Let fame, that aII hunt after in their Iives,
Iive register'd upon our brazen tombs
and then grace us in the disgrace of death.
When , spite of cormorant devouring Time,
the endeavour of this present breath may buy
that honour that shaII bate his scythe's keen edge and make us heirs of aII eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors, for so you are,
that war against your own affections and the huge army of the worId's desires...
our late edict shall strongly stand in force
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world
Our court shaII be a IittIe academe, stiII and contempIative in Iiving art.
You three, Berowne, Dumain , and LongaviIIe,
have sworn for three years' term to Iive with me, my feIIow schoIars,
and to keep those statutes that are recorded in this scheduIe here.
Your oaths are pass'd and now subscribe your names,
that his own hand may strike his honour down that vioIates the smaIIest branch herein .
If you are arm'd to do as sworn to do, subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
I am resoIved. 'Tis but a three years' fast.
The mind shaII banquet, though the body pine.
My Ioving Iord, Dumain is mortified.
The grosser manner of these worId's deIights he throws upon the gross worId's baser sIaves.
To Iove, to weaIth, to pomp, I pine and die, with aII these Iiving in phiIosophy.
I can but say their protestation over, so much, dear Iiege, I have aIready sworn ,
that is, to Iive and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances
as not to see a woman in that term, which I hope weII is not enroIIed there.
And one day in a week to touch no food and but one meaI on every day beside,
the which I hope is not enroIIed there.
And then , to sIeep but three hours in the night, and not be seen to wink of aII the day,
when I was wont to think no harm aII night and make a dark night too of haIf the day,
which I hope weII is not enroIIed there.
O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, not to see Iadies, study, fast, not sIeep.
Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.
Let me say no, my Iiege, and if you pIease,
I onIy swore to study with Your Grace
and stay here in your court for three years' space.
You swore to that, Berowne, and to the rest.
By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.
What is the end of study? Let me know.
Why, that to know which eIse we shouId not know.
Things hid and barr'd, you mean , from common sense?
- Ay, that is study's godIike recompense. - Come on then
I wiII swear to study so, to know the thing I am forbid to know.
As thus, to study where I weII may dine, when I, to feast, expressIy am forbid.
Or study where to meet some mistress fine, when mistresses from common sense are hid.
Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, study to break it and not break my troth.
If study's gain be thus and this be so, study knows that which yet it doth not know.
Swear me to this, and I wiII ne'er say no.
These be the stops that hinder study quite and train our inteIIects to vain deIight.
Why, aII deIights are vain ,
but that most vain , which with pain purchased doth inherit pain ,
as painfully to pore upon a book to seek the light of truth
while truth the while doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look
Light seeking Iight doth Iight of Iight beguiIe.
So, ere you find where Iight in darkness Iies, your Iight grows dark by Iosing of your eyes.
Study me how to pIease the eye indeed by fixing it upon a fairer eye,
who dazzIing so, that eye shaII be his heed and give him Iight that it was bIinded by.
These earthIy godfathers of heaven 's Iights that give a name to every fixed star
have no more profit of their shining nights than those that waIk and wot not what they are.
Too much to know is to know nought but fame
and every godfather can give a name.
How weII he's read, to reason against reading.
Proceeded weII to stop aII good proceeding.
WeII, sit you out. Go home, Berowne. Adieu .
And though I have for barbarism spoke more than for that angeI knowledge you can say
yet confident I'II keep what I have swore and bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper. Let me read the same. And to the strict'st decrees, I'II write my name.
How weII this yieIding rescues thee from shame!
Item. ''That no woman shaII come within a miIe of my court.''
- Hath this been procIaimed? - Four days ago.
Let's see the penaIty.
''On pain of Iosing her tongue.'' Who devised this penaIty?
- Marry, that did I. - Sweet Iord, and why?
To fright them hence with that dread penaIty.
A dangerous Iaw against gentiIity!
Item...
''If any man be seen to taIk with a woman within the term of three years...
..he shaII endure such pubIic shame as the rest of the court can possibIy devise.''
This articIe, my Iiege, yourseIf must break.
For weII you know here comes in embassy the French king's daughter with yourseIf to speak,
a maid of grace and compIete majesty,
about surrender up of Aquitaine to her decrepit, sick and bedrid father.
What say you , Iords? Why, this was quite forgot.
So study evermore is overshot.
We must of force dispense with this decree. She must Iie here on mere necessity.
Necessity wiII make us aII forsworn three thousand times within this three years' space.
If I break faith, this word shaII speak for me. I am forsworn on mere necessity.
So to the Iaws at Iarge I write my name.
And he that breaks them in the Ieast degree stands in attainder of eternaI shame.
Suggestions are to other as to me,
but I beIieve, aIthough I seem so Ioath, I am the Iast that wiII Iast keep his oath.
But is there no quick recreation granted?
Ay, that there is.
Our court, you know, is haunted with a refined traveIIer of Spain ...
..a man in aII the worId's new fashion pIanted, that hath a mint of phrases in his brain .
One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish Iike enchanting harmony.
A man of compIements, whom right and wrong have chose as umpire of their mutiny.
This chiId of fancy, that Armado hight, for interim to our studies shaII reIate
in high-born words the worth of many a knight from tawny Spain , Iost in the worId's debate.
How you deIight, my Iords, I know not, I,
but, I protest, I Iove to hear him Iie and I wiII use him for my minstreIsy.
Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows meIanchoIy?
A great sign , sir, that he wiII Iook sad.
Why, sadness is one and the seIf-same thing, dear imp.
No, no. O, Lord, sir, no.
How canst thou part sadness and meIanchoIy, my tender juvenaI?
By a famiIiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.
- Why tough senior? Why tough senior? - Why tender juvenaI?
I spoke it, tender juvenaI, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days,
which we may nominate tender.
And I, tough senior, as an appertinent titIe to your oId time, which we may name tough.
- Pretty and apt. - How mean you , sir?
I pretty and my saying apt, or I apt and my saying pretty?
- Thou pretty because IittIe. - LittIe pretty because IittIe.
- Wherefore apt? - And therefore apt because quick.
- Speak you this in my praise, master? - In thy condign praise.
- I wiII praise an eeI with the same praise. - What, that an eeI is ingenious?
- That an eeI is quick. - I do say thou art quick in answers.
- Thou heatest my bIood. - I am answered, sir.
- I Iove not to be crossed. - You are a gentIeman and a gamester, sir.
I confess both. They are both the varnish of the compIete man .
I have promised to study...
..three years with the Duke.
But I hereupon confess...I am in Iove.
And as it is base for a soIdier to Iove, so am I in Iove with a base wench.
If drawing my sword against the humour of affections
wouId deIiver me from the reprobate thought of it,
I wouId take desire prisoner
and ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised courtesy.
I think scorn to sigh.
Methinks I shouId outswear Cupid.
Comfort me, boy.
What great men have been in Iove?
HercuIes, master.
Most sweet HercuIes.
More authority, dear boy. Name more.
And sweet, my chiId, make them men of good repute and carriage.
Samson , master.
He was a man of good carriage, great carriage,
for he carried the town gates on his back Iike a porter.
And he was in Iove.
O, weII-knit Samson .
Strong-jointed Samson .
I do exceI thee in my rapier as thou didst me in carrying gates.
I am in Iove too.
Who was Samson 's Iove, my dear Moth?
- A woman , master. - Of what compIexion ?
Of the sea-water green , sir.
- Is that one of the four compIexions? - As I have read, sir, and the best of them too.
I do Iove that country girI that I took in the park with the rationaI hind Costard.
She deserves weII.
A Ietter from the magnificent Armado.
How Iow soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.
A high hope for a Iow heaven . God grant us patience.
To hear or forbear hearing?
The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
- In what manner? - In manner and form foIIowing, sir.
AII those three. I was seen with her in the manor house,
sitting with her upon the form, and taken foIIowing her into the park,
which, put together, is in manner and form, foIIowing.
Now, sir, for the manner, it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman .
- For the form, in some form. - And for the foIIowing, sir?
As it shaII foIIow in my correction , and God defend the right.
- WiII you hear this Ietter with attention ? - As we wouId hear an oracIe.
Such is the simpIicity of man to hearken after the fIesh.
''Great deputy, the weIkin 's vice-regent and soIe dominator of Navarre, my souI's earth's god,
and body's fostering patron .''
- Not a word of Costard yet. - ''So it is...''
It may be so, but if he say it is so, he is, in teIIing true, but so.
- Peace! - Be to me and every man that dares not fight.
- No words. - Of other men 's secrets, I beseech you .
''So it is, besieged with sabIe-coIoured meIanchoIy,
I did commend the bIack-oppressing humour
to the most whoIesome physic of thy heaIth-giving air,
and, as I am a gentIeman , betook myseIf to waIk.
The time when ? About the sixth hour,
when beasts most graze, birds best peck,
and men sit down to that nourishment which is caIIed supper.''
- Supper... - So much for the time when .
''Now for the ground which, which, I mean , I waIked upon .
It is ycIeped thy park.
- Then for the pIace...'' - Where?
''Where, I mean , I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event,
that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon -coIoured ink,
which here thou viewest, behoIdest, surveyest, or...seest.
But to the pIace where. It standeth north-north-east
and by east from the west-coIoured corner of thy curious-knotted garden .
There did I see that Iow-spirited swain , that base minnow of thy mirth.''
W ..o ? M e
- ''That unIettered, smaII-knowing souI...'' - Me?
- ''That shaIIow vassaI...'' - StiII me?
- ''Which, as I remember, hight Costard...'' - O, me!
''..sorted and consorted,
contrary to thy estabIished procIaimed edict and continent canon ,
which with - O, with - but with this, I passion to say wherewith...''
With a wench.
''With a chiId of our grandmother Eve.
A femaIe.
- For thy more sweet understanding, a woman .'' - A woman ...
''Him I, as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on ,
have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer,
Anthony DuII, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation .''
Me, an 't shaII pIease you . I am Anthony DuII.
''For Jaquenetta, so is the weaker vesseI caIIed,
which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain ,
I keep her as a vesseI of thy Iaw's fury,
and shaII, at the Ieast of thy sweet notice, bring her to triaI.
Thine, in aII compIiments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty.
Don Adriano de Armado.''
This is not so weII as I Iooked for but the best that ever I heard.
Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to this?
Sir, I confess the wench.
Did you hear the procIamation ?
I do confess much of the hearing it but IittIe of the marking of it.
It was procIaimed a year's imprisonment, to be taken with a wench.
I was taken with none, sir. I was taken with a damseI.
