I should have feared her, had she been a devil." Cry'd" Via! we will do't, come what will come :" Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd; Ros. Come on then: wear the favours most in sight. Kath. But in this changing what is your intent? Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs : They do it but in mockery, merriment; And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal, Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display'd, to talk, and greet. Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't? Prin. 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. Prin. 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 [The Ladies mask. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, in Russian habits, and masked; Mотн, Musicians, and Attendants. come. Moth. "All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!" [The Ladies turn their backs to him. Boyet. True: "out," indeed. Moth. "Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold' Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue. If they do speak our language, 'tis our will Boyet. What would you with the princess? Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inches Is in one mile? if they have measur'd many, The measure then of one is easily told. Boyet. If, to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell, How many inches do fill up one mile. Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. She hears herself. Ros. How many weary steps, Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you: Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. Ros. O, vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change. Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then! nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays. Not yet;;-no dance :—thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's changed. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays: vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice. Take hands ::-we will not dance. King. Why take we hands then? Ros. Only to part friends.Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure: be not nice. Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. King. Prize you yourselves? What buys your company? Ros. Your absence only. King. That can never be. Ros. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu. Twice to your visor, and half once to you! King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Ros. In private then. King. I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar: there are three. Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice) Metheglin, wort, and malmsey.-Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets. Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu. Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Biron. One word in secret. Prin. Let it not be sweet. Gall? bitter. Biron. Thou griev'st my gall. Dum. Mar. Fair lady, Take that for your fair lady. Dum. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And trow you, what he call'd me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. In their own shapes; for it can never be, Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. Please it you, As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. [They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kath. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman.—Is not veal a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady? Long. Let's part the word. No, a fair lord calf. No; I'll not be your half: Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the sense of sense, so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifterthings. Ros. Not one word more, my maids: break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! King. Farewell, mad wenches: you have simple wits. [Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music, and Attendants. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.— Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out, Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. Prin. O, poverty in wit, kill'd by pure flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night, Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumaine was at my service, and his sword: No point, quoth I: my servant straight was mute. Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt PRINCESS, Ros. KATH. and MARIA. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent: please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither? King. 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 peas, And utters it again when God doth please. He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; 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, 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 whales bone; And consciences, that will not die in debt, Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart That put Armado's page out of his part! Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants. Biron. See where he comes!—Behaviour, what wer thou, Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it, then. 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, Ay, in truth, my lord; Is of that nature, that to your huge store And I will wish thee never more to dance, Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend; Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song; Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical: these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. I do forswear them; and I here protest, By this white glove, (how white the hand, God Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd Yet I have a trick Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my What did you whisper in your lady's ear? eye, Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. 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. Ros. All the fool mine? Biron. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad? Ros. Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. look you pale?— Why 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; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. Prin. Peace! peace! forbear: Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. Prin. I will; and therefore keep it.-Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear? Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-sight, and did value me Above this world; adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover. Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word. King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath. Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give : I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.-— Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Cost. 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 pursent one man,-e'en one poor man- -Pompion the great, sir. Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies? Cost. 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. some care. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir: we will take [Exit CoSTARD. King. 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. King. I say, they shall not come. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now. That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents, Their form confounded makes most form in mirth; When great things labouring perish in their birth. Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers a paper to him. Prin. Doth this man serve God? Biron. Why ask you? Prin. A' speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit ARMADO. King. 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 Maccabeus. 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. King. You are deceived; 'tis not so. Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy: Cost. "I Pompey am,Boyet. You lie, you are not he. With libbard's head on knee. Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee. Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,—” Dum. The great. Cost. It is great, sir;-" Pompey surnam'd the great; 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. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. '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 armed, for Alexander. Nath. "When in the world I liv'd, 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 tendersmelling knight. Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd.-Proceed, good Alexander. Nath. "When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;" Boyet. Most true; 'tis right: you were so, Alisander. Biron. Pompey the great, Cost. Your servant, and Costard. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. Cost. O! sir, [TO NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror. You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his pollaxe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to Hol. "Great Hercules is presented by this imp, 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. [Exit Moтн. Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.— "Judas I am, yclep'd Maccabeus." Dum. Judas Maccabeus clipt is plain Judas. Biron. A kissing traitor.-How art thou prov'd Judas? Dum. The more shame for Hol. What mean you, sir? you, Judas. Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. Hol. Begin, sir: you are my elder. Arm. "The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. Peace! "The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea, I am that flower,-" Long. That mint. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector. Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. Arm. 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. Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. "This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,”— Cost. The party is gone: fellow Hector, she is gone; Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder. she is two months on her way. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. Biron. Because thou hast no face. Hol. What is this? Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Biron. A death's face in a ring. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. Biron. For the ass to the Jude? give it him:- Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Prin. Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been baited! Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. King, Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. King. I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd. Long. His leg is too big for Hector's. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. Biron. This cannot be Hector. Arm. What meanest thou? Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already: 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hang'd for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey! Boyet. Renowned Pompey ! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is moved.-More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if a' have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies! Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge. Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore |