Love's Labor's Lost (Folio 1, 1623)
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Loues Labour's lost
1
Actus primus.
¶
Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and
¶Dumane.
¶Ferdinand.
5LEt Fame, that all hunt after in their liues,
¶Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes,
¶And then grace vs in the disgrace of death:
¶when spight of cormorant deuouring Time,
¶Th'endeuour of this present breath may buy:
¶And make vs heyres of all eternitie.
¶Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are,
¶That warre against your owne affections,
¶And the huge Armie of the worlds desires.
¶Nauar shall be the wonder of the world.
¶Our Court shall be a little Achademe,
¶Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.
¶You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill,
20Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me:
¶That are recorded in this scedule heere.
¶That his owne hand may strike his honour downe,
¶If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do,
¶Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to.
¶The minde shall banquet, though the body pine,
30Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits,
¶Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits.
¶Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified,
35To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die,
¶So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne,
¶That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres.
¶As not to see a woman in that terme,
¶Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
¶And one day in a weeke to touch no foode:
¶And but one meale on euery day beside:
45The which I hope is not enrolled there.
¶And then to sleepe but three houres in the night,
¶And not be seene to winke of all the day.
¶When I was wont to thinke no harme all night,
¶And make a darke night too of halfe the day:
50Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
¶What is the end of study, let me know?
¶know.
65To know the thing I am forbid to know:
¶As thus, to study where I well may dine,
70Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath,
¶Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth.
¶Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know,
¶Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no.
¶And traine our intellects to vaine delight.
¶Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine,
¶As painefully to poare vpon a Booke,
80To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while
¶Light seeeking light, doth light of light beguile:
¶Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes.
85Studie me how to please the eye indeede,
¶By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,
¶And giue him light that it was blinded by.
¶Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne,
¶Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne,
¶Saue base authoritie from others Bookes.
¶These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights,
¶That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,
95Haue no more profit of their shining nights,
¶Then those that walke and wot not what they are.
¶Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:
¶And euery Godfather can giue a name.
¶weeding.
¶breeding.
105Dum. How followes that?
¶Ber. Fit in his place and time.
¶Ber. Something then in rime.
110That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.
¶Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?
¶So you to studie now it is too late,
¶That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate.
¶Then for that Angell knowledge you can say,
¶Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne,
¶And bide the pennance of each three yeares day.
125Giue me the paper, let me reade the same,
¶of my Court.
130Hath this bin proclaimed?
¶Lon. Foure dayes agoe.
¶On paine of loosing her tongue.
¶Who deuis'd this penaltie?
135Lon. Marry that did I.
¶Ber. Sweete Lord, and why?
¶Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie,
¶A dangerous law against gentilitie.
¶deuise.
¶A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie,
¶About surrender vp of Aquitaine:
¶To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father.
¶Therefore this Article is made in vaine,
¶Why, this was quite forgot.
¶While it doth study to haue what it would,
155It doth forget to doe the thing it should:
¶And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
¶For euery man with his affects is borne,
¶If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me,
¶So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
¶And he that breakes them in the least degree,
¶Stands in attainder of eternall shame.
¶Suggestions are to others as to me:
¶But is there no quicke recreation granted?
¶Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted
¶With a refined trauailer of Spaine,
175A man in all the worlds new fashion planted,
¶That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
¶One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue,
¶Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:
¶A man of complements whom right and wrong
180Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie.
¶This childe of fancie that Armado hight,
¶In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight:
¶From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate.
185How you delight my Lords, I know not I,
¶But I protest I loue to heare him lie,
¶A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight.
¶
Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.
¶in flesh and blood.
¶Ber. This is he.
¶Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you:
200Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more.
¶Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching
¶mee.
¶Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado.
205high words.
¶tience.
¶Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing.
210or to forbeare both.
¶The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
215Ber. In what manner?
¶her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the
¶Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme
220following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner
¶forme.
225fend the right.
¶Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention?
¶Ber. As we would heare an Oracle.
¶flesh.
230
Ferdinand.
¶string patrone:
235Ferd. So it is.
¶true: but so.
¶Ferd. Peace,
¶Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight.
240Ferd. No words,
¶
Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I
245tleman, betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the¶for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I¶meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the250place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and¶ted Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth, (
Clown. Mee?)Clow. Still mee?) which as I remember, hight Co-¶stard, (Clow. O me) sorted and consorted contrary to thy e-
¶Clo. With a Wench.
¶
Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female;
¶Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation.
¶
Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called)
270which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keeper her¶sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of¶deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie.¶Don Adriana de Armado._
¶that euer I heard.
¶to this?
280Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation?
¶of the marking of it.
¶taken with a Wench.
¶Damosell.
¶Virgin.
¶Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken
¶with a Maide.
¶fast a Weeke with Branne and water.
¶Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and
¶Porridge.
300My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer'd ore,
¶And goe we Lords to put in practice that,
¶Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat,
305Sirra, come on.
¶ken with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and
310sorrow.
Exit.
¶
Enter Armado and Moth his Page.
¶spirit growes melancholy?
¶deare impe.
¶my tender Iuuenall?
¶tough signeur.
¶Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall?
325thaton, appertaining to thy young daies, which we may
¶nominate tender.
¶your olde time, which we may name tough.
¶Brag. Pretty and apt.
¶or I apt, and my saying prettie?
¶Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous.
¶Boy. That an Eeele is quicke.
¶heat'st my bloud.
¶Boy. How many is one thrice told?
¶compleat man.
¶summe of deus-ace amounts to.
355Brag. It doth amount to one more then two.
¶Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how
360yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you.
¶Boy. To proue you a Cypher.
¶of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate
¶him to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I
370Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene
¶in loue?
¶Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men
375of good repute and carriage.
¶great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his
¶backe like a Porter: and he was in loue.
380I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee
¶in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons
¶loue my deare Moth?
¶Brag. Of what complexion?
385Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one
¶of the foure.
¶Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions?
¶Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to
¶vnder such colours.
¶Brag. Define, define, well educated infant.
400mee.
¶patheticall.
¶Her faults will nere be knowne:
405For blush-in cheekes by faults are bred,
¶And feares by pale white showne:
¶Then if she feare, or be to blame,
¶By this you shall not know,
410Which natiue she doth owe:
¶
A dangerous rime master against the reason of white
¶and redde.
¶Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the
¶Begger?
¶three ages since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or
¶if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the
¶tune.
¶Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in
¶well.
¶Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my
425Master.
¶Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench.
430
Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.
435the Day-woman. Fare you well.
Exit.
¶Maid. Man.
¶Maid. That's here by.
¶Brag. I will tell thee wonders.
¶Ma. With what face?
¶Brag. I loue thee.
¶Mai. Faire weather after you.
450thou be pardoned.
¶full stomacke.
¶Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for
455they are but lightly rewarded.
¶loose.
¶prison.
¶words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I
¶haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I
¶can be quiet.
Exit.
¶ia a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can
475miliar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but
¶cules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spa-
¶regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his
¶still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth.
¶whole volumes in folio.
Exit.
¶
Finis Actus Primus.
¶
Actus Secunda.
490
Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies,
¶ and three Lords.
¶To parlee with the sole inheritour
¶Of all perfections that a man may owe,
¶Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene.
500Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,
¶As Nature was in making Graces deare,
¶And prodigally gaue them all to you.
¶Queen. Good L. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,
¶Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye,
¶Then you much wiling to be counted wise,
¶Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame
¶Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow,
515No woman may approach his silent Court:
¶Before we enter his forbidden gates,
¶To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
¶Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
¶Importunes personall conference with his grace.
¶Who are the Votaries my louing Lords, that are vow-
¶fellowes with this vertuous Duke?
530Lor. Longauill is one.
¶Princ. Know you the man?
¶Betweene L. Perigort and the beautious heire
¶Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
535In Normandie saw I this Longauill,
¶Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes:
¶Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
¶Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will:
¶Who are the rest?
¶Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued.
¶For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
¶And much too little of that good I saw,
¶Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth.
¶Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
¶Within the limit of becomming mirth,
560I neuer spent an houres talke withall.
¶His eye begets occasion for his wit,
¶For euery obiect that the one doth catch,
¶The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest.
¶Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor)
565Deliuers in such apt and gracious words,
¶That aged eares play treuant at his tales,
¶And yonger hearings are quite rauished.
570That euery one her owne hath garnished,
¶Ma. Heere comes Boyet.
¶
Enter Boyet.
¶Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?
575Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach,
¶And he and his competitors in oath,
¶Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady
¶Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt,
¶He rather meanes to lodge you in the field,
580Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court,
¶To let you enter his vnpeopled house.
¶
Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.
¶Heere comes Nauar.
¶Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I
¶haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee
¶yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be
¶mine.
¶Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither.
¶Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will.
¶Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance.
600'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord,
¶And sinne to breake it:
¶But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold,
¶To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.
¶For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay.
¶Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
610Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
¶Ber. I know you did.
¶Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire.
¶Ber. What time a day?
620Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers.
¶Ber. Nay then will I be gone.
¶Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
625The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
¶Being but th'one halfe, of an intire summe,
¶But say that he, or we, as neither haue
¶Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid
¶One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
¶Although not valued to the moneys worth.
¶If then the King your father will restore
635We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
¶For here he doth demand to haue repaie,
¶An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands
640One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
¶To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.
¶Which we much rather had depart withall,
¶And haue the money by our father lent,
¶Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.
¶Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
650And wrong the reputation of your name,
¶Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid.
¶And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
655Or yeeld vp Aquitaine.
¶Boyet, you can produce acquittances
¶Of Charles his Father.
¶Where that and other specialties are bound,
665All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto:
¶Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand,
¶As honour, without breach of Honour may
¶Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell,
¶Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart.
¶La. Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,
¶I would be glad to see it.
680Boy. I would you heard it grone.
¶Boy. Sicke at the heart.
¶La. Ro. Alacke, let it bloud.