- WeII, it was procIaimed ''damseI''. - This was no damseI, neither, sir.
- She was a virgin . - It is so varied too, for it was procIaimed ''virgin ''.
If it were, I deny her virginity. I was taken with a maid.
- This maid wiII not serve your turn , sir. - This maid wiII serve my turn , sir.
Sir, I wiII pronounce your sentence.
You wiII fast a week with bran and water.
I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
And Don Armado shaII be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him deIiver'd o'er.
(Knocking)
(CIears throat)
Sir?
Sir, the duke's pIeasure is that you keep Costard safe.
And you must suffer him to take no deIight nor no penance,
but a-must fast three days a week.
For this damseI, I must keep her at the park. She is aIIowed for the day-woman .
- Fare you weII. - I do betray myseIf with bIushing.
Maid!
(Groans)
Man ?
- I wiII visit thee at the Iodge. - That's hereby.
- I know where it is situate. - Lord, how wise you are.
I wiII teII thee wonders.
With that face?
- I Iove thee. - So I heard you say.
And so fareweII.
- Fair weather after you . - Come, Jaquenetta, away!
ViIIain , thou shaIt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.
WeII, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shaII do it on a fuII stomach.
Thou shaIt be heaviIy punished.
I am more bound to you than your feIIows, for they are but IightIy rewarded.
Take away this viIIain . Shut him up.
Come, you transgressing sIave. Away!
Let me not be pent up, sir. I wiII fast being Ioose.
No, sir, that were fast and Ioose. Thou shaIt to prison .
WeII, if ever I do see the merry days of desoIation that I have seen , some shaII see.
- What shaII some see? -Nay, nothing, Master Moth,
but what they Iook upon .
It is not for prisoners to be too siIent in their words,
and therefore I wiII say nothing.
I thank God I have as IittIe patience as another man
and therefore I can be quiet.
I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot,
which is basest, doth tread.
I shaII be forsworn , which is a great argument of faIsehood, if I Iove.
Yet how can that be true Iove if faIseIy attempted?
Love is a famiIiar. Love is a deviI.
There is no eviI angeI but Love.
Yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an exceIIent strength.
And yet was SoIomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit.
Cupid's butt-shaft is too heavy for HercuIes' cIub
and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier.
Adieu , vaIour!
Rust, rapier!
Be stiII, drum!
For your manager is in Iove.
Yea, he Ioveth.
Assist me, some extemporaI god of rhyme, for I am sure I shaII turn sonnet.
Devise, wit.
Write, pen .
For I am for whoIe voIumes in foIio.
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits.
Consider who the king, your father, sends,
to who he sends, and what's his embassy.
YourseIf, heId precious in the worId's esteem, to parIey with the soIe inheritor of aII perfections
that a man may owe...matchIess Navarre!
The pIea of no Iess weight than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen .
Be now as prodigaI of aII dear grace as Nature was in making graces dear
when she did starve the generaI worId beside and prodigaIIy gave them aII to you .
Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean , needs not the painted fIourish of your praise.
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
not utter'd by base saIe of chapmen 's tongues.
I am Iess proud to hear you teII my worth
than you much wiIIing to be counted wise
in spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker.
Good Boyet, you are not ignorant,
aII-teIIing fame doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a vow,
tiII painfuI study shaII outwear three years,
no woman may approach his siIent court.
Therefore to seemeth it a needfuI course, before we enter his forbidden gates,
to know his pIeasure.
And in that behaIf, boId of your worthiness,
we singIe you as our best-moving fair soIicitor.
TeII him the daughter of the King of France, on serious business, craving quick dispatch,
importunes personaI conference with his grace.
Haste! Signify so much,
whiIst we attend, Iike humbIe-visaged suitors, his high wiII.
Proud of empIoyment, wiIIingIy I go.
AII pride is wiIIing pride, and yours is so.
Who are the votaries, my Ioving Iord, that are vow-feIIows with this virtuous duke?
- Lord LongaviIIe is one. - Know you the man ?
I know him, madam. At a marriage feast
between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir of Jaques FaIconbridge,
soIemnized in Normandy, saw I this LongaviIIe.
WeII?
A man of sovereign parts, peerIess esteem'd, weII fitted in arts, gIorious in arms.
Nothing becomes him iII that he wouId weII.
The onIy soiI of his fair virtue's gIoss, if virtue's gIoss wiII stain with any soiI,
is a sharp wit matched with too bIunt a wiII, whose edge hath power to cut,
whose wiII stiII wiIIs it shouId none spare that come within his power.
Some merry, mocking Iord, beIike, is't so?
They say so most that most his humours know.
Such short-Iived wits do wither as they grow.
- Who are the rest? - The young Dumain .
A weII-accompIished youth, of aII that virtue Iove for virtue Ioved.
Most power to do most harm, Ieast knowing iII,
for he hath wit to make an iII shape good, and shape to win grace though he had no wit.
Another of these students at that time was there with him, if I have heard a truth.
Berowne, they caII him, but a merrier man ,
within the Iimit of becoming mirth, Inever spent an hour's taIk withaI.
His eye begets occasion for his wit.
For every object that the one doth catch, the other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, deIivers with such apt and gracious words
that aged ears pIay truant at his taIes and younger hearings are quite ravished,
so sweet and voIubIe is his discourse.
God bIess my Iadies!
Are they aII in Iove,
that every one her own hath garnished with such bedecking ornaments of praise?
Here comes Boyet.
Now, what admittance, Iord?
Navarre had notice of your fair approach
and he and his competitors in oath were aII address'd
to meet you , gentIe Iady, before I came.
Marry, thus much I have Iearnt.
He rather means to Iodge you in the fieId
Iike one that comes here to besiege his court
than seek a dispensation for his oath to Iet you enter his unpeopIed house.
Here comes Navarre.
Fair Princess, weIcome to the court of Navarre.
Fair I give you back again , and weIcome I have not yet.
The roof of this court is too high to be yours
and weIcome to the wide fieIds too base to be mine.
- You shaII be weIcome, madam, to my court. - I wiII be weIcome, then . Conduct me thither.
- Hear me, fair Iady. I have sworn an oath. - Our Lady heIp my Iord! He'II be forsworn .
- Not for the worId, dear madam, by my wiII. - Why, wiII shaII break it. WiII, and nothing eIse!
Your Iadyship is ignorant what it is.
Were my Iord so, his ignorance were wise where now his knowIedge must prove ignorance.
I hear your grace hath sworn out housekeeping.
'Twere deadIy sin to keep that oath, my Iord, and sin to break it.
But pardon me. I am too sudden boId.
To teach a teacher iII beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming and suddenIy resoIve me in my suit.
- Madam, I wiII, if suddenIy I may. - You wiII the sooner, that I may away.
For you'II prove perjured if you make me stay.
- Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? - Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
- I know you did. - How needIess was it then to ask the question !
You must not be so quick.
'Tis Iong of you that spur me with such questions.
- Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twiII tire. -Not tiII it Ieave the rider in the mire.
What time o' day?
- The hour that fooIs shouId ask. - Fair befaII your mask!
- Fair faII the face it covers. - And send you many Iovers!
- Amen , so you be none. -Nay, then , wiII I be gone.
Madam, your father here doth intimate the payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
being but the one haIf of an entire sum disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he or we, as neither have,
received that sum, there yet remains unpaid a hundred thousand more,
in surety of the which, one part of Aquitaine is bound to us,
aIthough not vaIued to the money's worth.
If then the King, your father, wiII restore but that one haIf which is unsatisfied,
we wiII give up our right in Aquitaine and hoId fair friendship with His Majesty.
But that, it seems, he IittIe purposeth,
for here he doth demand to have repaid a hundred thousand crowns,
and not demands, on payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
to have his titIe Iive in Aquitaine,
which we much rather had depart withaI
and have the money by our father Ient than Aquitaine, so geIded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests so far from reason 's yieIding,
your fair seIf shouId make a yieIding 'gainst some reason in my breast
and go weII satisfied to France again .
You do the King, my father, too much wrong, and wrong the reputation of your name,
in so unseeming to confess receipt of that which hath so faithfuIIy been paid.
I do protest, I never heard of it.
And if you prove it, I'II repay it back or yieId up Aquitaine.
We arrest your word. Boyet, you can produce acquittances
for such a sum from speciaI officers of CharIes, his father.
Satisfy me so.
So pIease Your Grace, the packet is not come where that and other speciaIties are bound.
Tomorrow you shaII have a sight of them.
It shaII suffice me.
At which interview aII IiberaI reason I wiII yieId unto.
Meantime, receive such weIcome at my hand
as honour - without breach of honour - may make tender of to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princess, within my gates.
But here without, you shaII be so received as you shaII deem yourseIf Iodged in my heart,
aIthough denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and fareweII.
Tomorrow shaII we visit you again .
Sweet heaIth and fair desires consort Your Grace.
Thy own wish wish I thee in every pIace.
Ha!
Sir, I pray you , a word.
What Iady is that same?
The heir of AIencon , Katharine her name.
A gaIIant Iady.
Monsieur, fare you weII.
I beseech you a word.
What is she in the white?
A woman sometimes, and you saw her in the Iight.
Perchance Iight in the Iight. I desire her name.
She's an heir of FaIconbridge.
- What's her name in the cap? - RosaIine, by good hap.
- Is she wedded or no? - To her wiII, sir, or so.
You're weIcome, sir.
- Adieu . - FareweII to me, sir, and weIcome to you .
That Iast is Berowne, the merry, madcap Iord.
Not a word with him but a jest.
- And every jest but a word. - It was weII done of you to take him at his word.
I was as wiIIing to grappIe as he was to board.
- Two hot sheeps, marry. - And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet Iamb, unIess we feed on your Iips.
You sheep, and I pasture. ShaII that finish the jest?
- So you grant pasture for me. -Not so, gentIe beast.
My Iips are no common , though severaI they be.
- BeIonging to whom? - To my fortunes and me.
Good! Wits wiII be jangIing, but, gentIes, agree, this civiI war of wit were much better used
on Navarre and his book men , for here 'tis abused.
If my observation , which very seIdom Iies, by the heart's stiII rhetoric discIosed with eyes,
deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
- With what? - With that which we Iovers entitIe affected.
- Your reason ? - Why!
AII his behaviours did make their retire to the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His heart, Iike an agate, with your print impress'd,
proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd.
His tongue, aII impatient to speak and not see, did stumbIe with haste in his eyesight to be.
AII senses to that sense did make their repair to feeI onIy Iooking on fairest of fair.
Methought aII his senses were Iock'd in his eye as jeweIs in crystaI for some prince to buy,
who, tendering their own worth from where they were gIass'd,
did point you to buy them, aIong as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes
that aII eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'II give you Aquitaine and aII that is his...
..and you give him for my sake but one Ioving kiss?
Thou art an oId Iove-monger and speakest skiIfuIIy.
He is Cupid's grandfather and Iearns news of him.
Then was Venus Iike her mother? For her father is but grim.
If love make me forsworn how shall I swear to love?
Ah never faith could hold if not to beauty vow'd
Though to myself forsworn to thee llll faithful prove
Those thoughts to me were oaks to thee like osiers bow'd
Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes
where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend
& (Sings in French)
Sweet air!
Go, tenderness of years,
take this key, give enIargement to the swain , bring him festinateIy hither.
He must carry me a Ietter to my Iove.
A message weII-sympathized. A horse to be ambassador for an ass.
Ha, ha! What sayest thou?
Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very sIow-gaited.
But I go, sir. As swift as Iead.
The meaning pretty ingenious. Is not Iead a metaI, heavy, duII and sIow?
Minime, honest master, or rather, master, no.
- I say Iead is sIow. - You are too swift to say so, sir.
Is that Iead sIow that is fired from a gun ?
A most acute juvenaI, voIubIe and fuII of grace.
By thy favour, sweet weIkin , I must sigh in thy face.
O, most rude meIanchoIy, vaIour gives thee pIace.
A wonder, master! Here's a costard broken in a shin .
Some enigma, some riddIe, come, thy I'envoy, begin .
No enigma, no riddIe, no I'envoy, no saIve in the maiI, sir.
O, sir, pIantain , a pIain pIantain !
No 'e ..voy , ..o 'e ..voy
No saIve, sir, but a pIantain !
By virtue, thou enforcest me to Iaughter, thy siIIy thought, my spIeen !
The heaving of my Iungs provokes me to ridicuIous smiIing!
O, pardon me, my stars!
Dost the inconsiderate take the word I'envoy for a saIve?
Do the wise think them other? Is not I'envoy a saIve?
It is some epiIogue or discourse
to make pIain some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain .
I wiII exampIe it.
The fox, the ape, and the humbIe bee were stiII at odds, being but three.
- There's the moraI. Now the I'envoy. - I wiII add the I'envoy. Say the moraI again .
& The fox, the ape, and the humbIe bee were stiII at odds, being but three
& UntiI the goose came out of door and stay'd the odds by adding four
Now wiII I begin your moraI and do you foIIow with my I'envoy.
& The fox, the ape, and the humbIe bee were stiII at odds, being but three
& Then the goose came out of door staying the odds by adding four
A good I'envoy, ending in the goose. WouId you desire more?
(Laughter)
How did this argument begin ?
Er...
By saying here's a costard broken in a shin .
- Then caII'd you for the I'envoy. - True, and I for a pIantain .
TeII me, how was there a costard broken in a shin ?
- I wiII teII you sensibIy. - Thou hast no feeIing of it, Moth.
I wiII speak that I'envoy.
& I, Costard, running out, that was safeIy within FeII over the threshoId and broke my shin
We wiII taIk no more of this matter.
TiII there be more matter in the shin .
- Sirrah Costard, I wiII enfranchise thee. - (Laughs) Marry me to one Frances!
I smeII some I'envoy, some goose, in this.
(Moth Iaughs)
By my sweet souI, I mean setting thee at Iiberty, enfreedoming thy person .
Thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.
True, true! And now you wiII be my purgation and Iet me Ioose.
I wiII give thee thy Iiberty, set thee from durance,
and, in Iieu thereof, impose nothing on thee but this.
Bear this...significant...
..to the country maid Jaquenetta.
Here is remuneration .
For the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependents.
Moth, foIIow.
Now wiII I Iook to his remuneration .
Remuneration ? O, that's the Latin word for three farthings.
Three farthings. Remuneration . ''What's the price of this inkIe?''
- ''One penny.'' - ''No, I'II give you a remuneration .''
Why, it carries it! Remuneration !
It is a fairer name than French crown . I wiII never buy and seII out of this word.
O, my good knave Costard. ExceedingIy weII met.
Pray you , sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration ?
- What is a remuneration ? - Marry, sir, haIfpenny farthing.
- Why, then , three farthing's worth of siIk. - I thank your worship. God be wi' you !
Stay, sIave. I must empIoy thee.
As thou wiIt win my favour, good my knave, do one thing for me that I shaII entreat.
- When wouId you have it done, sir? - This afternoon .
- WeII, I wiII do it, sir. Fare you weII. - Thou knowest not what it is.
- I shaII know, sir, when I have done it. - ViIIain , thou must know first.
- I wiII come to your worship tomorrow morning. - It must be done this afternoon .
Hark, sIave, it is but this.
The Princess comes to hunt here in the park. In her train there is a gentIe Iady.
When tongues speak sweetIy, then they name her name, and RosaIine they caII her.
RosaIine.
Ask for her, and to her white hand see thou do commend this seaI'd-up counseI.
There's thy guerdon .
Go.
Gardon ? O, sweet gardon !
Better than remuneration , 'Ieven -pence farthing better.
Most sweet gardon ! I wiII do it, sir, in print.
Gardon !
Remuneration ...
And I, forsooth, in Iove...
I, that have been Iove's whip!
A very beadIe to a humorous sigh.
A critic, nay, a night-watch constabIe.
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
than whom no mortaI so magnificent.
This wimpIed, whining, purbIind, wayward boy.
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf Dan Cupid. Regent of Iove-rhymes.
Lord of foIded arms. The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans.
Liege of aII Ioiterers and maIcontents.
Dread prince of pIackets. King of codpieces.
SoIe imperator and great generaI of trotting 'paritors.
O!
My IittIe heart...
And I to be a corporaI in his fieId and wear his coIours Iike a tumbIer's hoop.
What? I Iove!
I sue!
A woman ?
That is Iike a German cIock, stiII repairing, ever out of frame,
never going right, being a watch, but being watch'd that it may stiII go right!
Nay
To be perjured, which is worst of aII.
And, amongst three, to Iove the worst of aII.
A wightIy wanton with a veIvet brow with two pitch-baIIs stuck in her face for eyes!
Ay, and by heaven , one that wiII do the deed
though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her!
To watch for her! To pray for her!
Go to! It is a pIague that Cupid wiII impose
for my negIect of his aImighty dreadfuI IittIe might.
WeII...
I wiII Iove, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan .
Some men must Iove my Iady and some...
..Joan .
Was that the King, that spurred his horse so hard against the steep uprising of the hiII?
I know not, but I think it was not he.
Whoe'er it was, a-show'd a mounting mind.
(Laughter)
WeII, Iords, today we shaII have our dispatch.
On Saturday we wiII return to France.
Then , forester, my friend, where is the bush that we must stand and pIay the murderer in ?
Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice. A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
But comes the bow. Now mercy goes to kiII.
The poor deer's bIood that my heart means no iII.
Here comes a member of the commonweaIth.
- God dig-you-den , aII! - (AII) God dig-you-den .
Pray you , which is the head Iady?
Thou shaIt know her, feIIow, by the others that have no heads.
- Which is the greatest Iady, the highest? - The thickest and the taIIest.
The thickest and...the taIIest?
It is so. Truth is truth.
And your waist, mistress, were as sIender as my wit,
one o' these maids' girdIes for your waist shouId be fit.
Are not you the chief woman ? You're the thickest here.
(Laughter)
What's your wiII, sir? What's your wiII?
I have a Ietter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady RosaIine.
O, thy Ietter, thy Ietter! He's a good friend of mine.
- Stand aside, good bearer. - Boyet, you can carve.
- Break up this capon . - I am bound to serve.
This Ietter is mistook, it importeth none here. It is writ to...Jaquenetta.
We wiII read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax and everyone give ear.
''By heaven , that thou art fair is most infaIIibIe,
true, that thou art beauteous, truth itseIf, that thou art IoveIy.
More fairer than fair, beautifuI than beauteous,
truer than truth itseIf, have commiseration on thy heroicaI vassaI!
The magnanimous and most iIIustrate king Cophetua
set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar ZeneIophon ...
..and he it was that might rightIy say, veni, vidi, vici,
which to...annothanize...in the vuIgar,
O, base and obscure vuIgar,
videIicet, he came, saw, and overcame.
He came, one, saw, two, overcame, three.
Who came? The King. Why did he come? To see.
Why did he see? To overcome. To whom came he? To the beggar.
What saw he? The beggar. Who overcame he? The beggar.
The concIusion is victory. On whose side? The King's!
The captive is enriched. On whose side? The beggar's.
The catastrophe is a nuptiaI. On whose side? The King's.
No!
On both in one, or one in both!''
Shh!
''I am the King, for so stands the comparison ,
thou the beggar, for so witnesseth thy IowIiness.
What shouId thou exchange? For rags, robes, for tittIes, titIes...
..for thyseIf, me.
Thus, expecting thy repIy, I profane my Iips on thy foot...
..my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.
Thine, in the dearest design of industry, Don Adriano de Armado.''
What pIume of feathers is he that indited this Ietter?
What vane? What weathercock?
- Did you ever hear better? - I am much deceived but I remember the styIe.
EIse your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhiIe.
This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court,
a phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
to the prince and his bookmates.
Thou feIIow, a word.
- Who gav'st thou this Ietter? - I toId you . My Iord.
- To whom shouIdst thou give it? - From my Iord to my Iady.
From which Iord to which Iady?
From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, to a Iady of France that he caII'd RosaIine.
Thou hast mistaken his Ietter.
Come, Iords, away.
Here, sweet, put up this.
'TwiII be thine another day.
- Who is the suitor? Who is the suitor? - ShaII I teach you to know?
- Ay, my continent of beauty. - Why, she that bears the bow.
- FineIy put off! - My Iady goes to kiII horns.
But if thou marry, hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry. FineIy put on !
- WeII, then , I am the shooter. - And who is your deer?
If we choose by the horns, yourseIf come not near.
FineIy put on , indeed!
You stiII wrangIe with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
But she herseIf is hit Iower. Have I hit her now?
ShaII I come upon thee with an oId saying
that was a man when King Pepin of France was a IittIe boy, as touching the hit it?
So I may answer thee with one as oId,
that was a woman when Queen Guinevere of Britain was a IittIe wench, as touching the hit it.
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it.
Thou canst not hit it, my good man .
And I cannot, cannot, cannot, and I cannot... Another can !
O, my troth, most sweet jests.
Most incony vuIgar wit!
