Love's Labor's Lost (Quarto 1, 1598)
Not Peer Reviewed
A PLEASANT
Conceited Comedie
CALLED Loues labors lost.
As it was presented before her Highnes
this last Christmas.
Newly corrected and augmented
By W. Shake{s}pere.
Imprinted at London by W.W.
for Cutbert Burby.1598.
¶
Enter Ferdinand K. of Nauar, Berovvne,
Longauill, and Dumaine.
¶
Ferdinand.
5LET Fame, that all hunt after in their lyues,
¶Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes,
¶And then grace vs, in the disgrace of death:
¶When spight of cormorant deuouring Time,
¶Thendeuour of this present breath may buy:
¶And make vs heires of all eternitie.
¶Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are,
¶That warre agaynst your owne affections,
¶And the hudge armie of the worldes desires.
¶Nauar shall be the wonder of the worlde.
¶Our Court shalbe a lytlle Achademe,
¶Still and contemplatyue in lyuing art.
¶You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill,
20Haue sworne for three yeeres tearme, to liue with me:
¶That are recorded in this sedule here.
¶That his owne hand may strike his honour downe,
¶If you are armd to do, as sworne to do,
¶Subscribe to your deepe othes, and keepe it to.
¶The minde shall banquet, though the body pine,
30Fat paunches haue leane pates: and daynty bits
¶Make rich the ribbes, but bancrout quite the wits.
¶Dumaine My louing Lord, Dumaine is mortefied,
35To loue, to wealth, to pome, I pine and die,
¶So much deare Liedge, I haue already sworne,
¶That is, to lyue 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 nyght,
¶And not be seene to wincke of all the day.
¶When I was wont to thinke no harme all nyght,
¶And make a darke nyght too of halfe the day:
50Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
¶What is the ende of study, let me 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 oth,
¶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 intelects to vaine delight.
¶Which with payne purchas'd, doth inherite payne,
¶As paynefully to poare vpon a Booke,
80To seeke the lyght of trueth, while trueth the whyle
¶Light seeking light, doth light of light beguyle:
¶So ere you finde where light in darknes lyes,
¶Your light growes darke by loosing of your eyes.
85Studie me how to please the eye in deede,
¶By fixing it vppon a fayrer eye,
¶And giue him light that it was blinded by.
¶Studie is lyke the heauens glorious Sunne,
¶Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne,
¶Saue base aucthoritie from others Bookes.
¶These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights,
¶That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,
95Haue no more profite of their shyning 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.
105Duma. How followes that?
¶Ber. Fit in his place and tyme.
¶Bero. Something then in rime.
110That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.
¶Why should I ioy in any abhortiue byrth?
¶So you to studie now it is too late,
¶Clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the little gate.
¶Then for that Angell knowledge you can say,
¶Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne,
¶And bide the pennance of each three yeeres day.
125Giue me the paper, let me reade the same,
¶_my Court. Hath this bin proclaymed?
¶Long. Foure dayes ago.
¶Who deuis'd this penaltie?
135Long. Marrie that did I.
¶Bero. Sweete Lord and why?
¶Long. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie.
¶A dangerous law against gentletie.
¶A Maide of grace and complet maiestie,
¶About surrender vp of Aquitaine,
¶To her decrepit, sicke, and bedred Father.
¶Therefore this Article is made in vaine,
¶While it doth studie to haue what it would,
155It doth forget to do the thing it should:
¶And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
¶For euery man with his affectes is borne,
¶So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
¶And he that breakes them in the least degree,
¶Standes in attainder of eternall shame.
¶Suggestions are to other as to me:
¶But is there no quicke recreation graunted?
¶Ferd. I that there is, our Court you know is haunted
¶With a refined trauailer of Spaine,
175A man in all the worldes new fashion planted,
¶That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
¶On who the musique of his owne vaine tongue
¶Doth rauish like inchannting harmonie:
¶A man of complements whom right and wrong
180Haue chose as vmpier of their mutenie.
¶This childe of Fancie that Armado hight,
¶In high borne wordes the worth of many a Knight:
¶From tawnie Spaine lost in the worldes debate.
185How you delight my Lords I know not I,
¶But I protest I loue to heare him lie,
¶A man of fier new wordes, Fashions owne knight.
¶
Enter a Constable with Costard with a letter.
¶in flesh and blood.
¶Ber. This is he.
¶Const. Signeour Arme Arme commendes you:
200Ther's villanie abrod, this letter will tell you more.
¶Clowne. Sir the Contempls thereof are as touching me.
¶Lon. A high hope for a low heauen. God grant vs patience
¶Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing.
210to forbeare both.
¶in the merrines.
¶The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
215Bero. In what manner?
¶vppon the Forme, and taken following her into the Parke:
¶which put togeather, is in manner and forme following.
¶to a woman, for the forme in some forme.
225the right.
¶Ferd. Will you heare this Letter with attention?
¶Bero.As we would heare an Oracle.
235Ferd. So it is
¶but so.
¶Ferd. Peace.
¶Clow. Be to me, and euerie man that dares not fight.
240Ferd. No wordes.
¶of thy health-geuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my
¶which is called Supper: So much for the time When. Now for the
¶ground Which? which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped Thy Park.
¶Then for the place Where? where I meane, I did incounter that ob-
¶hight Costard,
(Clown. O mee)sorted and consorted contrary to
¶Clo. With a Wench.
