| ACT V SCENE II | The same. | |
| | Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA | |
| PRINCESS | Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, | |
| | If fairings come thus plentifully in: | |
| | A lady wall'd about with diamonds! | |
| | Look you what I have from the loving king. |
| ROSALINE | Madame, came nothing else along with that? | |
| PRINCESS | Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme | |
| | As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, | |
| | Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, | |
| | That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. |
| ROSALINE | That was the way to make his godhead wax, | 10 |
| | For he hath been five thousand years a boy. | |
| KATHARINE | Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. | |
| ROSALINE | You'll ne'er be friends with him; a' kill'd your sister. | |
| KATHARINE | He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; |
| | And so she died: had she been light, like you, | |
| | Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, | |
| | She might ha' been a grandam ere she died:
| |
| | And so may you; for a light heart lives long. | |
| ROSALINE | What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word? |
| KATHARINE | A light condition in a beauty dark. | 20 |
| ROSALINE | We need more light to find your meaning out. | |
| KATHARINE | You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff; | |
| | Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. | |
| ROSALINE | Look what you do, you do it still i' the dark. |
| KATHARINE | So do not you, for you are a light wench. | |
| ROSALINE | Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light. | |
| KATHARINE | You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me. | |
| ROSALINE | Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.' | |
| PRINCESS | Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd. |
| | But Rosaline, you have a favour too: | 30 |
| | Who sent it? and what is it? | |
| ROSALINE | I would you knew: | |
| | An if my face were but as fair as yours, | |
| | My favour were as great; be witness this. |
| | Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron: | |
| | 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 letter! |
| PRINCESS | Any thing like? | |
| ROSALINE | Much in the letters; nothing in the praise. | 40 |
| PRINCESS | Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion. | |
| KATHARINE | Fair as a text B in a copy-book. | |
| ROSALINE | 'Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor, |
| | My red dominical, my golden letter: | |
| | O, that your face were not so full of O's! | |
| KATHARINE | A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows. | |
| PRINCESS | But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain? | |
| KATHARINE | Madam, this glove. |
| PRINCESS | Did he not send you twain? | |
| KATHARINE | Yes, madam, and moreover | |
| | Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, | 50 |
| | A huge translation of hypocrisy, | |
| | Vilely compiled, profound simplicity. |
| MARIA | This and these pearls to me sent Longaville: | |
| | The letter is too long by half a mile. | |
| PRINCESS | I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart | |
| | The chain were longer and the letter short? | |
| MARIA | Ay, or I would these hands might never part. |
| PRINCESS | We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. | |
| ROSALINE | They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. | |
| | That same Biron I'll torture ere I go: | 60 |
| | O that I knew he were but in by the week! | |
| | How I would make him fawn and beg and seek |
| | And wait the season and observe the times | |
| | And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes | |
| | And shape his service wholly to my hests | |
| | And make him proud to make me proud that jests! | |
| | So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state |
| | That he should be my fool and I his fate. | |
| PRINCESS | None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, | |
| | As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd, | 70 |
| | Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school | |
| | And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. |
| ROSALINE | The blood of youth burns not with such excess | |
| | As gravity's revolt to wantonness. | |
| MARIA | Folly in fools bears not so strong a note | |
| | As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; | |
| | Since all the power thereof it doth apply |
| | To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. | |
| PRINCESS | Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. | |
| | Enter BOYET. | |
| BOYET | O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace? | |
| PRINCESS | Thy news Boyet? | |
| BOYET | Prepare, madam, prepare! | 82 |
| | Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are | |
| | Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised, | |
| | Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised: | |
| | Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; | |
| | Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence. |
| PRINCESS | Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they | |
| | That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say. | |
| BOYET | Under the cool shade of a sycamore | |
| | I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; | 90 |
| | When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest, |
| | Toward that shade I might behold addrest | |
| | The king and his companions: warily | |
| | I stole into a neighbour thicket by, | |
| | And overheard what you shall overhear, | |
| | That, by and by, disguised they will be here. |
| | Their herald is a pretty knavish page, | |
| | That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage: | |
| | Action and accent did they teach him there; | |
| | 'Thus must thou speak,' and 'thus thy body bear:' | 100 |
| | And ever and anon they made a doubt |
| | Presence majestical would put him out, | |
| | 'For,' quoth the king, 'an angel shalt thou see; | |
| | Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.' | |
| | The boy replied, 'An angel is not evil; | |
| | I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.' |
| | With that, all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the shoulder, | |
| | Making the bold wag by their praises bolder: | |
| | One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd and swore | |
| | A better speech was never spoke before; | |
| | Another, with his finger and his thumb, | 111 |
| | Cried, 'Via! we will do't, come what will come;' | |
| | The third he caper'd, and cried, 'All goes well;' | |
| | The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell. | |
| | With that, they all did tumble on the ground, | |
| | With such a zealous laughter, so profound, |
| | That in this spleen ridiculous appears, | |