¶Boy. Would that doe it good?
¶Boy. Will you prick't with your eye.
¶La. Ro. No poynt, with my knife.
¶La. Ro. And yours from long liuing.
¶
Enter Dumane.
¶Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard.
¶Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge.
705Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
Exit. Long.
¶
Enter Beroune.
¶Ber. What's her name in the cap.
710Boy. Katherine by good hap.
¶Not a word with him, but a iest.
¶Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
¶Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord.
720La. Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:
¶And wherefore not Ships?
¶My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be.
¶Bo. Belonging to whom?
¶La. To my fortunes and me.
¶Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree.
730This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed
¶On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd.
¶Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected.
735Prin. With what?
¶Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected.
¶Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire,
¶To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
745To feele onely looking on fairest of faire:
¶Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye,
¶Who tendring their own worth from whence they were
(glast,
¶Did point out to buy them along as you past.
750His faces owne margent did coate such amazes,
¶That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes.
¶Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
¶I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,
¶By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie.
¶skilfully.
760Lad. Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news
¶of him.
¶ther is but grim.
¶Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches?
765La. 1. No.
¶Lad. 2. I, our way to be gone.
¶
Actus Tertius.
770
Enter Broggart and Boy.
¶
Song.
¶ring.
¶Boy. Concolinel.
¶Loue.
¶Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule?
¶at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour
¶your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your
¶hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting,
790and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away:
¶nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and
¶make them men of note: do you note men that most are
¶affected to these?
¶Brag. But O, but O.
¶and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie:
¶But haue you forgot your Loue?
805Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy.
¶proue.
¶Brag. What wilt thou proue?
¶cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your
¶heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her,
¶being out of heart that you cannot enioy her.
815Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing
¶at all.
¶letter.
¶for he is verie slow gated: but I goe.
¶Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a
¶mettall heauie, dull, and slow?
¶Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne?
¶He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:
¶I shoote thee at the Swaine.
835Boy. Thump then, and I flee.
¶Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place.
¶My Herald is return'd.
840
Enter Page and Clowne.
¶shin.
¶begin.
¶lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan.
¶thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes
¶uoy for a salue?
¶salue?
¶Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine.
¶Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with
¶my lenuoy.
¶
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
860
Were still at oddes, being but three.
¶Staying the oddes by adding foure.
¶desire more?
¶Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat.
¶Ar. Come hither, come hither:
870How did this argument begin?
¶Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy.
¶Clow. True, and I for a Plantan:
¶Thus came your argument in:
875Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought,
¶And he ended the market.
¶a shin?
¶I will speake that Lenuoy.
¶Arm. We will talke no more of this matter.
890bertie. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured,
¶restrained, captiuated, bound.
¶Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation,
¶and let me loose.
895and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
¶Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta:
¶there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours
¶is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.
900Signeur Costard adew.
Exit.
¶Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration.
¶Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-far-
¶things: Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price
905of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why?
¶It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then
¶a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this
¶word.
¶
Enter Berowne.
¶may a man buy for a remuneration?
¶Ber. What is a remuneration?
915Ber. O, Why then three farthings worth of Silke.
¶As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue,
¶Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate.
¶Ber. O this after-noone.
¶Harke slaue, it is but this:
930And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie:
¶And to her white hand see thou do commend
¶don. I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration.
¶
Exit.
940I that haue beene loues whip?
¶A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke,
¶Nay, a night-watch Constable.
¶A domineering pedant ore the Boy,
¶Then whom no mortall so magnificent,
945This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy,
¶This signior Iunios gyant drawfe, don Cupid,
¶Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes,
¶Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents:
950Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces.
¶Sole Emperator and great generall
¶Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)
¶And I to be a Corporall of his field,
¶And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope.
¶A woman that is like a Germane Cloake,
¶Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
¶And neuer going a right, being a Watch:
¶But being watcht, that it may still goe right.
960Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all:
¶And among three, to loue the worst of all,
¶A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.
¶With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes.
¶I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede,
965Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde.
¶And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
¶To pray for her, go to: it is a plague
¶That Cupid will impose for my neglect,
¶Of his almighty dreadfull little might.
¶
Actus Quartus.
¶
Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and
¶
her Lords.
¶Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he.
980On Saterday we will returne to France.
¶For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,
¶O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe.
990For. Yes Madam faire.
¶Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,
¶Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
¶Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due.
995For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit.
¶But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill,
1000And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
¶Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't:
¶Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes,
¶We bend to that, the working of the hart.
1010The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill.
¶Lords ore their Lords?
1015To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
¶
Enter Clowne.
¶Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth.
¶Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head
¶Lady?
¶no heads.
¶Are not you the chiefe womã? You are the thickest here?
1030To one Lady Rosaline.
¶Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.
¶Stand a side good bearer.
¶Boyet, you can carue,
¶Breake vp this Capon.
¶This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here:
¶It is writ to Iaquenetta.
¶Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare.
1040
Boyet reades.
¶
By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true
¶that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art¶louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious,¶ni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O1050uercame: hee came one; see, two; ouercame three:¶Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why
¶did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the¶Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame¶side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am1060thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could.¶change for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe¶mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on¶thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy1065euerie part.¶Thine in the dearest designe of industrie,¶Don Adriana de Armatho.
¶Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare,
¶And he from forrage will incline to play.
¶
But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then?
¶Foode for his rage, repasture for his den.
¶Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this
1075Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you
¶euer heare better?
¶Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court
¶To the Prince and his Booke-mates.
¶Qu. Thou fellow, a word.
¶Who gaue thee this Letter?
¶Clow. I told you, my Lord.
¶Clo. From my Lord to my Lady.
¶Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?
¶To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
¶Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.
¶
Exeunt.
¶Rosa. Shall I teach you to know.
1095Boy. I my continent of beautie.
¶Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
¶Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie.
¶Finely put on.
¶Boy. And who is your Deare?
¶neare. Finely put on indeede.
1105strikes at the brow.
¶Haue I hit her now.
¶was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as
1110touching the hit it.
¶was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a
¶little wench, as touching the hit it.
1115Thou canst not hit it my good man.
¶Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:
¶And I cannot, another can.
Exit.
1120did hit.
¶my Lady.
¶Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be.
¶Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out.
¶the clout.
¶Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
¶is in.
1130is in.
¶foule.
¶to boule.
1135Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
¶Oule.
¶Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.
¶so fit.
¶To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.
1145sweare:
¶And his Page at other side, that handfull of wit,
¶Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
¶Sowla, sowla.
Exeunt.
¶
Shoote within.
1150
Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.
¶mony of a good conscience.
¶ripe as a Pomwater, who now hangeth like a Iewell in
¶non falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the
¶land, the earth.
¶Curat. Nath. Truely M. Holofernes, the epythithes are
1160ye, it was a Bucke of the first head.
¶Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
¶Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket.
¶nuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as
¶ted, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or rathe-
¶for a Deare.
¶Pricket.
¶Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are
1175bred in a booke.
¶He hath not eate paper as it were:
¶He hath not drunke inke.
¶His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall,
¶vs more then he.
¶For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or
¶a foole;
¶Schoole.
¶But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde,
¶Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde.
¶Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your
1190wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue
¶weekes old as yet?
¶Dull.
¶Dul. What is dictima?
1195Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone.
¶Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was
¶no more.
¶Th'allusion holds in the Exchange.
¶Exchange.
¶in the Exchange.
¶Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall
¶Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour
1210Pricket.
¶facilitie.
¶_The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,
1220_then Sorell iumps from thicket:
¶_the people fall a hooting.
¶_by adding but one more L.
¶Nath. A rare talent.
¶Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him
¶with a talent.
¶are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the
¶wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing
¶acute, and I am thankfull for it.
¶parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you,
¶and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you
1240are a good member of the common-wealth.
¶Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingennous, they
¶I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a
1245
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.
¶be perst, Which is the one?
1250hogshead.
¶ceit in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle
¶enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well.
¶from Don Armatho: I beseech you reade it.
¶bra ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I
1260chie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Man-
¶tuan, old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re
¶mine.
¶Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed.
¶bowed.
¶Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
¶hend.
¶Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee cõmend.
¶Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
1280thunder.
¶Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
¶Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
¶for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the
1290ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the
¶his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to
¶you?
1295strange Queenes Lords.
¶I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for
1300ten vnto.
¶Per. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries
¶quent of the stranger Queenes: which accidentally, or
¶goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the
¶King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I
¶forgiue thy duetie, adue.
1310Sir God saue your life.
¶Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very
¶you sir Nathaniel?
¶Nath. Marueilous well for the pen.
1320gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I
¶haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill,
¶vndertake your bien vonuto, where I will proue those
1325cietie.
1330verba.
¶Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
¶recreation.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.
¶Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare,
¶They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch,
¶pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee
¶I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this
1340Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a
¶if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by
¶this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for
¶her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye,
1345and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath
¶taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is
¶part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she
¶hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the
¶a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a
¶paper, God giue him grace to grone.
¶Kin. Ay mee!
¶thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
¶secrets.
¶The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
¶As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
¶No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
¶So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
¶Do but behold the teares that swell in me,
¶And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
1370But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
¶O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell,
¶No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
1375Sweet leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
¶What Longauill, and reading: listen eare.
1380Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers.
¶Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name.
¶Disfigure not his Shop.
¶
Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
¶'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
¶A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
¶My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.
1400Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
¶Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
¶Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
¶If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
¶God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th'way.
1410
Enter Dumaine.
¶Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
¶And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
1415More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
¶Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye.
¶Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted.
¶Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted.
¶Dum. As vpright as the Cedar.
1425Dum. As faire as day.
¶Lon. And I had mine.
¶Kin. And mine too good Lord.
¶Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be.
1435Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ.
¶Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.
¶
Dumane reades his Sonnet.
¶
On a day, alack the day:
¶Loue, whose Month is euery May,
¶Playing in the wanton ayre:
¶Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,
¶That the Louer sicke to death,
¶Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,
¶Ayre, would I might triumph so.