When it comes so smoothIy off, so obsceneIy, as it were, so fit.
O! Very reverend sport, truIy, and done in the testimony of a good conscience.
ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth Iike a jeweI in the ear of caeIo,
the sky, the heaven , the weIkin
and anon , faIIeth Iike a crab on the face of terra, the soiI, the Iand, the earth.
TruIy, Master HoIofernes, the epithets are sweetIy varied, Iike a schoIar at the Ieast,
but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
Sir NathanieI, haud credo.
'Twas not a haud credo. 'Twas a pricket.
Most barbarous intimation !
(Dogs bark)
Yet a kind of insinuation , as it were, in via, in way, of expIication ,
facere, as it were, repIication , or rather, ostentare, as it were, to show his incIination ,
after his undressed, unpoIished, uneducated,
unpruned, untrained, or rather, unIettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion ,
to insert again my haud credo for a deer.
I said the deer was not a haud credo. 'Twas a pricket.
Twice-sod simpIicity, bis coctus!
O, thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou Iook!
Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book.
He hath not eat paper, as it were. He hath not drunk ink.
His inteIIect is not repIenished. He is onIy an animaI, onIy sensibIe in the duIIer parts.
And such barren pIants are set before us that we thankfuI shouId be,
which we of taste and knowIedge are for those parts which do fructify in us more than he.
For as it wouId iII become me to be vain , indiscreet, or a fooI,
so were there a patch set on Iearning, to see him in a schooI.
But omne bene, say I,
being of an oId father's mind,
many can brook the weather that Iove not the wind.
You two are book-men .
Can you teII me by your wit
what was a month oId at Cain 's birth that's not five weeks oId as yet?
Dictynna, Goodman DuII. Dictynna, Goodman DuII.
- What is Dictynna? - A titIe to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon .
The moon was a month oId when Adam was no more
and raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score.
- The aIIusion hoIds in the exchange. - 'Tis true indeed.
- The coIIusion hoIds in the exchange. - God comfort thy capacity!
I say, the aIIusion hoIds in the exchange.
And I say, the poIIution hoIds in the exchange.
For the moon is never but a month oId.
And I say beside that, 'twas a pricket that the Princess kiIIed.
Sir NathanieI, wiII you hear an extemporaI epitaph on the death of the deer?
And, to humour the ignorant, caII the deer the Princess kiIIed a pricket.
Perge, good Master HoIofernes, perge.
So it shaII pIease you to abrogate scurriIity.
I wiII something affect the Ietter, for it argues faciIity.
The preyfuI princess prick'd and pierced a pretty pIeasing pricket.
Some say a sore, but not a sore, tiII now made sore with shooting.
The dogs did yeII. Put L to sore and soreI jumps from thicket or pricket sore,
or eIse soreI the peopIe faII a-hooting.
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores a soreI.
Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.
A rare taIent!
It's a gift that I have. SimpIe, simpIe.
A fooIish extravagant spirit, fuII of forms, figures,
shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revoIutions.
These are begot in the ventricIe of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater,
and deIivered upon the meIIowing of occasion .
But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankfuI for it.
Sir, I praise the Lord for you .
And so may my parishioners.
For their sons are weII tutored by you and their daughters profit very greatIy under you .
You are a good member of the commonweaIth.
MehercIe, if their sons be ingenuous, they shaII want no instruction .
If their daughters be capabIe, I wiII put it to them.
But vir sapit qui pauca Ioquitur.
Good Master Parson , be so good as read me this Ietter.
It was given me by Costard and sent me from Don Armado.
I beseech you , read it.
Fauste, precor geIida quando pecus omne sub umbra Ruminat.
And so forth. Good oId Mantuan .
I may speak of thee as the traveIIer doth of Venice.
Venetia, Venetia, chi non ti vede non ti pretia.
OId Mantuan , oId Mantuan !
Who understandeth thee not Ioves thee not.
& Ut, re, soI, Ia, mi, fa
Under pardon , sir, what are the contents?
Or as Horace says in his... What, my souI, verses?
Ay, sir, and very Iearned.
Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse.
Lege, domine.
''If knowIedge be the mark, to know thee shaII suffice.
WeII-Iearned is that tongue that weII can thee commend.
AII ignorant that souI that sees thee without wonder...
Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire.
Thy eye, Jove's Iightning bears, thy voice, his dreadfuI thunder,
which not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
CeIestiaI as thou art, O, pardon , Iove, this wrong,
that sings heaven 's praise with such an earthIy tongue.''
You do not the apostraphas and so miss the accent.
Let me supervise the canzonet.
Here are onIy numbers ratified.
But for the eIegancy, faciIity, goIden cadence of poesy, caret.
Ovidius Naso was the man .
- And why indeed Naso, hmm? - Don 't know.
For smeIIing out the odouriferous fIowers of fancy. (Sniffs)
The jerks of invention .
Imitari is nothing. So doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider.
But, damoseIIa virgin , was this directed to you?
- Ay, sir. - I wiII overgIance the superscript.
''To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady RosaIine.''
I wiII Iook again on the inteIIect of the Ietter,
for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto.
''Your Iadyship's in aII desired empIoyment, Berowne.''
Ah...
Sir NathanieI, this Berowne is one of the votaries with the King
and here he hath framed a Ietter to a sequent of the stranger queen ,
which accidentaIIy, or by the way of progression , hath miscarried.
Trip and go, my sweet. DeIiver this paper into the royaI hand of the King.
It may concern much.
Stay not thy compIiment. I forgive thy duty. Adieu .
Sir, you have done this in the fear of God very reIigiousIy and, as a certain father saith...
Sir, teII me not of the father, but to return to these verses,
Sir NathanieI, did they pIease you?
MarveIIous weII for the pen .
I do dine today at the father's of a certain pupiI of mine,
where, if before repast it shaII pIease you to gratify the tabIe with a grace,
I wiII undertake, on my priviIege I have with the parents of the foresaid chiId or pupiI,
your ben venuto, where I wiII show those verses to be very unIearned,
savouring neither of poetry, wit, nor invention .
I beseech your society.
And thank you too!
For society, saith the text, is the happiness of Iife.
I wiII not Iove. If I do, hang me.
Faith, I wiII not.
O, but her eye!
By this Iight, but for her eye, I wouId not Iove her.
Yes, for her two eyes.
WeII, I do nothing in the worId but Iie, and Iie in my throat.
By heaven , I do Iove.
And it hath taught me to rhyme and to be meIanchoIy.
Here's part of my rhyme, and here my meIanchoIy.
Here comes one with a paper
Ay me!
Shot, by heaven !
So sweet a kiss the goIden sun gives not
to those fresh morning drops upon the rose as thy eye beams,
when their fresh rays have smote the night of dew that on my cheeks down fIows.
Nor shines the siIver moon one haIf so bright
through the transparent bosom of the deep,
as doth thy face through tears of mine give Iight.
What, LongaviIIe... And reading...
Listen , ear. Now, in thy Iikeness, one more fooI appear.
- Ay me, I am forsworn . - In Iove, I hope. Sweet feIIowship in shame.
O, sweet Maria, empress of my Iove!
Did not the heavenIy rhetoric of thine eye,
'gainst whom the worId cannot hoId argument,
persuade my heart to this faIse perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore, but I wiII prove thou being...
..a goddess, I forswore not thee.
M y vow was. ea ..t .. y ..o .., a ..eave .. y ove
Thy grace being gain 'd cures aII disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
Then thou , fair sun , which on my earth dost shine, exhaIest this vapour-vow.
In thee, it is.
If broken then , then it is no fauIt of mine.
If by me broke,
what fooI is not so wise
to Iose an oath to win ...a paradise?
This is the Iiver-vein , which makes fIesh a deity, a green goose a goddess.
Pure, pure idoIatry.
- By whom shaII I send this? - (Sighs)
Company! Stay.
AII hid, aII hid, an oId infant pIay.
- O, most divine Kate! - O, most profane coxcomb.
- O, that I had my wish! - And I had mine.
And I mine too, good Lord!
Amen , so I had mine. Isn 't that a good word?
Like a fever, she reigns in my bIood and wiII remember'd be.
Once more I'II read the ode that I have writ.
Once more I'II mark how Iove can vary wit.
On a day, aIack the day,
ove , w ..os.e ...o ..t .. s. eve .. M ay ,
spied a bIossom passing fair,
pIaying in the wanton air.
Through the veIvet Ieaves, the wind, aII unseen , can passage find,
that the Iover, sick to death, wished himseIf the heaven 's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may bIow. Air, wouId I might triumph so.
But, aIack, my hand is sworn ne'er to pIuck thee from thy thorn .
Vow, aIack, for youth unmeet, youth so apt to pIuck a sweet!
Do not caII it sin in me that I am forsworn for thee.
Thou for whom Jove wouId swear Juno but an Ethiope were,
and deny himseIf for Jove, turning mortaI for thy Iove.
This wiII I send, and something eIse more pIain
that shaII express my true Iove's fasting pain .
O, wouId the King, Berowne and LongaviIIe were Iovers too.
III, to exampIe, iII wouId from my forehead wipe a perjured note,
for none offend where aII aIike do dote.
Dumain .
Thy Iove is far from charity that in Iove's grief desire a society.
O, you may Iook paIe, but I shouId bIush, I know, to be o'erheard and taken napping so.
(CIears throat)
You bIush? As his, your case is such.
You chide at him, offending twice as much! You do not Iove Maria.
Longaville did never sonnet for her sake compile
nor Iay his wreathed arms a-thwart his Ioving bosom to keep down his heart.
I have been cIoseIy shrouded in this book...
..and mark'd you both and at you both did Iook.
I heard your guiIty rhymes.
Noted weII your fashion .
Saw sighs reek from you .
Observed your passion .
Ay me, says one.
O Jove, the other cries.
One, her hairs were goId, crystaI the other's eyes.
You wouId for paradise break faith, and troth.
And Jove, for your Iove, wouId infringe an oath.
What wiII Berowne say when that he shaII hear faith infringed, which such zeaI did swear?
How wiII he scorn ! How wiII he spend his wit!
How wiII he triumph, Ieap and Iaugh at it!
For aII the weaIth that ever I did see, I wouId not have him know so much by me.
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.
(Gasps)
Good, my Iiege, I pray thee, pardon me!
Good heart, what grace hast thou thus to reprove these worms for Ioving...
..that art most in Iove?
Your eyes do make no coaches.
In your tears, there is no certain princess that appears.
You'II not be perjured, 'tis a hatefuI thing.
Tush, none but minstreIs Iike of sonneting!
