Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Above the sense of sense; so sensible 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. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Birón hath plighted faith to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Mar. 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, Boyet. They will, they will, God knows; Prin. 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. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd 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. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land! [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? | 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 pedlar; and retails his wares At wakes, and wassels, 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: He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he That kiss'd away his hand 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 whale's 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, usher'd by BOYET; ROSALINE, Maria, Katharine, and Attendants. Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what wert thou, Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? VOW: Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. A world of torments though I should endure, Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. By light we lose light: your capacity Biron. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was is that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this? King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re- King. Upon mine honour, no! Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad? Rus. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale? Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. You King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for per- And lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear:- Can any face of brass hold longer out?- Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: 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, Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd In russet yeas and honest kersey noes: Biron. Yet I have a trick God Of the old rage:- bear with me, I am sick; rin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. Someair excuse. PrinThe fairest is confession. Were not here, but even now, disguis'd? Prin. nd were you well advis'd? King was, fair madam. Prin. hen you then were here, What diyou whisper in your lady's ear? What? will you have me, or your pearl again? That smiles his check in years; and knows the trick And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd; Biron. How much is it? Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, lam, as they say, but to parfect one man,c'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. care. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some [Exit Costard. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy 1 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; Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expence of thy Prin. Doth this man serve God? Biron. Why ask you? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's 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 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 Machabacus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, Biron. There is five in the first show. Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy: Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world again, Enter COSTARD arm'd, for Pompey. Cost. I Pompey am,―― Cost. I Pompey am, Boyet. With libbard's head on knee. Biron.Well said, old moeker; I must needs be friends with thee. Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,- 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 NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, Iwas 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- Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron.Take away the conqueror,take away Alisander. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, canus; And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.— Judas I am, ycleped Machabaeus. Dum. Judas Machabaeus clept, is plain Judas. Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hanged on an eder. Hol. What is this? Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarceseen. nance. Hol. You have put me out of countenanc. Biron. False; we have given thee faces. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him :-Jud-as, Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble. Prin. Alas, poor Machabacus, how hath he been Enter ARMADO arm'd, for Hector. in arms. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Dum. Ithink, Hector was not so clean timber'd. Long. His leg is too big for Hector. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best endued in the small. Biron. This cannot be Hector. Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Dum. A gilt nutmeg. Biron. Alemon. Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. Peace! The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; I Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea. - Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll flash; I'll do it by the sword:pray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies! Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. Dum. Must resolute Pompey! Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. 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 Mer. God save you, madam! But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. From morn till night, out of his pavilion. 1 am that flower, Dum. That mint. Long. 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 breath'd, he was a man-l -But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [To the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [Biron whispers Costard. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyėt. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,— 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! [Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty? King. The extreme parts of time extremely form And by these badges understand the king. Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pom- For your fair sakes have we neglected time, pey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, Biron. Pompey is mov'd. More Ates, more Ates; Even to the opposed end of our intents: Dum. Hector will challenge him. And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; To those, that make us both,--fair ladies, you: Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full oflove; Your favours, the embassadors of love; And, in our maiden council, rated them Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. Prin. A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in : Change not your offer, made in heat of blood; Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue groans, Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal, Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. King. No, madam: we will bring you on your way. King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, Biron. That's too long for a play. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,— Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I ama 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. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. |