¶But alacke my hand is sworne,
¶Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
1450Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
¶Doe not call it sinne in me,
¶That I am forsworne for thee.
¶Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
1455Iuno but an Aethiop were,
¶And denie himselfe for Ioue.
¶Turning mortall for thy Loue.
1460O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,
¶Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
¶Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note:
¶For none offend, where all alike doe dote.
¶Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,
¶To be ore-heard, and taken napping so.
¶You chide at him, offending twice as much.
1470You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
¶Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;
¶Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart
¶His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart.
1475And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
¶Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries!
¶On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes.
1480You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth,
¶And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath.
1485How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
¶For all the wealth that euer I did see,
¶I would not haue him know so much by me.
¶Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
1490Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
¶Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
¶You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
¶But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
¶All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
¶You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
¶But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
1500O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
¶To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
1505And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?
¶And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes.
¶Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine;
¶And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine?
1510And where my Liedges? all about the brest:
¶A Candle hoa!
¶Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
¶Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.
¶To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
¶I am betrayed by keeping company
¶With men, like men of inconstancie.
1520Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time,
¶a waste, a legge, a limme.
1525A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so.
¶
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
¶Kin. If it marre nothing neither,
¶The treason and you goe in peace away together.
¶Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
¶Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not
¶feare it.
¶heare it.
¶Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name.
¶to doe me shame.
¶Kin. What?
¶Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
¶He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
¶Dum. Now the number is euen.
¶be gone?
¶As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,
¶The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face:
1565Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.
¶thine?
¶That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.)
1575What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye
¶Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,
¶That is not blinded by her maiestie?
¶My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
¶Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
¶O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
¶Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty,
¶Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
1585Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity,
¶Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,
¶Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not,
¶A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne,
¶Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
¶Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
¶And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
1595O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine.
¶King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie.
¶Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?
¶A wife of such wood were felicitie.
¶O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
1600That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
¶If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
¶No face is faire that is not full so blacke.
¶Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
¶The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
1605And beauties crest becomes the heauens well.
¶O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
¶It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
1610And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
¶Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
¶For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
¶Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow.
¶Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light.
¶Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day.
¶Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here.
¶Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
¶Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
¶Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue
¶Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne.
¶Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell.
¶Ber. O 'tis more then neede.
1640Haue at you then affections men at armes,
1645And abstinence ingenders maladies.
¶And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords)
¶In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
¶Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.
¶For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
1650Haue found the ground of studies excellence,
¶Without the beauty of a womans face;
¶From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
¶They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
¶From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
¶The nimble spirits in the arteries,
¶As motion and long during action tyres
¶The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.
¶Now for not looking on a womans face,
¶For where is any Author in the world,
¶Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:
¶Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
1665And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
¶With our selues.
¶O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords,
1670And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
¶For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?
¶In leaden contemplation haue found out
¶Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
¶Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:
1675Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine:
¶And therefore finding barraine practizers,
¶But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,
¶Liues not alone emured in the braine:
1680But with the motion of all elements,
¶And giues to euery power a double power,
¶Aboue their functions and their offices.
¶It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
1685A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
¶Then are the tender hornes of Cockled Snayles.
¶For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
¶Still climing trees in the Hesporides.
¶As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
1695And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
¶Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
¶Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
¶Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
1700And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
¶From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
¶They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
1705Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
¶Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
¶Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.
¶Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.
¶It is religion to be thus forsworne.
1715For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:
¶And who can seuer loue from Charity.
¶Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field.
¶Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd,
1720In conflict that you get the Sunne of them.
¶Some entertainment for them in their Tents.
¶Then homeward euery man attach the hand
1730For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,
¶Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres.
¶That will be time, and may by vs be fitted.
¶Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne,
Exeunt.
¶
Actus Quartus.
¶
Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.
¶rillity, witty without affection, audacious without im-
¶pudency, learned without opinion, and strange without
¶nion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called,
¶Don Adriano de Armatho.
¶Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty,
¶our vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked,
¶grinat, as I may call it.
1755
Draw out his Table-booke.
¶pronounce debt; d e b t, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe:
¶halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated
¶ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhomi-
¶nable it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to
1765make franticke, lunaticke?
¶Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo.
¶serue.
¶
Enter Bragart, Boy.
1770Curat. Vides ne quis venit?
¶Peda. Video, & gaudio.
¶Brag. Chirra.
¶Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
¶Brag. Men of peace well incountred.
¶words. I maruell thy M. hath not eaten thee for a word,
¶gon.
¶Page. Peace, the peale begins.
1785Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke:
¶What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
¶Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added.
¶his learning.
¶or the fift if I.
¶Peda. I will repeat them: a e I.
¶Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u.
¶home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit.
¶Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
¶wit-old.
1800Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?
¶Page. Hornes.
¶Gigge.
¶Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
1805whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuck-
¶olds horne.
¶Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou
¶very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny
¶What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to,
¶the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-
¶house on the top of the Mountaine?
¶Peda. Or Mons the hill.