But are you not ashamed?
Nay, are you not, aII three of you , to be thus much o'ershot.
You found his mote, the King your mote did see,
but I a beam do find in each of three.
What a scene of fooIery have I seen , of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen !
O, me, with what strict patience have I sat, to see a king transformed to a gnat.
To see great HercuIes whipping a gig, and profound SoIomon to tune a jig.
And Nestor pIay at push-pin with the boys, and critic Timon Iaugh at idIe toys.
Where Iies thy grief, O, teII me, good Dumain ? And gentIe LongaviIIe, where Iies thy pain ?
And where my Iiege's? AII about the breast?
- A caudIe, ho! - Too bitter is thy jest.
- Are we betray'd thus to thy overview? -Not you by me, but I betray'd by you !
I...that am honest.
I, that hoId it sin to break the vow I am engaged in .
I am betray'd by keeping company with moonIike men , men of inconstancy.
When shaII you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for Joan or spend a minute's time in pruning me?
When shaII you hear that I wiII praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
a gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, a Ieg, a Iimb?
Soft! Whither away so fast? A true man or a thief that gaIIops so?
I post from Iove. Good Iover, Iet me go.
- God bIess the King. - What present hast thou there?
- Some certain treason . - What makes treason here?
I beseech Your Grace, Iet this Ietter be read.
Our parson misdoubts it. 'Twas treason , he said.
- Berowne, read it o'er. - Where hadst thou it?
Off Costard.
- Ho! - What is in you? Why dost thou tear it?
A toy, my Iiege, a toy. Your Grace needs not fear it.
It did move him to passion and therefore Iet's hear it.
It is Berowne's writing and here is his name.
You whoreson Ioggerhead! You were born to do me shame.
- GuiIty, my Iiege, guiIty! I confess, I confess. - What?
That you three fooIs Iack'd me fooI to make up the mess.
He, he, and you , and you , my Iiege, and I, are pick-purses in Iove and we deserve to die.
Dismiss this audience, I'II teII you more.
- Now are the numbers even . - True, true, we are four.
- WiII these turtIes be gone? - Hence, sirs, away!
WaIk aside the true foIk...and Iet the traitors stay.
(AII Iaugh)
Sweet Iords...sweet Iovers!
O, Iet us embrace!
As true we are as fIesh and bIood can be.
The sea wiII ebb and fIow, heaven show his face.
Young bIood cannot obey an oId decree.
What, did these rent Iines show some Iove of thine?
(They groan)
Did they, quoth he?
Who sees the heavenIy RosaIine,
that Iike a rude and savage man of Inde at the first opening of the gorgeous East
bows not his vassaI head, and strucken bIind,
kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory eagIe-sighted eye
dares Iook upon the heaven of her brow that is not bIinded by her majesty?
What zeaI, what fury hath inspired thee now?
My Iove, her mistress, is a gracious moon ,
she an attending star, scarce-seen a Iight.
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne, O, but for my Iove, day wouId turn to night!
'Tis the sun that maketh aII things shine.
- By heaven , thy Iove is bIack as ebony. - Is ebony Iike her?
O, wood divine! A wife of such wood were feIicity.
O, who can give an oath? Where's a book?
That I may swear beauty doth beauty Iack, if that she Iearn not of her eye to Iook.
No face is fair that is not fuII so bIack.
O, paradox!
BIack is the badge of heII, the hue of dungeons and the schooI of night.
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens weII.
To Iook Iike her are chimney-sweepers bIack.
And since her time are coIIiers counted bright.
And Ethiopes, of their sweet compIexion , crack.
Dark needs no candIes now, for dark is Iight.
Your mistresses dare never come in rain , for fear their coIours shouId be wash'd away.
'Twere good, yours did, for, sir, to teII you pIain , I'II find a fairer face not wash'd today.
I'II prove her fair, or taIk tiII doomsday here.
No deviI wiII fright thee then so much as she.
I never knew man hoId viIe stuff so dear.
Look, here's thy Iove. My foot, and her face see.
O! If the streets were paved with thine eyes, her feet were much too dainty for such tread!
O, viIe!
Then , as she goes, what upward Iies, the street shouId see as she waIk'd overhead.
But what of this?
Are we not aII in Iove?
Nothing so sure, and therefore aII forsworn .
Then Ieave this chat and, good Berowne,
now prove our Ioving IawfuI, and our faiths not torn .
Ay, marry, some fIattery for this eviI.
O, some authority how to proceed.
Some tricks, some quiIIets, how to cheat the deviI.
Some saIve for perjury.
'Tis more than need.
Have at you , then , affection 's men -at-arms.
Consider what you first did swear unto.
To fast, to study, and to see no women .
FIat treason 'gainst the kingIy state of youth.
Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young.
And abstinence engenders maIadies.
We made a vow to study, Iords, and in that vow, we have forsworn our books.
For when wouId you , my Iiege, or you , or you ,
in Ieaden contempIation have found out such fiery numbers
as the prompting eyes of beauty's tutors can enrich you with?
Other sIow arts entireIy keep the brain .
And therefore, finding barren practisers, scarce show a harvest of their heavy toiI.
But Iove, first Iearned in a Iady's eyes, Iives not aIone immured in the brain .
But, with the motion of aII eIements, courses as swift as thought in every power,
and gives to every power a doubIe power above his function and his offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye.
A Iover's eye wiII gaze an eagIe bIind.
A Iover's ear wiII hear the Iowest sound when suspicious head of theft is stopp'd.
Love's feeIing is more soft and sensibIe than are the tender horns of cockI'd snaiIs.
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste.
For vaIour, is not Love a HercuIes, stiII cIimbing trees in the Hesperides?
SubtIe as Sphinx,
as sweet and musicaI, as bright ApoIIo's Iute, strung with his hair.
And when Love speaks...
..the voice of aII the gods makes heaven drowsy with harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write untiI his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.
O, then his Iines wouId ravish savage ears and pIant in tyrants miId humiIity.
From women 's eyes this doctrine I derive.
They sparkIe stiII the right Promethean fire.
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
that show, contain and nourish aII the worId.
EIse none at aII in ought proves exceIIent.
Then fooIs you were these women to forswear,
or keeping what is sworn , you wiII prove fooIs.
For wisdom's sake, a word that aII men Iove,
or for Iove's sake, a word that Ioves aII men ,
or for men 's sake, the authors of these women ,
or for women 's sake, by whom we men are men ,
Iet us once Iose our oaths...to find ourseIves...
..or eIse we Iose ourseIves to keep our oaths.
It is reIigion to be thus forsworn ,
for charity itseIf fuIfiIs the Iaw.
And who can sever Iove from charity?
Saint Cupid, then , and, soIdiers, to the fieId!
Advance your standards, and upon them, Iords, peII-meII down with them!
But be first advised in confIict that you get the sun of them.
Now to pIain -deaIing. Lay these gIozes by.
- ShaII we resoIve to woo these girIs of France? - And win them too.
Therefore Iet us devise some entertainment for them in their tents.
First, from the park Iet us conduct them thither.
Then homeward, every man attach the hand of his fair mistress.
In the afternoon , we wiII with some strange pastime soIace them,
such as the shortness of the time can shape.
For reveIs, dances, masks and merry hours forerun fair Love, strewing her way with fIowers.
(Laughter)
Satis quod sufficit.
I praise God for you , sir, your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious.
PIeasant without scurriIity, witty without affection ,
audacious without impudency, Iearned without opinion , and strange without heresy.
O!
I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the King's,
who is intituIed, nominated, or caIIed... Don Adriano de Armado.
(Laughs)
Novi hominem tanquam te.
His humour is Iofty, his discourse peremptory,
his tongue fiIed, his eye ambitious,
his gait majesticaI, his generaI behaviour vain , ridicuIous, and thrasonicaI.
He is too picked, too spruce, too affected,
too odd, as it were, too...peregrinate, as I may say it.
A most singuIar and choice epithet. (Mutters) Peregrinate...
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the stapIe of his argument.
I abhor such fanaticaI phantasimes, such insociabIe and point-devise companions,
such rackers of orthography, as to speak dout.
Fine, when he shouId say doubt.
Or det, when he shouId pronounce debt.
D-E-B-T, not D-E-T.
He cIepeth a caIf cauf.
HaIf hauf.
Neigh abbreviated ne
This is abhominabIe, which he wouId caII abbominable .
It insinuateth me of insanie. Anne inteIIigis, domine?
To make frantic, Iunatic.
Laus Deo, bene inteIIigo.
Bon , bon , fort bon , Priscian ! A IittIe scratch'd, 'twiII serve.
Videsne quis venit?
Video et gaudeo.
Men of peace, weII encountered.
Most miIitary sir, saIutation .
Sir, it is the King's most sweet pIeasure and affection
to congratuIate the Princess at her paviIion in the posteriors of this day,
which the rude muItitude caII the afternoon .
The...posterior of the day, most generous sir,
is IiabIe, congruent and measurabIe for the afternoon .
The word is weII chosen , cuIIed, sweet and apt, I do assure you , sir, I do assure.
Sir, the King is a nobIe gentIeman , and my famiIiar, I do assure ye, very good friend.
For what is inward between us, Iet it pass.
But must teII thee, it wiII pIease His Grace, by the worId sometime,
to Iean upon my poor shouIder, and with his royaI finger thus,
daIIy with my excrement.
- With my mustachio. - Ah!
But, sweet heart, Iet that pass.
By the worId, I recount no fabIe.
Some certain speciaI honours it pIeaseth his greatness to impart to Armado...
..a soIdier...a man of traveI, that hath seen the worId.
But Iet that pass.
The very aII of aII is, but, sweet heart, I do impIore secrecy.
The King wouId have me present the Princess, sweet chuck, with some deIightfuI ostentation ,
or show, or pageant,
or antique, or firework.
Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet seIf are good at such eruptions
and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were,
I have acquainted you to the end withaI to crave your assistance.
They have been at a great feast of Ianguage and stoIen the scraps.
O, they've Iived Iong on the aIms-basket of words.
I marveI thy master hath not eaten thee for a word.
Sir, you shaII present before her the Nine Worthies.
Sir NathanieI, as concerning some entertainment of time,
some show in the...posterior of this day,
to be rendered by our assistants, the King's command,
this most gaIIant, iIIustrate and Iearned gentIeman , before the Princess.
I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
Where wiII you find men worthy enough to present them?
Joshua, yourseIf.
MyseIf, AIexander. This gaIIant gentIeman , Judas Maccabaeus.
The swain , by reason of his great Iimb or joint, shaII pass Pompey the Great.
- The page, HercuIes. - Pardon , sir. Error.
He is not quantity for that Worthy's thumb.
He is not big enough for the end of his cIub.
ShaII I have audience?
He shaII present HercuIes in minority.
His enter-exit shaII be strangIing a snake.
And I wiII have a proIogue to that purpose.
An exceIIent device! Then if any of the audience hiss, you may cry,
''WeII done, HercuIes! Now thou crushest the snake!''
- For the rest of the Worthies? - I wiII pIay three myseIf.
Thrice-worthy gentIeman !
ShaII I teII you a thing?
- We attend. - We wiII have, if this fadge not, an antique.
I beseech you , foIIow.
Via, Goodman DuII. Thou hast said no word aII this time.
Nor understood none, neither, sir.
AIIons!
We wiII empIoy thee.
I'II make one in a dance, or so.
Or I wiII pIay on the tabour to the Worthies and Iet them dance the hay.
Most duII, honest DuII!
Sweet hearts, we shaII be rich ere we depart, if fairings come thus pIentifuIIy in .
A Iady waII'd about with diamonds!
Look you what I have from the Ioving King.
Madam, came nothing eIse aIong with that?
Nothing but this!
Yes, as much Iove in rhyme as wouId be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
writ o' both sides the Ieaf, margent and aII, that he was fain to seaI on Cupid's name.
That were the way to make his godhead wax...
..for he hath been five thousand year a boy.
Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gaIIows too.
You'II ne'er be friends with him a' kiII'd your sister.
He made her meIanchoIy, sad, and heavy. And so she died.
Had she been Iight, Iike you , of such a merry, nimbIe, stirring spirit,
she might ha' been a grandam ere she died.
And so may you , for a Iight heart Iives Iong.
What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this Iight word?
- A Iight condition in a beauty dark. - We need more Iight to find your meaning out.
You'II mar the Iight by taking it in snuff. Therefore I'II darkIy end the argument.
- What you do, you do it stiII in the dark? - So do not you , for you are a Iight wench.
- I weigh not you , and therefore Iight. - You weigh me not? That's you care not for me.
Great reason . For past cure is stiII past care.
WeII bandied, both. A set of wit weII-pIay'd.
But, RosaIine, you have a favour too.
Who sent it? And what is it?
I wouId you knew.
And if my face were but as fair as yours, my favour were as great.
Be witness this. Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne.
The numbers true, and were the numbering too, I were the fairest goddess on the ground.
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his Ietter.
- Anything Iike? - Much in the Ietters, nothing in the praise.
Beauteous as ink, a good concIusion .
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain ?
- Madam, this gIove. - Did he not send you twain ?
Yes, madam, and moreover, some thousand verses of a faithfuI Iover,
a huge transIation of hypocrisy, viIeIy compiIed...profound simpIicity!
This and these pearIs to me sent LongaviIIe.
- The Ietter is too Iong by haIf a miIe. - I think no Iess.
Dost thou not wish in heart the chain were Ionger and the Ietter short?
Aye, or I wouId these hands might never part.
We are wise girIs to mock our Iovers so.
They are worse fooIs to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne, I'II torture ere I go.
O, that I knew he were but in by the week.
How I wouId make him fawn and beg and seek,
and wait the seasons and observe the times,
and spend his prodigaI wits in bootIess rhymes...
..and shape his service whoIIy to my hests,
and make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So perttaunt-Iike wouId I o'ersway his state.
That he shouId be my fooI and I his fate.
None are so sureIy caught when they are catch'd as wit turn 'd fooI.
FoIIy, in wisdom hatch'd, hath wisdom's warrant and the heIp of schooI
and wit's own grace to grace a Iearned fooI.
The bIood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revoIt to wantonness.
O, I am stabb'd with Iaughter!
- Where's Her Grace? - Thy news, Boyet?
Prepare, madam, prepare! Arm, wenches, arm!
Encounters mounted are against your peace.
Love doth approach disguised, armed in arguments, you'II be surprised.
Muster your wits, stand in your own defence, or hide your heads Iike cowards, and fIy hence.
Saint Denis to Saint Cupid!
What are they that charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say.
Under the cooI shade of a sycamore I thought to cIose mine eyes some haIf an hour,
when , Io, to interrupt my purposed rest, toward that shade I might behoId addrest
the King and his companions.
WariIy, I stoIe into a neighbour thicket by
and overheard what you shaII overhear,
that, by and by, disguised they wiII be here.
But what, but what, come they to visit us?
They do, they do, and are appareII'd thus, Iike Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is to parIey, court and dance.
And every one his Iove-feat wiII advance
unto his severaI mistress, which they'II know
And wiII they so.
The gaIIants shaII be task'd.
For, Iadies, we wiII every one be mask'd.
And not a man of them shaII have the grace, despite of suit, to see a Iady's face.
HoId, RosaIine, this favour thou shaIt wear, and then the King wiII court thee for his dear.
HoId, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine.
So shaII Berowne take me for RosaIine.
And change your favours too, so shaII your Ioves woo contrary, deceived by these removes.
Come on , then . Wear the favours most in sight.
But in this changing what is your intent?
The effect of my intent is to cross theirs.
They do it but in mocking merriment
and mock for mock is onIy my intent.
Their severaI counseIs they unbosom shaII to Ioves mistook,
and so be mock'd withaI upon the next occasion that we meet
with visages dispIayed, to taIk and greet.
- But shaII we dance if they desire us to it? -No, to the death, we shaII not move a foot.
Nor to their penn 'd speech render we no grace, but whiIe 'tis spoke each turn away her face.
Why, that contempt wiII kiII the speaker's heart and quite divorce his memory from his part.
Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt the rest wiII ne'er come in if he be out.
There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown ,
to make theirs ours and ours none but our own .
So shaII we stay, mocking intended game and they, weII-mock'd, depart away with shame.
& Fanfare
The trumpet sounds. Be mask'd.
The maskers come.
& AII haiI, the richest beauties on the earth
& A hoIy parceI of the fairest dames
& That ever...turn 'd their...backs on mortaI views
Their eyes, viIIain , their eyes!
& That ever turn 'd their eyes on mortaI views
& Out...
True. Out indeed.
Boyet, what wouId these strangers? Know their minds.
If they do speak our Ianguage, 'tis our wiII that some pIain man recount their purposes.
- Know what they wouId. - What wouId you with the Princess?
(Russian accent) Nothing but peace and gentIe wisitation .
- What wouId they, say they? - ''Nothing but peace and gentIe wisitation .''
Why, that they have, and bid them so be gone.
She says you have it and you may be gone.
Say to her we have measured many miIes to tread a measure with her on this grass.
They say they have measured many a miIe to tread a measure with you on this grass.
It is not so. Ask them how many inches is in one miIe if they have measured many.
The measure then of one is easiIy toId.
If to come hither you have measured miIes, and many miIes,
the Princess bids you teII how many inches doth fiII up one miIe.
TeII her, we measure them by veary steps.
She hears herseIf.
How many weary steps of many weary miIes you have o'ergone
are number'd in the traveI of one miIe?
We number nothing that we spend for you .
Our duty is so rich, so infinite, that we may do it stiII without accompt.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face that we, Iike savages, may vorship it.
My face is but a moon , and cIouded too.
Vouchsafe, bright moon , and these thy stars to shine,
those cIouds removed upon our watery eyne.
O, vain petitioner! Beg a greater matter.
Thou now requests but moonshine in the water.
Then in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.
Thou bid'st me beg. This begging is not strange.
PIay music, then . Nay, you must do it soon .
Not yet! No dance.
Thus change I Iike the moon .
WiII you not dance?
How come you thus estranged?
You took the moon at fuII, but now she's changed.
Yet stiII she is the moon ...
..and I the man .
& Music begins
The music pIays.
Vouchsafe some motion to it.
Our ears vouchsafe it.
But your Iegs shouId do it.
Since you are strangers and come here by chance, we'II not be nice.
Take hands.
We wiII not dance.
If you deny to dance...Iet's hoId more chat.
In private, then .
I am best pIeased with that.
White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Honey, and miIk, and sugar. There are three.
Nay then , two treys, and if you grow so nice, MethegIin , wort, and maImsey, weII-run dice.
- There's haIf-a-dozen sweets. - Seventh sweet, adieu .
Since you can cog, I'II pIay no more with you .
- One word in secret. - Let it not be sweet.
- Thou grievest my gaII. - GaII? Bitter.
Therefore...meet.
- WiII you vouchsafe with me to change a word? -Name it.
- Fair Iady... - Say you so?
Fair Iord, take that for your fair Iady.
PIease it you ... as much in private and I'II bid adieu .
What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
O, for your reason , quickIy, sir, I Iong.
You have a doubIe tongue within your mask, and wouId afford my speechIess vizard haIf.
VeaI, quoth the Dutchman .
Is not veaI a caIf?
- A caIf, fair Iady? -No, a fair Iord caIf.
- Let's part the word. -No, I'II not be your haIf.
Take aII and wean it. It may prove an ox.
Look how you butt yourseIf in these sharp mocks.
WiII you give horns, chaste Iady? Do not so.
Then die a caIf before your horns do grow.
A word in private with you ere I die.
BIeat softIy then . The butcher hears you cry.
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen as is the razor's edge invisibIe,
cutting a smaIIer hair than may be seen .
Above the sense of sense, so sensibIe seemeth their conference.
Their conceits have wings fIeeter than arrows, buIIets, wind, thought...swifter things!
Not one word more. My maids, break off, break off.
By heaven , aII dry-beaten with pure scoff!
FareweII, mad wenches. You have simpIe wits.
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
(Women Iaugh)
(Boyet joins Iaughter)
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Tapers, they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.
(Russian accent) VeII-Iiking vits they have. Gross, gross, fat, fat.
O, poverty in wit, kingIy-poor fIout!
WiII they not, think you , hang themseIves tonight?
Or ever but in vizards show their faces?
This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.
They were aII in IamentabIe cases.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
Berowne did swear himseIf out of aII suit.
Dumain was at my service. And his sword.
No point, quoth I.
My servant straight was mute.
Lord LongaviIIe said I came o'er his heart.
- And trow you what he caIIed me? - QuaIm, perhaps.
- Yes! - Go, sickness as thou art!
WeII, better wits have worn pIain statute-caps.
But wiII you hear? The King is my Iove sworn .
And quick Berowne hath pIighted troth to me.
And LongaviIIe was for my service born .
Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
Madam and pretty mistresses, give ear.
ImmediateIy they wiII again be here in their own shapes,
for it can never be they wiII digest this harsh indignity.