| | To cheque their folly, passion's solemn tears. | |
| PRINCESS | But what, but what, come they to visit us? | |
| BOYET | They do, they do: and are apparell'd thus. | 120 |
| | Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. |
| | Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance; | |
| | And every one his love-feat will advance | |
| | Unto his several mistress, which they'll know | |
| | By favours several which they did bestow. | |
| PRINCESS | And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd; |
| | For, ladies, we shall every one be mask'd; | |
| | And not a man of them shall have the grace, | |
| | Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. | |
| | Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear, | 130 |
| | And then the king will court thee for his dear; |
| | Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine, | |
| | So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. | |
| | And change your favours too; so shall your loves | |
| | Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. | |
| ROSALINE | Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight. |
| KATHARINE | But in this changing what is your intent? | |
| PRINCESS | The effect of my intent is to cross theirs: | |
| | They do it but in mocking merriment; | |
| | And mock for mock is only my intent. | 140 |
| | Their several counsels they unbosom shall |
| | To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal | |
| | Upon the next occasion that we meet, | |
| | With visages displayed, to talk and greet. | |
| ROSALINE | But shall we dance, if they desire to't? | |
| PRINCESS | No, to the death, we will not move a foot; |
| | Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace, | |
| | But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face. | |
| BOYET | Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, | |
| | And quite divorce his memory from his part. | 150 |
| PRINCESS | Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt |
| | The rest will 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 shall we stay, mocking intended game, | |
| | And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. |
| | [ Trumpets sound within. ] | |
| BOYET | The trumpet sounds: be mask'd; the maskers come. | |
| | [ The Ladies mask. ] | |
| | [ Enter Blackamoors with music; MOTH; FERDINAND, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Russian habits, and masked. ] | |
| MOTH | All hail, the richest beauties on the earth! | |
| BOYET | Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. | |
| MOTH | A holy parcel of the fairest dames. | |
| | [The Ladies turn their backs to him. ] | |
| | That ever turn'd their--backs--to mortal views! |
| BIRON | [ Aside to MOTH. ] Their eyes, villain, their eyes. | |
| MOTH | That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views!--Out-- | |
| BOYET | True; out indeed. | |
| MOTH | Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe | |
| | Not to behold-- | |
| BIRON | [ Aside to MOTH. ] | |
| MOTH | Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, | 170 |
| | --with your sun-beamed eyes-- | |
| BOYET | They will not answer to that epithet; | |
| | You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes.' | |
| MOTH | They do not mark me, and that brings me out. | |
| BIRON | Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! |
| | [ Exit MOTH. ] | |
| ROSALINE | What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet: | |
| | If they do speak our language, 'tis our will: | |
| | That some plain man recount their purposes | |
| | Know what they would. | |
| BOYET | What would you with the princess? | 179 |
| BIRON | Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. | |
| ROSALINE | What would they, say they? | |
| BOYET | Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. | |
| ROSALINE | Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. | |
| BOYET | She says, you have it, and you may be gone. |
| FERDINAND | Say to her, we have measured many miles | |
| | To tread a measure with her on this grass. | |
| BOYET | They say, that they have measured many a mile | |
| | To tread a measure with you on this grass. | |
| ROSALINE | It is not so. Ask them how many inches |
| | Is in one mile: if they have measured many, | 190 |
| | The measure then of one is easily told. | |
| BOYET | If to come hither you have measured miles, | |
| | And many miles, the princess bids you tell | |
| | How many inches doth fill up one mile. |
| BIRON | Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. | |
| BOYET | She hears herself. | |
| ROSALINE | How many weary steps, | |
| | Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, | |
| | Are number'd in the travel of one mile? |
| BIRON | We number nothing that we spend for you: | |
| | Our duty is so rich, so infinite, | 200 |
| | That we may do it still without accompt. | |
| | Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, | |
| | That we, like savages, may worship it. |
| ROSALINE | My face is but a moon, and clouded too. | |
| FERDINAND | Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! | |
| | Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine, | |
| | Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne. | |
| ROSALINE | O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; |
| | Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. | |
| FERDINAND | Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change. | |
| | Thou bid'st me beg: this begging is not strange. | 211 |
| ROSALINE | Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. | |
| | [ Music plays. ] | |
| | Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon. |
| FERDINAND | Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? | |
| ROSALINE | You took the moon at full, but now she's changed. | |
| FERDINAND | Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. | |
| | The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. | |
| ROSALINE | Our ears vouchsafe it. |
| FERDINAND | But your legs should do it. | |
| ROSALINE | Since you are strangers and come here by chance, | |
| | We'll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance. | 220 |
| FERDINAND | Why take we hands, then? | |
| ROSALINE | Only to part friends: |
| | Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. | |
| FERDINAND | More measure of this measure; be not nice. | |
| ROSALINE | We can afford no more at such a price. | |
| FERDINAND | Prize you yourselves: what buys your company? | |
| ROSALINE | Your absence only. |
| FERDINAND | That can never be. | |
| ROSALINE | Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu; | |
| | Twice to your visor, and half once to you. | |
| FERDINAND | If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. | |
| ROSALINE | In private, then. | 230 |
| FERDINAND | I am best pleased with that. | |
| | [ They converse apart. ] | |