¶the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call
¶the after-noone.
¶ble, congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the
¶his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my
¶a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that
1845tion, or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke:
¶myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to
¶thies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment
¶Worthies.
¶Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to
¶present them?
1860tleman Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his
¶Page Hercules.
¶for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of
1865his Club.
¶Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose.
¶cious, though few haue the grace to doe it.
1875Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman.
¶Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?
¶Peda. We attend.
¶Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I
¶beseech you follow.
¶all this while.
¶Ped. Alone, we will employ thee.
1885on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey.
¶
Enter Ladies.
¶If fairings come thus plentifully in.
1890A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I
¶haue from the louing King.
¶Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
¶As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper
1895Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all,
¶That he was faine to seale on Cupids name.
¶Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax:
¶For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy.
¶word?
¶Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke.
¶Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out.
1910Therefore Ile darkely end the argument.
¶Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench.
¶Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light.
¶Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me.
¶But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too?
¶Who sent it? and what is it?
¶Ros. I would you knew.
1920And if my face were but as faire as yours,
¶Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne,
¶The numbers true, and were the numbring too,
1925I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
¶O he hath drawne my picture in his letter.
¶Qu. Any thing like?
1930Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke.
¶My red Dominicall, my golden letter.
¶O that your face were full of Oes.
1935But Katherine, what was sent to you
¶From faire Dumaine?
¶Kat. Madame, this Gloue.
¶Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
¶Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie.
¶The Letter is too long by halfe a mile.
¶The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short.
1950That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe.
¶O that I knew he were but in by th'weeke,
¶How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
¶And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes.
¶And make him proud to make me proud that iests.
¶That he shold be my foole, and I his fate.
1960As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd:
¶Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
¶And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?
¶As grauities reuolt to wantons be.
¶As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
¶Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
¶To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
¶
Enter Boyet.
1970Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face.
¶Qu. Thy newes Boyet?
¶Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.
¶Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
¶Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd.
¶Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence.
¶Qu. Saint Dennis to S. Cupid: What are they,
¶When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
1985The King and his companions: warely
¶I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
¶And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare:
¶That by and by disguis'd they will be heere.
¶Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page:
¶Action and accent did they teach him there.
¶And euer and anon they made a doubt,
¶The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:
¶With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder,
2000Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder.
¶One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
¶Another with his finger and his thumb,
¶Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come.
2005The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well.
¶The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell:
¶With that they all did tumble on the ground,
¶That in this spleene ridiculous appeares,
¶Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
¶Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance,
2015And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance,
¶For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt,
2020And not a man of them shall haue the grace
¶And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
¶Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine,
¶Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues.
¶Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?
¶They doe it but in mocking merriment,
¶And mocke for mocke is onely my intent.
2035Vpon the next occasion that we meete,
¶Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot,
¶Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace:
2040But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face.
¶Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart,
¶And quite diuorce his memory from his part.
¶Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt,
¶The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
¶To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.
¶And they well mockt, depart away with shame.
Sound.
2050come.
¶
Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech,
¶Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata.
¶their backes to mortall viewes.
¶
The Ladies turne their backes to him.
¶Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes.
¶Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes.
2060Out
¶Boy. True, out indeed.
¶Not to beholde.
¶Ber. Once to behold, rogue.
2065Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes,
¶With your Sunne beamed eyes.
¶You were best call it Daughter beamed eyes.
¶Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out.
¶Know their mindes Boyet.
¶If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will
2075Know what they would?
¶Boyet. What would you with the Princes?
¶Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie,
¶How many inches doth fill vp one mile?
2095Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone,
¶Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?
¶That we may doe it still without accompt.
¶Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too.
2105(Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne.
¶Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter,
¶Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone.
¶stranged?
2115changed?
¶it: Our eares vouchsafe it.
¶Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance.
¶Kin. Why take you hands then?
¶Rosa. Onelie to part friends.
¶Kin. That can neuer be.
¶Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you.
¶Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat.
¶Ros. In priuate then.
¶Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three.
¶Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
¶There's halfe a dozen sweets.
¶Ile play no more with you.
2145Qu. Gall, bitter.
¶Ber. Therefore meete.
¶Mar. Name it.
¶Dum. Faire Ladie:
¶Take you that for your faire Lady.
¶As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu.
¶Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?
¶Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a
2160Calfe?
¶Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?
¶Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe.
¶Long. Let's part the word.
¶Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
2165Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe.
¶mockes.
¶Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow.
2170Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die.
¶Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
¶As is the Razors edge, inuisible:
¶Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
¶Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things
¶Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off,
¶breake off.
¶wits.
Exeunt.
¶puft out.
¶Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.
¶Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night?
2190Or euer but in vizards shew their faces:
¶This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite.
¶The King was vveeping ripe for a good word.
¶And trow you vvhat he call'd me?
¶Qu. Qualme perhaps.
2200Kat. Yes in good faith.
¶Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me.
¶Immediately they will againe be heere
¶In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be,
¶Qu. Will they returne?
¶Boy. They will they will, God knowes,
¶And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes:
¶Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire,
¶stood.
2220Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne.
¶If they returne in their owne shapes to wo?
¶Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd,
¶And wonder what they were, and to what end
¶And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
2230Should be presented at our Tent to vs.
¶Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
¶Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.
¶
Exeunt.
¶
Enter the King and the rest.
¶Boy. Gone to her Tent.
¶And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please.
¶He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,
¶This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue.
¶Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue.
¶He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he,
2250This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice,
¶That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice
¶In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing
¶Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete.
¶This is the flower that smiles on euerie one,
¶To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
¶And consciences that wil not die in debt,
¶Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet.
¶That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
¶
Enter the Ladies.
¶Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
¶Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
¶Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue.
2270To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.
¶Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men.
¶King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
¶The vertue of your eie must breake my oth.
¶For vertues office neuer breakes men troth.
¶Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure
¶A world of torments though I should endure,
¶So much I hate a breaking cause to be
¶Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie.
¶Qu. I in truth, my Lord.
¶My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)
¶We foure indeed confronted were with foure
¶And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord)
¶I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,
¶When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke.
¶By light we loose light; your capacitie
¶Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore,
¶Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie.
¶Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
¶It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
¶Ros. All the foole mine.
¶Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
¶Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?
2315Why demand you this?
¶They'l mocke vs now downeright.
¶Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes
¶sadde?
¶you pale?
¶Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:
¶And I will wish thee neuer more to dance,
2335Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.
¶Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,
¶Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue,
¶Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;
¶Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
¶By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
¶And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
¶Ber. Yet I haue a tricke
2350Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
¶Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
¶They are infected, in their hearts it lies:
¶They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
¶For the Lords tokens on you do I see.
¶Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you.
¶Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
¶Kin. Madam, I was.
¶Qu. And were you well aduis'd?
2370Kin. I was faire Madam.
¶Qu. When you then were heere,
¶What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
2375her.
¶King. Vpon mine Honor no.
¶Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:
¶your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare.
¶As precious eye-sight, and did value me
¶Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer,
2385That he vvould Wed me, or else die my Louer.
¶Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
¶Most honorably doth vphold his word.
¶King. What meane you Madame?
¶By my life, my troth
¶Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
¶you gaue me this: But take it sir againe.
¶I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue.
¶And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
¶What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
¶Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.
2400Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
¶That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick
¶Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
¶The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
¶Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
2410We are againe forsworne in will and error.
¶Much vpon this tis: and might not you
¶Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?
¶And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
¶Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
¶You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.
¶You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie
2420Wounds like a Leaden sword.
¶reere bene run.
¶
Enter Clowne.
2425Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray.
¶Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
¶Ber. What, are there but three?
2430For euerie one pursents three.
¶Ber. And three times thrice is nine.
2435Ber. Is not nine.
¶doth amount.
¶Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine.
2440liuing by reckning sir.
¶Ber. How much is it?
¶will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne
¶part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one
2445poore man) Pompion the great sir.
¶Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?
¶the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
¶the Worthie, but I am to stand for him.
¶care.
¶Let them not approach.
¶companie.
¶Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;
¶Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents
¶Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents:
¶Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,
¶When great things labouring perish in their birth.
¶
Enter Braggart.
¶royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words.
¶Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they
¶most royall cupplement.
¶He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey ye great,
¶the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules,
¶habites, and present the other fiue.
¶Foole, and the Boy,
¶Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
¶Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine.
2490
Enter Pompey.
¶Clo. I Pompey am.
¶Ber. You lie, you are not he.
¶Clo. I Pompey am.
¶Boy. With Libbards head on knee.
¶I must needs be friends with thee.
¶Du. The great.
2500That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,
¶ And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,
¶_France.
¶La. Great thankes great Pompey.
¶fect. I made a little fault in great.
¶Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the
2510best Worthie.
¶
Enter Curate for Alexander.
¶_mander:
2515My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander.
¶For it stands too right.
¶ling Knight.
¶Proceede good Alexander.
¶mander.
2525Ber. Pompey the great.
¶queror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for
¶thie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away
2535He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie
¶little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming,
Exit Cu.
2540
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
¶Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus,
¶And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,
¶Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus:
2545Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
¶Ergo, I come with this Apologie.
Exit Boy
¶Ped. Iudas I am.
¶Dum. A Iudas?
¶Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus.
¶Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.
¶Ped. Iudas I am.
¶Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder.
2560Ped. I will not be put out of countenance.
¶Ped. What is this?
¶Boi. A Citterne head.
¶Dum. The head of a bodkin.
2565Ber. A deaths face in a ring.
¶Ber. S. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch.
2570Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead.
¶Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.
¶And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
¶Ped. You haue put me out of countenance.
2575Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all.
¶Dum. For the latter end of his name.
¶way.
¶Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
¶may stumble.
2585Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene
¶baited.
¶
Enter Braggart.
¶Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
¶Armes.
2590Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
¶now be merrie.
¶Boi. But is this Hector?
2595Lon. His legge is too big for Hector.
¶Dum. More Calfe certaine.