- WiII they return ? - They wiII, they wiII, God knows.
And Ieap for joy though they are Iame with bIows.
Therefore change favours.
And when they repair, bIow Iike sweet roses in this summer air.
What shaII we do if they return in their own shapes to woo?
Good madam, if by me you'II be advised,
Iet's mock them stiII, as weII-known as disguised.
Let us compIain to them what fooIs were here,
disguised Iike Muscovites in shapeIess gear.
And wonder what they were and to what end their shaIIow shows and proIogues viIeIy penn 'd.
- Where's the Princess? - Gone to her tent.
PIease it Your Majesty command me any service to her thither?
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
I wiII and so wiII she, I know, my Iord.
This feIIow pecks up wit as pigeons pease and utters it again when God doth pIease.
He's wit's pedIer, and retaiIs his wares at wakes and wassaiIs, meetings, markets, fairs.
And we that seII by gross, the Lord doth know, have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This is the ape of form, Monsieur The Nice,
that when he pIays at tabIes, chides the dice in honourabIe terms.
O, he can sing a mean most meanIy and in ushering mend him who can .
The Iadies caII him sweet. The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.
This is the fIower that smiIes on everyone to show his teeth as white as whaIe's bone.
And consciences that wiII not die in debt give him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
A bIister on his sweet tongue with my heart that put Armado's page out of his part!
See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou tiII this man show'd thee
and what art thou now?
AII haiI, sweet madam, and fair time of day.
Fair in ''aII haiI'' is fouI, as I conceive.
- Construe my speeches better, if you may. - Then wish me better. I wiII give you Ieave.
We came to visit you and purpose now to Iead you to our court.
Vouchsafe it, then .
This fieId shaII hoId me and so hoId your vow.
Nor God, nor I, deIights in perjured men .
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke.
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
You nickname Virtue? Vice you shouId have spoke.
For Virtue's office never breaks men 's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour,
yet as pure as the unsuIIied IiIy, I protest,
a worId of torment though I shouId endure,
I wouId not yieId to be your house's guest.
So much I hate a breaking cause to be of heavenIy oaths vow'd with integrity.
O, you have Iived in desoIation here, unseen , unvisited, much to our shame.
Not so, my Iord. It is not so, I swear.
We have had pastimes here and pIeasant game.
A mess of Russians Ieft us but of Iate.
How, madam? Russians?
Ay, in truth, my Iord. Trim gaIIants, fuII of courtship and of state.
Madam, speak true. It is not so, my Iord.
My Iady, to the manner of the days, in courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four indeed confronted were with four in Russian habit.
Here they stay'd an hour and taIk'd apace,
and in that hour, my Iord, they did not bIess us with one happy word.
I dare not caII them fooIs but this I think, when fooIs are thirsty, they wouId fain have drink.
This jest is dry to me. Fair gentIe sweet, your wit makes wise things fooIish.
When we greet, with eyes best seeing, heaven 's fiery eye, by Iight we Iose Iight.
Your capacity is of that nature that to your huge store,
wise things seem fooIish and rich things but poor.
- This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye... - I'm a fooI and fuII of poverty.
But that you take what doth to you beIong.
It were a fauIt to snatch words from my tongue.
O, I am yours, and aII that I possess!
AII the fooI mine?
I cannot give you Iess.
Which of the vizards was it that you wore?
Where? When ? What vizard? Why demand you this?
There, then , that vizard, that superfIuous case, that hid the worse and show'd the better face.
We are descried! They'II mock us now downright.
Let us confess and turn it to a jest.
Amazed, my Iord? Why Iooks Your Highness sad?
HeIp, hoId his brow! He'II swoon !
Why Iook you paIe? Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy...
Thus pour the stars down pIagues for perjury.
Can any face of brass hoId Ionger out?
Here stand I. Lady, dart thy skiII at me.
Bruise me with scorn , confound me with a fIout. Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance.
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit.
And I wiII wish thee never more to dance, nor never more in Russian habit wait.
O, never wiII I trust to speeches penn 'd, nor to the motion of a schooIboy's tongue,
nor come in vizard to my friend, nor woo in rhyme, Iike a bIind harper's song.
Taffeta phrases, siIken terms precise,
three-piIed hyperboIes, spruce affectation , figures pedanticaI.
These summer fIies have bIown me fuII of maggot ostentation .
I do forswear them. And I here protest.
By this white gIove... how white the hand, God knows.
Henceforth, my wooing mind shaII be express'd in russet yeas and honest, kersey noes.
And, to begin ...
Wench...so God heIp me, Ia!
Sans sans, I pray you .
Yet I have a trick of the oId rage. Bear with me, I'm sick. I'II Ieave it by degrees.
These Iords are visited.
You're not free, for the Iord's tokens on you do I see.
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
Our states are forfeit. Seek not to undo us.
It is not so, for how can this be true, that you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
Peace! For I wiII not have to do with you .
Nor shaII not, if I do as I intend.
Speak for yourseIves. My wit is at an end.
Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression ,
- some fair excuse. - The fairest is confession .
Were not you here but even now disguised?
Madam, I was.
And were you weII advised?
I was, fair madam.
When you then were here, what did you whisper in your Iady's ear?
That more than aII the worId I did respect her.
When she shaII chaIIenge this, you wiII reject her.
- Upon mine honour, no. - Peace, peace! Forbear.
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
Despise me when I break this oath of mine.
I wiII...and therefore keep it.
RosaIine, what did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Madam, he swore that he did hoId me dear as precious eyesight
and did vaIue me above this worId,
adding thereto moreover that he wouId wed me, or eIse die my Iover.
God give thee joy of him.
The nobIe Iord most honourabIy doth keep his word.
What mean you , madam?
By my Iife, my troth, Inever made this Iady such an oath.
By heaven , you did!
And to confirm it pIain , you gave me this.
But take it, sir, again .
My faith and this, the Princess I did give.
I knew her by this jeweI on her sIeeve.
Pardon me, sir, this jeweI did she wear.
And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear.
What wiII you have me, or your pearI again ?
Neither of either. I remit both twain .
Hmm!
I see the trick on 't.
Here was a consent, knowing aforehand of our merriment.
The Iadies did change favours. And then we, foIIowing the signs, woo'd but the signs of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror, we are again forsworn in wiII and error.
Much upon this it is.
And might not you forestaII our sport to make us thus untrue?
FuII merriIy hath this brave manage, this career, been run .
Lo, he's tiIting straight! Peace! I've done.
(Drum)
WeIcome, pure wit! Thou partest a fair fray.
O Lord, sir, they wouId know whether the three Worthies shaII come in or no.
- Go bid them prepare. - We wiII turn it fineIy off, sir.
We wiII take some care.
Berowne, they wiII shame us.
- Let them not approach. - We are shame-proof, my Iord.
And 'tis some poIicy to have one show worse than the King's and his company.
I say they shaII not come in .
Nay, my good Iord, Iet me o'erruIe you now.
That sport best pIeases that doth Ieast know how.
Where zeaI strives to content, and the contents dies in the zeaI of that which it presents.
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
where great things Iabouring perish in their birth.
A right description of our sport, my Iord.
Anointed, I impIore so much of your royaI sweet breath that wouId utter a brace of words.
- Doth this man serve God? - Why ask you?
He speaks not Iike a man of God's making.
That is aII one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch,
for, I protest, the schooImaster is exceeding fantasticaI
too, too vain , too, too vain !
But I wiII put it down , as they say, to ''fortuna de Ia guerra''.
I wish you the peace of mind, most royaI coupIement!
- (Laughter) - Shh!
Here is Iike to be a goodIy presence of Worthies.
He presents Hector of Troy.
The swain , Pompey the Great.
- The parish curate, AIexander. - (Laughter)
Armado's page, HercuIes.
The pedant, Judas Maccabaeus.
I Pompey am.
- You Iie, you're not he. - I Pompey am!
- With Iibbard's head on knee! - WeII said, oId mocker.
I must needs be friends with thee.
I Pompey am!
Pompey surnamed the Big.
The Great!
(Laughter)
'Tis Great, sir... Pompey surnamed the Great.
That oft in fieId, with targe and shieId, did make my foe to sweat.
And traveIIing aIong this coast, I here am come by chance,
and Iay my arms before the Iegs of this sweet Iass of France.
If your Iadyship wouId say, ''Thanks, Pompey,'' I had done.
Great thanks, Great Pompey.
It's not so much worth, but I hope I was perfect. I made a IittIe fauIt in ''Great''.
My hat to a ha'penny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.
(AppIause)
(NervousIy ) When in the worId I Iived, I was the worId's commander.
Louder !
By east, by west, by north...south...
..I spread my conquering might.
My scutcheon pIain decIares that I am AIisander...
Your nose says, no, you're not, for it stands too right.
Your nose smeIIs no in this, most tender-smeIIing knight.
The conqueror is dismay'd.
Proceed, good AIexander.
- (Very nervousIy ) When in the worId I Iived... - (Groaning)
..I was the worId's commander.
- Most true 'tis right you were so Alisander - (SIow cIapping)
- Pompey the Great! - Your servant and Costard.
Take away the conqueror, take away AIisander.
O, sir, you have overthrown AIisander the Conqueror!
A conqueror and afeard to speak?
- Run away for shame, AIisander. - Aw!
There, an 't shaII pIease you , a fooIish miId man .
An honest man , Iook you , and soon dashed.
He is a marveIIous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowIer.
But, for AIisander, aIas, you see how it is...
a IittIe o'erparted.
But there are Worthies a-coming wiII speak their mind in some other sort.
Stand aside, good Pompey.
Great HercuIes is presented by this imp,
whose cIub kiII'd Cerberus, the three-headed canis.
And when he was a babe, a chiId, a shrimp,
thus did he strangIe serpents in his...manus.
(Amused shouts)
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority, ergo I come with this apoIogy.
Keep some state in thy exit and vanish.
(Laughter)
I Judas am.
- A Judas? - (Hissing)
Not Iscariot, sir. Judas ycIiped Maccabaeus.
Judas Maccabaeus cIipt is pIain Judas.
- I Judas am. - The more shame for you , Judas.
- What mean you , sir? - To make Judas hang himseIf.
Begin , sir, you are my eIder.
WeII-foIIowed. Judas was hanged on an eIder.
- I wiII not be put out of countenance. - Because thou hast no face?
- What is this? - A cittern -head?
- A head of a bodkin ? - A death 's-face in a ring?
The face of an oId Roman coin scarce-seen ?
Forward, for we have put thee in countenance.
- Put me out of countenance. - FaIse, we have given thee faces.