| BIRON | White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. | |
| PRINCESS | Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. | |
| BIRON | Nay then, two treys, and if you grow so nice, | |
| | Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice! |
| | There's half-a-dozen sweets. | |
| PRINCESS | Seventh sweet, adieu: | |
| | Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. | |
| BIRON | One word in secret. | |
| PRINCESS | Let it not be sweet. |
| BIRON | Thou grievest my gall. | |
| PRINCESS | Gall! bitter. | |
| BIRON | Therefore meet. | |
| | [ They converse apart. ] | |
| DUMAIN | Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? | |
| MARIA | Name it. |
| DUMAIN | Fair lady,-- | |
| MARIA | Say you so? Fair lord,-- | |
| | Take that for your fair lady. | |
| DUMAIN | Please it you, | |
| | As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. |
| | [ They converse apart. ] | |
| KATHARINE | What, was your vizard made without a tongue? | |
| LONGAVILLE | I know the reason, lady, why you ask. | |
| KATHARINE | O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. | |
| LONGAVILLE | You have a double tongue within your mask, | |
| | And would afford my speechless vizard half. |
| KATHARINE | Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not 'veal' a calf? | |
| LONGAVILLE | A calf, fair lady! | |
| KATHARINE | No, a fair lord calf. | |
| LONGAVILLE | Let's part the word. | |
| KATHARINE | No, I'll not be your half | 250 |
| | Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. | |
| LONGAVILLE | Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks! | |
| | Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. | |
| KATHARINE | Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. | |
| LONGAVILLE | One word in private with you, ere I die. |
| KATHARINE | Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry. | |
| | [ They converse apart. ] | |
| BOYET | The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen | |
| | As is the razor's edge invisible, | |
| | Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, | |
| | Above the sense of sense; so sensible | 260 |
| | Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings | |
| | Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. | |
| ROSALINE | Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. | |
| BIRON | By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! | |
| FERDINAND | Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. |
| PRINCESS | Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. | |
| | Exeunt FERDINAND, Lords, and Blackamoors. | |
| | Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? | |
| BOYET | Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. | |
| ROSALINE | Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. | |
| PRINCESS | O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! | 270 |
| | Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight? | |
| | Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces? | |
| | This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. | |
| ROSALINE | O, they were all in lamentable cases! | |
| | The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. |
| PRINCESS | Biron did swear himself out of all suit. | |
| MARIA | Dumain was at my service, and his sword: | |
| | No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute. | |
| KATHARINE | Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; | |
| | And trow you what he called me? |
| PRINCESS | Qualm, perhaps. | 280 |
| KATHARINE | Yes, in good faith. | |
| PRINCESS | Go, sickness as thou art! | |
| ROSALINE | Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. | |
| | But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. |
| PRINCESS | And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. | |
| KATHARINE | And Longaville was for my service born. | |
| MARIA | Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. | |
| BOYET | Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: | |
| | Immediately they will again be here |
| | In their own shapes; for it can never be | |
| | They will digest this harsh indignity. | 290 |
| PRINCESS | Will they return? | |
| BOYET | They will, they will, God knows, | |
| | And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: |
| | Therefore change favours; and, when they repair, | |
| | Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. | |
| PRINCESS | How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. | |
| BOYET | Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud; | |
| | Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, |
| | Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. | |
| PRINCESS | Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, | 310 |
| | If they return in their own shapes to woo? | |
| ROSALINE | Good madam, if by me you'll be advised, | |
| | Let's, mock them still, as well known as disguised: |
| | Let us complain to them what fools were here, | |
| | Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; | |
| | And wonder what they were and to what end | |
| | Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn'd | |
| | And their rough carriage so ridiculous, |
| | Should be presented at our tent to us. | |
| BOYET | Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand. |
| PRINCESS | Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land. | |
| | Exeunt PRINCESS, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA. | |
| | Re-enter FERDINAND, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habits | |
| FERDINAND | Fair sir, God save you! Where's the princess? | |
| BOYET | Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty |
| | Command me any service to her thither? | |
| FERDINAND | That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. | |
| BOYET | I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. | |
| | Exit. | |
| BIRON | This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease, | |
| | And utters it again when God doth please: |
| | He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares | |
| | At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; | 320 |
| | And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, | |
| | Have not the grace to grace it with such show. | |
| | This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; |
| | Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve; | |
| | A' can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he | |
| | That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy; | |
| | This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, | |
| | That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice |
| | In honourable terms: nay, he can sing | |
| | A mean most meanly; and in ushering | 330 |
| | Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet; | |
| | The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet: | |
| | This is the flower that smiles on every one, |
| | To show his teeth as white as whale's bone; | |
| | And consciences, that will not die in debt, | |
| | Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. | |
| FERDINAND | A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, | |
| | That put Armado's page out of his part! |
| BIRON | See where it comes! Behavior, what wert thou | |
| | Till this madman show'd thee? and what art thou now? | 340 |
| | Re-enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET, ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE. | |
| FERDINAND | All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! | |
| PRINCESS | 'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive. | |
| FERDINAND | Construe my speeches better, if you may. |
| PRINCESS | Then wish me better; I will give you leave. | |
| FERDINAND | We came to visit you, and purpose now | |
| | To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. | |
| PRINCESS | This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow: | |
| | Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men. |
| FERDINAND | Rebuke me not for that which you provoke: | |
| | The virtue of your eye must break my oath. | 350 |
| PRINCESS | You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke; | |
| | For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. | |
| | Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure |
| | As the unsullied lily, I protest, | |
| | A world of torments though I should endure, | |
| | I would not yield to be your house's guest; | |
| | So much I hate a breaking cause to be | |
| | Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. |
| FERDINAND | O, you have lived in desolation here, | |
| | Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. | 360 |
| PRINCESS | Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; | |
| | We have had pastimes here and pleasant game: | |
| | A mess of Russians left us but of late. |
| FERDINAND | How, madam! Russians! | |
| PRINCESS | Ay, in truth, my lord; | |
| | Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. | |
| ROSALINE | Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord: | |
| | My lady, 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, | 370 |
| | And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, | |
| | They did not bless us with one happy word. |
| | I dare not call them fools; but this I think, | |
| | When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. | |
| BIRON | This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet, | |
| | Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet, | |
| | With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, |
| | By light we lose light: your capacity | |
| | Is of that nature that to your huge store | |
| | Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor. | 380 |
| ROSALINE | This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye,-- | |
| BIRON | I am a fool, and full of poverty. |
| ROSALINE | But that you take what doth to you belong, | |
| | It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. | |
| BIRON | O, I am yours, and all that I possess! | |
| ROSALINE | All the fool mine? | |
| BIRON | I cannot give you less. |
| ROSALINE | Which of the vizards was it that you wore? | |
| BIRON | Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this? | |
| ROSALINE | There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case | |
| | That hid the worse and show'd the better face. | 390 |
| FERDINAND | We are descried; they'll mock us now downright. |
| DUMAIN | Let us confess and turn it to a jest. | |
| PRINCESS | Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad? | |
| ROSALINE | Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale? | |
| | Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. | |
| BIRON | Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. |
| | Can any face of brass hold longer out? | |
| | Here stand I lady, dart thy skill at me; | |
| | Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; | |
| | Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; | 400 |
| | Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; |
| | And I will wish thee never more to dance, | |
| | Nor never more in Russian habit wait. | |
| | O, never will I trust to speeches penn'd, | |
| | Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue, | |
| | Nor never come in vizard to my friend, |
| | Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song! | |
| | Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, | |
| | Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, | |
| | Figures pedantical; these summer-flies | 410 |
| | Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: |
| | I do forswear them; and I here protest, | |
| | By this white glove;--how white the hand, God knows!-- | |
| | Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd | |
| | In russet yeas and honest kersey noes: | |
| | And, to begin, wench,--so God help me, la!-- |
| | My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. | |
| ROSALINE | Sans sans, I pray you. | |
| BIRON | Yet I have a trick | |
| | Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick; | |
| | I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see: | 420 |
| | Write, 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three; | |
| | They are infected; in their hearts it lies; | |
| | They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes; | |
| | These lords are visited; you are not free, | |
| | For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. |
| PRINCESS | No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. | |
| BIRON | Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us. | |
| ROSALINE | It is not so; for how can this be true, | |
| | That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? | |
| BIRON | Peace! for I will not have to do with you. | 430 |
| ROSALINE | Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. | |
| BIRON | Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end. | |
| FERDINAND | Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression | |
| | Some fair excuse. | |
| PRINCESS | The fairest is confession. |
| | Were not you here but even now disguised? | |
| FERDINAND | Madam, I was. | |
| PRINCESS | And were you well advised? | |
| FERDINAND | I was, fair madam. | |
| PRINCESS | When you then were here, |
| | What did you whisper in your lady's ear? | |
| FERDINAND | That more than all the world I did respect her. | |
| PRINCESS | When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. | |
| FERDINAND | Upon mine honour, no. | |
| PRINCESS | Peace, peace! forbear: |
| | Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. | 442 |
| FERDINAND | Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. | |
| PRINCESS | I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline, | |
| | What did the Russian whisper in your ear? | |
| ROSALINE | Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear |
| | As precious eyesight, and did value me | |
| | Above this world; adding thereto moreover | |
| | That he would wed me, or else die my lover. | |
| PRINCESS | God give thee joy of him! the noble lord | |
| | Most honourably doth unhold his word. | 452 |
| FERDINAND | What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, | |
| | I never swore this lady such an oath. | |
| ROSALINE | By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, | |
| | You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. | |
| FERDINAND | My faith and this the princess I did give: |
| | I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. | |
| PRINCESS | Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; | |
| | And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. | |
| | What, will you have me, or your pearl again? | 460 |
| BIRON | Neither of either; I remit both twain. |
| | I see the trick on't: here was a consent, | |
| | Knowing aforehand of our merriment, | |
| | To dash it like a Christmas comedy: | |
| | Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, | |
| | Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, |
| | That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick | |
| | To make my lady laugh when she's disposed, | |
| | Told our intents before; which once disclosed, | |
| | The ladies did change favours: and then we, | 470 |
| | Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. |
| | Now, to our perjury to add more terror, | |
| | We are again forsworn, in will and error. | |
| | Much upon this it is: and might not you | |
| | To BOYET. | |
| | Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? | |
| | Do not you know my lady's foot by the squier, |
| | And laugh upon the apple of her eye? | |
| | And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, | |
| | Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? | |
| | You put our page out: go, you are allow'd; | 480 |
| | Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. |
| | You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye | |
| | Wounds like a leaden sword. | |
| BOYET | Full merrily | |
| | Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. | |
| BIRON | Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done. |
| | Enter COSTARD. | |
| | Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. | |
| COSTARD | O Lord, sir, they would know | |
| | Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no. | |
| BIRON | What, are there but three? | |
| COSTARD | No, sir; but it is vara fine, |
| | For every one pursents three. | |
| BIRON | And three times thrice is nine. | |
| COSTARD | Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so. | 491 |
| | You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir we know | |
| | what we know: |
| | I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,-- | |
| BIRON | Is not nine. | |
| COSTARD | Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. | |
| BIRON | By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. | |
| COSTARD | O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living |
| | by reckoning, sir. | |
| BIRON | How much is it? | 500 |
| COSTARD | O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, | |
| | sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine | |
| | own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man |
| | in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir. | |
| BIRON | Art thou one of the Worthies? | |
| COSTARD | It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the | |
| | Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of | |
| | the Worthy, but I am to stand for him. |
| BIRON | Go, bid them prepare. | |
| COSTARD | We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take | |
| | some care. | |
| | Exit. | |
| FERDINAND | Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach. | |
| BIRON | We are shame-proof, my lord: and tis some policy |
| | To have one show worse than the king's and his company. | |
| FERDINAND | I say they shall not come. | |
| PRINCESS | Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now: | |
| | That sport best pleases that doth least know how: | |
| | Where zeal strives to content, and the contents |
| | Dies in the zeal of that which it presents: | |
| | Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, | |
| | When great things labouring perish in their birth. | 520 |
| BIRON | A right description of our sport, my lord. | |
| | Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. | |
| ARMADO | Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal |
| | sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. | |
| | [ Converses apart with FERDINAND, and delivers him a paper .] | |
| PRINCESS | Doth this man serve God? | |
| BIRON | Why ask you? | |
| PRINCESS | He speaks not like a man of God's making. | |
| ARMADO | That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, |
| | I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding | |
| | fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we | |
| | will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. | |
| | I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! | |
| | Exit. | |
| FERDINAND | Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He |
| | presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the | |
| | Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, | |
| | Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus: And if | |
| | these four Worthies in their first show thrive, | |
| | These four will change habits, and present the other five. |
| BIRON | There is five in the first show. | |
| FERDINAND | You are deceived; 'tis not so. | |
| BIRON | The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool | 541 |
| | and the boy:-- | |
| | Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again |
| | Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein. | |
| FERDINAND | The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. | |
| | Enter COSTARD, for Pompey. | |
| COSTARD | I Pompey am,-- | |
| BOYET | You lie, you are not he. | |
| COSTARD | I Pompey am,-- |
| BOYET | With libbard's head on knee. | |
| BIRON | Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends | |
| | with thee. | |
| COSTARD | I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big-- | |
| DUMAIN | The Great. |
| COSTARD | It is, 'Great,' sir:-- | |
| | Pompey surnamed the Great; | 550 |
| | That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make | |
| | my foe to sweat: | |
| | And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance, |
| | And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France, | |
| | If your ladyship would say, 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done. | |
| PRINCESS | Great thanks, great Pompey. | |
| COSTARD | 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I | |
| | made a little fault in 'Great.' |
| BIRON | My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy. | |
| | Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for Alexander. | |
| SIR NATHANIEL | When in the world I lived, I was the world's | |
| | commander; | |
| | By east, west, north, and south, I spread my | |
| | conquering might: |
| | My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,-- | |
| BOYET | Your nose says, no, you are not for it stands too right. | |
| BIRON | Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight. | |
| PRINCESS | The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander. | |
| SIR NATHANIEL | When in the world I lived, I was the world's |
| | commander,-- | |
| BOYET | Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. | |
| BIRON | Pompey the Great,-- | |
| COSTARD | Your servant, and Costard. | 569 |
| BIRON | Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. |
| COSTARD | [ To SIR NATHANIEL. ] | |
| | Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of | |
| | the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds | |
| | his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given | |
| | to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, | |
| | and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. |
| | [ SIR NATHANIEL retires. ] | |
| | There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an | |
| | honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a | |
| | marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good | |
| | bowler: but, for Alisander,--alas, you see how | |
| | 'tis,--a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies |
| | a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort. | 581 |
| PRINCESS | Stand aside, good Pompey. |
| | Enter HOLOFERNES, for Judas; and MOTH, for Hercules. | |
| HOLOFERNES | Great Hercules is presented by this imp, | |
| | Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canis; | |
| | And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, | |
| | Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. |
| | Quoniam he seemeth in minority, | |
| | Ergo I come with this apology. | |
| | Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. | |
| | MOTH retires. | |
| | Judas I am,-- | |
| DUMAIN | A Judas! |
| HOLOFERNES | Not Iscariot, sir. | |
| | Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus. | |
| DUMAIN | Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas. | |
| BIRON | A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas? | |
| HOLOFERNES | Judas I am,-- |
| DUMAIN | The more shame for you, Judas. | |
| HOLOFERNES | What mean you, sir? | |
| BOYET | To make Judas hang himself. | |
| HOLOFERNES | Begin, sir; you are my elder. | 600 |
| BIRON | Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder. |
| HOLOFERNES | I will not be put out of countenance. | |
| BIRON | Because thou hast no face. | |
| HOLOFERNES | What is this? | |
| BOYET | A cittern-head. | |
| DUMAIN | The head of a bodkin. |
| BIRON | A Death's face in a ring. | |
| LONGAVILLE | The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. | |
| BOYET | The pommel of Caesar's falchion. | |
| DUMAIN | The carved-bone face on a flask. | |
| BIRON | Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. | 611 |
| DUMAIN | Ay, and in a brooch of lead. | |
| BIRON | Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. | |
| | And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance. | |
| HOLOFERNES | You have put me out of countenance. | |
| BIRON | False; we have given thee faces. |
| HOLOFERNES | But you have out-faced them all. | |
| BIRON | An thou wert a lion, we would do so. | |
| BOYET | Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. | |
| | And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? | 620 |
| DUMAIN | For the latter end of his name. |
| BIRON | For the ass to the Jude; give it him:--Jud-as, away! | |
| HOLOFERNES | This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. | |
| BOYET | A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble. | |
| | HOLOFERNES retires. | |
| PRINCESS | Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited! | |
| | Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, for Hector. | |
| BIRON | Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms. |
| DUMAIN | Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. | |
| FERDINAND | Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this. | 630 |
| BOYET | But is this Hector? | |
| FERDINAND | I think Hector was not so clean-timbered. | |
| LONGAVILLE | His leg is too big for Hector's. |
| DUMAIN | More calf, certain. | |
| BOYET | No; he is best endued in the small. | |
| BIRON | This cannot be Hector. | |
| DUMAIN | He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. | |
| ARMADO | The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, |
| | Gave Hector a gift,-- | |
| DUMAIN | A gilt nutmeg. | 640 |
| BIRON | A lemon. | |
| LONGAVILLE | Stuck with cloves. | |
| DUMAIN | No, cloven. |
| ARMADO | Peace!-- | |
| | The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty | |
| | Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; | |
| | A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea | |
| | From morn till night, out of his pavilion. |
| | I am that flower,-- | |
| DUMAIN | That mint. | |
| LONGAVILLE | That columbine. | |
| ARMADO | Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. | 650 |
| LONGAVILLE | I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector. |
| DUMAIN | Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. | |
| ARMADO | 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 will forward with my device. | |
| | [ To the PRINCESS. ] | |
| | Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. |
| PRINCESS | Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. | |
| ARMADO | I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. | |
| BOYET | [ Aside to DUMAIN. ] | |
| DUMAIN | [ Aside to BOYET. ] | |
| ARMADO | This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,-- | |
| COSTARD | The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she | |
| | is two months on her way. |
| ARMADO | What meanest thou? | |
| COSTARD | Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor | |
| | wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in | |
| | her belly already: tis yours. | |
| ARMADO | Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt | 669 |
| | die. | |
| COSTARD | Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is | |
| | quick by him and hanged for Pompey that is dead by | |
| | him. | |
| DUMAIN | Most rare Pompey! |
| BOYET | Renowned Pompey! | |
| BIRON | Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! | |
| | Pompey the Huge! | |
| DUMAIN | Hector trembles. | |
| BIRON | Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them |
| | on! stir them on! | |
| DUMAIN | Hector will challenge him. | 680 |
| BIRON | Ay, if a' have no man's blood in's belly than will | |
| | sup a flea. | |
| ARMADO | By the north pole, I do challenge thee. |
| COSTARD | I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: | |
| | I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword. I bepray you, | |
| | let me borrow my arms again. | |
| DUMAIN | Room for the incensed Worthies! | |
| COSTARD | I'll do it in my shirt. | 688 |
| DUMAIN | Most resolute Pompey! | |
| MOTH | Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you | |
| | not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean | |
| | you? You will lose your reputation. | |
| ARMADO | Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat |
| | in my shirt. | |
| DUMAIN | You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge. | |
| ARMADO | Sweet bloods, I both may and will. | |
| BIRON | What reason have you for't? | |
| ARMADO | The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go |
| | woolward for penance. | 700 |
| BOYET | True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of | |
| | linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but | |
| | a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next | |
| | his heart for a favour. |
| | Enter MERCADE. | |
| MERCADE | God save you, madam! | |
| PRINCESS | Welcome, Mercade; | |
| | But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. | |
| MERCADE | I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring | |
| | Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father-- |
| PRINCESS | Dead, for my life! | 710 |
| MERCADE | Even so; my tale is told. | |
| BIRON | Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud. | |
| ARMADO | For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have | |
| | seen the day of wrong through the little hole of |
| | discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. | |
| | Exeunt Worthies. | |
| FERDINAND | How fares your majesty? | |
| PRINCESS | Boyet, prepare; I will away tonight. | |
| FERDINAND | Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. | |
| PRINCESS | Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, |
| | For all your fair endeavors; and entreat, | 720 |
| | Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe | |
| | In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide | |
| | The liberal opposition of our spirits, | |
| | If over-boldly we have borne ourselves |
| | In the converse of breath: your gentleness | |
| | Was guilty of it. Farewell worthy lord! | |
| | A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: | |
| | Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks | |
| | For my great suit so easily obtain'd. |
| FERDINAND | The extreme parts of time extremely forms | 730 |
| | All causes to the purpose of his speed, | |
| | And often at his very loose decides | |
| | That which long process could 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 love's argument was first on foot, | |
| | Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it | |
| | From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost |
| | Is not by much so wholesome-profitable | 740 |
| | As to rejoice at friends but newly found. | |
| PRINCESS | I understand you not: my griefs are double. | |
| BIRON | Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; | |
| | And by these badges understand the king. |
| | For your fair sakes have we neglected time, | |
| | Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies, | |
| | Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours | |
| | Even to the opposed end of our intents: | |
| | And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-- | 750 |
| | As love is full of unbefitting strains, | |
| | All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, | |
| | Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, | |
| | Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, | |
| | Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll |
| | To every varied object in his glance: | |
| | Which parti-coated presence of loose love | |
| | Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, | |
| | Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, | |
| | Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, |
| | Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, | 760 |
| | Our love being yours, the error that love makes | |
| | Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false, | |
| | By being once false for ever to be true | |
| | To those that make us both,--fair ladies, you: |
| | And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, | |
| | Thus purifies itself and turns to grace. | |
| PRINCESS | We have received your letters full of love; | |
| | Your favours, the ambassadors of love; | |
| | And, in our maiden council, rated them |
| | At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy, | 770 |
| | As bombast and as lining to the time: | |
| | But more devout than this in our respects | |
| | Have we not been; and therefore met your loves | |
| | In their own fashion, like a merriment. |
| DUMAIN | Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. | |
| LONGAVILLE | So did our looks. | |
| ROSALINE | We did not quote them so. | |
| FERDINAND | Now, at the latest minute of the hour, | |
| | Grant us your loves. |
| PRINCESS | A time, methinks, too short | |
| | To make a world-without-end bargain in. | |
| | No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much, | |
| | Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this: | |
| | If for my love, as there is no such cause, | 815 |
| | You will do aught, this shall you do for me: | |
| | Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed | |
| | To some forlorn and naked hermitage, | |
| | Remote from all the pleasures of the world; | |
| | There stay until the twelve celestial signs |
| | Have brought about the annual reckoning. | |
| | If this austere insociable life | |
| | Change not your offer made in heat of blood; | 790 |
| | If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds | |
| | Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, |
| | But that it bear this trial and last love; | |
| | Then, at the expiration of the year, | |
| | Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, | |
| | And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine | |
| | I will be thine; and till that instant shut |
| | My woeful self up in a mourning house, | |
| | Raining the tears of lamentation | |
| | For the remembrance of my father's death. | 800 |
| | If this thou do deny, let our hands part, | |
| | Neither entitled in the other's heart. |
| FERDINAND | If this, or more than this, I would deny, | |
| | To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, | |
| | The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! | |
| | Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. | |
| BIRON | And what to me, my love? and what to me?