¶Ber. This cannot be Hector.
¶Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.
2600Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
¶gaue Hector a gift.
¶Dum. A gilt Nutmegge.
¶Ber. A Lemmon.
¶Lon. Stucke with Cloues.
2605Dum. No clouen.
¶Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
¶Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion;
¶A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea
¶From morne till night, out of his Pauillion.
2610I am that Flower.
¶Dum. That Mint.
¶Long. That Cullambine.
¶Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue.
2615gainst Hector.
¶Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound.
¶Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:
¶But I will forward with my deuice;
¶
Berowne steppes forth.
¶Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted.
¶Boy. Loues her by the foot.
2625Dum. He may not by the yard.
¶
The partie is gone.
¶on her way.
¶in her belly alreadie: tis yours.
2635Thou shalt die.
¶is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
¶him.
2640Boi. Renowned Pompey.
¶Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
¶Pompey the huge.
¶Dum. Hector trembles.
2645them, or stirre them on.
¶Dum. Hector will challenge him.
¶Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then
¶will sup a Flea.
¶Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee.
2650Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man;
¶row my Armes againe.
¶meane you? you will lose your reputation.
¶Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will
2660not combat in my shirt.
¶Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the
¶challenge.
¶Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will.
¶I go woolward for penance.
¶Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want
¶a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his
2670heart for a fauour.
¶
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.
¶our merriment.
¶heauie in my tongue. The King your father
¶Qu. Dead for my life.
¶Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud.
2680Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I
¶haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of
¶
Exeunt Worthies
2685Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night.
¶For all your faire endeuours and entreats:
¶If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,
¶Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord:
2695A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
¶Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes
2700And often at his verie loose decides
¶And though the mourning brow of progenie
¶The holy suite which faine it would conuince,
¶As to reioyce at friends but newly found.
¶For your faire sakes haue we neglected time,
¶Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies
2715Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors
¶Euen to the opposed end of our intents.
¶And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:
¶As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,
¶All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
2720Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.
¶Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule,
¶To euerie varied obiect in his glance:
2725Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,
¶Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.
¶Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies
¶Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes
¶By being once false, for euer to be true
¶To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.
¶Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace.
2735Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue:
¶And in our maiden counsaile rated them,
¶As bumbast and as lining to the time:
¶Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues
¶In their owne fashion, like a merriment.
¶Lon. So did our lookes.
¶Grant vs your loues.
¶To make a world-without-end bargaine in;
2750No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much,
¶You will do ought, this shall you do for me.
2755To some forlorne and naked Hermitage,
¶Remote from all the pleasures of the world:
¶Haue brought about their annuall reckoning.
2760Change not your offer made in heate of blood:
¶But that it beare this triall, and last loue:
¶Then at the expiration of the yeare,
¶Raining the teares of lamentation,
2770For the remembrance of my Fathers death.
¶If this thou do denie, let our hands part,
¶Neither intitled in the others hart.
¶Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
¶Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest.
¶Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
¶You are attaint with faults and periurie:
2780Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,
¶Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?
¶Come when the King doth to my Ladie come:
2790Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some.
¶Mari. At the tweluemonths end,
2795Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend.
¶Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:
¶Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
¶Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue
¶Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,
2805Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes:
¶Which you on all estates will execute,
¶That lie within the mercie of your wit.
¶To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,
¶And therewithall to win me, if you please,
2810Without the which I am not to be won:
¶You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,
¶With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,
2815To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
¶Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?
¶Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie.
¶Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles:
¶Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue
¶Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares,
2825Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,
¶Will heare your idle scornes; continue then,
¶And I will haue you, and that fault withall.
¶But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
¶And I shal finde you emptie of that fault,
2830Right ioyfull of your reformation.
¶Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,
¶King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way.
2835Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:
¶Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie.
¶And then 'twil end.
2840Ber. That's too long for a play.
¶
Enter Braggart.
¶Qu. Was not that Hector?
¶Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy.
¶I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the
¶Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and
2850the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our
¶shew.
¶Brag. Holla, Approach.
¶
Enter all.
2855This side is Hiems, Winter.
¶This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,
¶Th'other by the Cuckow.
¶Ver, begin.
¶
The Song.
2860
When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
¶And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:
¶Do paint the Medowes with delight.
¶The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
2865Mockes married men, for thus sings he,
¶Cuckow.
¶Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
¶Vnpleasing to a married eare.
¶When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,
2870And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes:
¶When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,
¶The Cuckow then on euerie tree
¶Mockes married men; for thus sings he,
2875Cuckow.
¶Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
¶Vnpleasing to a married eare.
¶Winter.
¶
When Isicles hang by the wall,
2880And Dicke the Sphepheard blowes his naile;
¶And Tom beares Logges into the hall,
¶And Milke comes frozen home in paile:
¶When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,
2885Tu-whit to-who.
¶
A merrie note,
¶While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
¶
When all aloud the winde doth blow,
2895
A merrie note,
¶While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
¶Brag. The Words of Mercurie,
¶You that way; we this way.
2900
Exeunt omnes.
¶
FINIS.