- You've out-faced them aII. - And thou wert a Iion , we wouId do so.
Therefore, as he is an ass, Iet him go. And so adieu , sweet Jude!
- Nay why dost thou stay? - For the latter end of his name
For the ass to the Jude Give it hi
Jud...ass!
This is not generous, not gentIe, not humbIe.
(Ripping)
A Iight for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark, he may stumbIe.
AIas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!
Hide thy head, AchiIIes. Here comes Hector in arms.
- But is this Hector ? - I think Hector was not so clean -tibered
- His leg is too big for Hector 's - More calf certain
No, he is best endued in the smaII.
- This cannot be Hector. - He's a god or a painter, for he makes faces.
The armipotent Mars.
Of Iances...the AImighty...gave Hector a gift.
A giIt nutmeg!
- A Iemon ? - Stuck with cIoves.
The armipotent Mars.
Of Iances, the AImighty...gave Hector a gift.
The heir of IIion .
A man so breathed that certain he wouId fight,
yea, from morn tiII night, from out of his paviIion .
I...am that fIower!
- That mint. - That coIumbine.
Sweet Lord LongaviIIe, rein thy tongue!
I must rather give it the rein , for it runs against Hector.
Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.
The sweet war-man is dead and rotten .
Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried.
When he breathed, he was a man .
But I wiII forward with my device.
Sweet royaIty, bestow on me the benefit of hearing.
Speak, brave Hector, we are much deIighted.
This Hector far surmounted HannibaI.
- The party is gone... - FeIIow Hector, she is gone!
- She is two months on her way. - What sayest thou?
UnIess you pIay the honest Troyan , the poor wench is cast away.
She's quick. The chiId brags in her beIIy aIready. 'Tis yours!
Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shaIt die.
Then shaII Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him
and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.
- Most rare Pompey! - Renowned Pompey!
Greater than great great great Great Pompey! Pompey the Huge!
- Hector trembles - By the North PoIe, I chaIIenge thee.
I wiII not fight with a poIe, Iike a northern man . I'II sIash! I'II do it by the sword!
I bepray you , Iet me borrow my arms again .
- Room for the incensed Worthies! - I'II do it in my shirt.
- Most resoIute Pompey! - Master, Iet me take you a buttonhoIe Iower.
Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you?
(Whispers) You wiII Iose your reputation .
GentIemen and soIdiers, pardon me.
- I wiII not combat in my shirt. - What reason hast thou you for it?
The naked truth of it is...
..I have no shirt.
I go wooIward for penance.
God save you , madam!
WeIcome, Mercade, but that thou interrupt'st our merriment?
I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring is heavy in my tongue.
- The King, your father... - Dead, for my Iife...
Even so.
My tale is told
For mine own part, I breathe free breath.
I have seen the day of wrong through the IittIe hoIe of discretion
and I wiII right myseIf Iike a soIdier.
How fares Your Majesty?
Boyet, prepare. I wiII away tonight.
Prepare, I say.
I thank you , gracious Iords, for aII your fair endeavours.
And entreat, out of a new-sad souI,
that you vouchsafe in your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
the IiberaI opposition of our spirits.
If over-boIdIy we have borne ourseIves in the converse of breath...
..your gentIeness was guiIty of it.
FareweII, worthy Iord.
A heavy heart bears not a nimbIe tongue.
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks, for my great suit so easiIy obtain 'd.
The extreme parts of time extremeIy forms aII causes to the purpose of his speed,
and often at his very Ioose decides that which Iong process couId not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progeny forbid the smiling courtesy of love
the holy suit which fain it would convince
Yet since Iove's argument was first on foot,
Iet not the cIoud of sorrow justIe it from what it purposed.
Since to waiI friends Iost is not by much so whoIesome profitabIe
as to rejoice at friends but newIy found.
I understand you not. My griefs are doubIe.
Honest pIain words best pierce the ear of grief.
For your fair sakes have we negIected time, pIay'd fouI pIay with our oaths.
Your beauty, Iadies, hath much deform'd us,
fashioning our humours even to the opposed end of our intents.
And what in us hath seem'd ridicuIous,
as Iove is fuII of unbefitting strains,
aII wanton as a chiId, skipping and vain ,
form'd by the eye, and therefore Iike the eye,
fuII of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
varying in subjects as the eye doth roII
to every varied object in its gIance.
Which parti-coated presence of Ioose Iove put on by us,
if, in your heavenIy eye, have misbecomed our oaths and gravities...
..those heavenIy eyes that Iooked into these fauIts suggested us to make.
Therefore, Iadies, our Iove being yours, the error that Iove makes is Iikewise yours.
for ever to be true to those that make us both.
Fair Iadies, you !
We have received your Ietters fuII of Iove.
Your favours, the ambassadors of Iove.
And in our maiden counciI, rated them for courtship, pIeasant jest and courtesy,
as bombast and as Iining to the time.
But more devout than this in our respects have we not been .
And therefore met your Ioves in their own fashion ...Iike a merriment.
Our Ietters, madam, show'd much more than jest.
- So did our Iooks. - We did not quote them so.
Now, at the Iatest minute of the hour, grant us your Ioves.
A time, methinks, too short to make a worId-without-end bargain in .
No, no, my Iord.
Your Grace is perjured much, fuII of dear guiItiness.
And therefore this.
If for my Iove, as there is no such cause you wiII do aught, this shaII you do for me.
Your oath I wiII not trust,
but go with speed to some forIorn and naked hermitage,
remote from aII the pIeasures of the worId.
There stay untiI the tweIve ceIestiaI signs have brought about the annuaI reckoning.
If this austere, insociabIe Iife change not your offer made in heat of bIood...
..if frosts and fasts, hard Iodging and thin weeds nip not the gaudy bIossoms of your Iove...
..but that it bear this triaI and Iast Iove...
..then , at the expiration of the year,
come, chaIIenge me, chaIIenge me by these deserts...
..and by this virgin paIm now kissing thine, I wiII be thine.
And tiII that instant,
shut my woefuI seIf up in a mournfuI house,
raining the tears of Iamentation for the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, Iet our hands part...
..neither entitIed in the other's heart.
If this, or more than this, I wouId deny, to fIatter up these powers of mine with rest,
the sudden hand of death cIose up mine eye.
Hence hermit then .
My heart is in thy breast.
But what to me, my Iove? But what to me?
- A wife? - A beard, fair heaIth and honesty.
With three-foId Iove, I wish you aII these three.
O, shaII I say, I thank you , gentIe wife?
Not so, my Iord.
A tweIvemonth and a day, I'II mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say.
Come when the King doth to my Iady come.
Then , if I have much Iove, I'II give you some.
I'II serve thee true and faithfuIIy tiII then .
Yet swear not, Iest ye be forsworn again .
What says Maria?
At the tweIvemonth end, I'II change my bIack gown for a faithfuI friend.
Studies, my Iady?
Mistress, Iook on me.
BehoId the window of my heart, mine eye, what humbIe suit attends thy answer there.
Impose some service on me for thy Iove.
Oft have I heard of you , my Lord Berowne, before I saw you .
And the worId's Iarge tongue procIaims you for a man repIete with mocks,
fuII of comparisons and wounding fIouts,
which you on aII estates wiII execute that come within the mercy of your wit.
To weed this wormwood from your fruitfuI brain , and therewithaI to win me, if you pIease,
without the which I am not to be won ,
you shaII this tweIvemonth term from day to day
visit the speechIess sick and stiII converse with groaning wretches.
And your task shaII be, with aII the fierce endeavour of your wit...
..to enforce the pained impotent to smiIe.
To move wiId Iaughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be. It's impossibIe.
Mirth cannot move a souI in agony.
Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
whose infIuence is begot of that Ioose grace, which shaIIow Iaughing hearers give to fooIs.
A jest's prosperity Iies in the ear of him that hears it,
never in the tongue of him that makes it.
Then if sickIy ears, deaf'd with the cIamours of their own dear groans,
wiII hear your idIe scorns, continue then and I wiII have you and that fauIt withaI.
But if they wiII not, throw away that spirit and I shaII find you empty of that fauIt,
right joyfuI of your reformation .
A tweIvemonth?
WeII, befaII what wiII befaII, I'II jest a tweIvemonth in a hospitaI.
And so I take my Ieave.
No, madam. We wiII bring you on your way.
Our wooing doth not end Iike an oId pIay. Jack hath not JiII.
These Iadies' courtesy might weII have made our sport a comedy.
Come, sir, it wants a tweIvemonth and a day and then 'twiII end.
That's too Iong for a pIay.
- Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me. - Was not that Hector?
- The worthy knight of Troy. - I wiII kiss thy royaI finger and take Ieave.
I am a votary.
I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hoId the pIough for her sweet Iove three years.
But, most esteemed greatness, wiII you hear the diaIogue
that the two Iearned men have compiIed in praise of the owI and the cuckoo?
It shouId have foIIowed at the end of our show.
Call them forth quickly We will do so
& When daisies pied and vioIets bIue
& And Iady-smocks aII siIver-white
& And cuckoo-buds of yeIIow hue
& Do paint the meadows
& The meadows with deIight
& The cuckoo then on every tree mocks married men
& Mocks married men
& For thus sings he cuckoo!
& Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
& O word of fear
& Unpleasing to a married ear
& A married ear
& When icicles hang by the wall
& And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
& And Tom bears logs into the hall
& And milk comes frozen home in pail
& And bIood is nipp'd and ways be fouI
& Then nightIy sings the staring owI
& Tu-whit, tu-who, tu-whit, tu-who
& Tu -whit tu -who
& A merry note whiIe greasy Joan doth keeI the pot
& A merry note
& WhiIe Joan doth keeI the pot
The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of ApoIIo.
( Thinks) You that way
& When shepherds pipe on oaten straws
& And merry Iarks are pIoughmen 's cIocks
& When turtIes tread, and rooks and daws
& And rooks and daws
& And maidens bIeach their summer smocks
& The cuckoo then on every tree
& Mocks married men
& When aII aIoud the wind doth bIow
& And coughing drowns the parson 's saw
& And birds sit brooding in the snow
& And Marian 's nose Iooks red and raw
& When roasted crabs hiss in the bowI
& Then nightIy sings the staring owI
& Tu-who
& Tu-whit, tu-who, tu-whit, tu-who
& A merry note
& Cuckoo cuckoo & WhiIe greasy Joan doth keeI the pot
& UnpIeasing to a married ear
& A married ear
& Cuckoo & A merry note
& WhiIe greasy Joan doth keeI the pot
& Doth keeI the pot
& Cuckoo