|
| ROSALINE | You must be purged too, your sins are rank, | |
| | You are attaint with faults and perjury: | |
| | Therefore if you my favour mean to get, | |
| | A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, | |
| | But seek the weary beds of people sick. | |
| DUMAIN | But what to me, my love? but what to me? A wife? |
| KATHARINE | A beard, fair health, and honesty; | |
| | With three-fold love I wish you all these three. | |
| DUMAIN | O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? | |
| KATHARINE | Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day | |
| | I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say: |
| | Come when the king doth to my lady come; | |
| | Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. | 820 |
| DUMAIN | I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. | |
| KATHARINE | Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again. | |
| LONGAVILLE | What says Maria? |
| MARIA | At the twelvemonth's end | |
| | I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. | |
| LONGAVILLE | I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. | |
| MARIA | The liker you; few taller are so young. | |
| BIRON | Studies my lady? mistress, look on me; |
| | Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, | |
| | What humble suit attends thy answer there: | |
| | Impose some service on me for thy love. | 830 |
| ROSALINE | Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron, | |
| | Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue |
| | Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, | |
| | Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, | |
| | Which you on all estates will execute | |
| | That lie within the mercy of your wit. | |
| | To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, |
| | And therewithal to win me, if you please, | |
| | Without the which I am not to be won, | |
| | You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day | 840 |
| | Visit the speechless sick and still converse | |
| | With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, |
| | With all the fierce endeavor of your wit | |
| | To enforce the pained impotent to smile. | |
| BIRON | To move wild laughter in the throat of death? | |
| | It cannot be; it is impossible: | |
| | Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. |
| ROSALINE | Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, | |
| | Whose influence is begot of that loose grace | |
| | Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: | |
| | A jest's prosperity lies in the ear | |
| | Of him that hears it, never in the tongue |
| | Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, | |
| | Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, | |
| | Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, | |
| | And I will have you and that fault withal; | |
| | But if they will not, throw away that spirit, |
| | And I shall find you empty of that fault, | |
| | Right joyful of your reformation. | |
| BIRON | A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall, | 860 |
| | I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. | |
| PRINCESS | To FERDINAND | |
| FERDINAND | No, madam; we will bring you on your way. |
| BIRON | Our wooing doth not end like an old play; | |
| | Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy | |
| | Might well have made our sport a comedy. | |
| FERDINAND | Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, | |
| | And then 'twill end. |
| BIRON | That's too long for a play. | |
| | Re-enter ARMADO. | |
| ARMADO | Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,-- | |
| PRINCESS | Was not that Hector? | 870 |
| DUMAIN | The worthy knight of Troy. | |
| ARMADO | I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am |
| | a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the | |
| | plough for her sweet love three years. But, most | |
| | esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that | |
| | the two learned men have compiled in praise of the | |
| | owl and the cuckoo? It should have followed in the |
| | end of our show. | |
| FERDINAND | Call them forth quickly; we will do so. | |
| ARMADO | Holla! approach. | |
| | Re-enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others. | |
| | This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring; | |
| | the one maintained by the owl, the other by the |
| | cuckoo. Ver, begin. | |
| | THE SONG. | |
| | | |
| | SPRING. | |
| | When daisies pied and violets blue | |
| | And lady-smocks all silver-white | 882 |
| | And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue | |
| | Do paint the meadows with delight, | |
| | The cuckoo then, on every tree, | |
| | Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; | |
| | Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, |
| | Unpleasing to a married ear! | |
| | When shepherds pipe on oaten straws | |
| | And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, | |
| | When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, | |
| | And maidens bleach their summer smocks |
| | The cuckoo then, on every tree, | |
| | Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; | |
| | Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, | |
| | Unpleasing to a married ear! | |
| | | 890 |
| | WINTER. | |
| | 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, |
| | When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, | |
| | Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; | |
| | Tu-who, a merry note, | |
| | While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. | |
| | When all aloud the wind doth blow |
| | And coughing drowns the parson's saw | 910 |
| | And birds sit brooding in the snow | |
| | And Marian's nose looks red and raw, | |
| | When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, | |
| | Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; |
| | Tu-who, a merry note, | |
| | While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. | |
| ARMADO | The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of | |
| | Apollo. You that way: we this way. | |
| | Exeunt. | |