¶Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy
¶good reput, carriage bearing, and estimation.
¶hir to tryall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and hartburning
¶heate of duetie.
¶
Don Adriano de Armado.
¶euer I heard.
280Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation?
¶marking of it.
¶ken with a Wench.
¶Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken with a
¶Maide.
¶weeke with Branne and Water.
¶Clo. I had rather pray a month with Mutton & Porridge.
300My Lord Berovvne, see him deliuered ore,
¶And goe we Lordes to put in practise that,
¶Bero. Ile lay my Head to any good mans Hat,
305Surra, Come on.
¶with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a trew girle, and therefore
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Armado and Moth his page.
¶rite growes melancholy?
¶tender Iuuenall?
¶tough signeor.
¶Boy. Why tender iuuenall? Why tender iuuenall?
325apperteining to thy young dayes, which we may nominate
¶tender.
¶olde time, which we may name tough.
¶Arma. Prettie and apt.
¶or I apt, and my saying prettie?
¶Arma. What? that an Eele is ingenious.
¶Boy. That an Eele is quicke.
¶my blood.
¶Boy. How many is one thrice tolde?
¶pleat man.
¶summe of deus-ace amountes to.
355Arm. It doth amount to one more then two.
¶Arma. True.
Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of studie? Now heere is
¶put yeeres to the worde three, and studie three yeeres in two
360wordes, the dauncing Horse will tell you.
¶Boy. To proue you a Cypher.
365If drawing my Sword against the humor of affection, would
¶deliuer me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take
370men haue bin in loue?
¶name more; and sweete my childe let them be men of good
375repute and carriage.
¶great carriage: for he carried the Towne-gates on his backe
¶like a Porter: and he was in loue.
380thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carying gates.
¶I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons loue my deare Moth?
¶Arm. Of what complexion?
385Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of
¶the foure.
¶Arm. Is that one of the foure complexions?
¶Arm. Greene in deede is the colour of Louers: but to
¶such colours.
¶Ar. Define, define, well educated infant.
¶Her faultes will nere be knowne:
405For blush-in cheekes by faultes 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
¶Ar. Is there not a Ballet Boy of the King & 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.
¶I do loue, that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke
¶Boy. And thats great maruaile, louing a light Wench.
430
Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.
435womand. Fare you well.
¶Maide. Man.
¶Maid. Thats hereby.
¶Ar. I will tell thee wonders.
¶Ma. With that face.
¶Ar. I loue thee.
¶Ma. Faire weather after you.
450pardoned.
¶stomacke.
¶Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they
455are but lightly rewarded.
465Clo. Nay nothing M. Moth, but what they looke vppon.
¶tience as an other man, & therfore I can be quiet.
Exit.
¶of falsehood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which
¶is falsely attempted? Loue is a familiar; Loue is a Diuell.
¶hard for Hercules Clubb, and therefore too much oddes for a
¶Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.
Exit.
490
Enter the Princesse of Fraunce, with three
¶
attending Ladies and three Lordes.
¶To parlee with the sole inheritoure
¶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.
¶Queene. Good L. Boyet, my beautie though but meane,
¶Beautie is bought by iudgement of the eye,
¶Then you much willing to be counted wise,
¶You are not ignorant all telling fame
¶Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a Vow,
515No Woman may approch his silent Court:
¶Before we enter his forbidden gates,
¶To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
¶Bold of your worthines, we single you,
¶Tell him, the Daughter of the King of France
¶Importuous personall conference with his grace.
525Like humble visage Suters his high will.
¶Who are the Votaries my louing Lordes, that are vowfel-
¶lowes with this vertuous Duke?
530Lor. Longauill is one.
¶Princ. Know you the man?
¶Betweene L. Perigort and the bewtious heire
¶Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
535In Normandie saw I this Longauill,
¶Well fitted in artes, glorious in armes:
¶Nothing becoms him ill that he would well.
¶Is a sharpe Wit matcht 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 shape to win grace though he had no wit.
¶And much too little of that good I saw,
555Is my report to his great worthines.
¶Was there with him, if I haue heard a trueth.
¶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-moouing iest.
¶Which his fayre tongue (conceites expositer)
565Deliuers in such apt and gracious wordes,
¶That aged eares play treuant at his tales.
¶And younger hearinges are quite rauished.
570That euery one her owne hath garnished,
¶Prin. Now, What admittance Lord?
575Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approch,
¶And he and his compettitours in oth,
¶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 feelde,
580Like one that comes heere to besiedge his Court,
¶To let you enter his vnpeeled house.
¶
Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, & Berowne.
¶Bo. 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 be yours, and
¶welcome to the wide fieldes too base to be mine.
¶Prin. I wilbe welcome then, Conduct me thither.
¶Nau. Not for the worldefaire Madame, by my will.
¶Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance.
600Tis deadlie sinne to keepe that oath my Lord,
¶To teach a teacher ill beseemeth mee.
¶For youle proue periurde if you make me staie.
¶Berowne. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
610Kather. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
¶Ber. I know you did.
¶Kath. Not till it leaue the rider in the mire.
¶Ber. What time a day?
620Kath. Faire fall the face it couers.
¶Ber. Nay then will I be gon.
¶Ferd. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
625The payment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
¶Being but the one halfe of, of an intire summe,
¶But say that he, or we, as neither haue
¶Receiud that summe, yet there remaines vnpaide
¶One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
¶Although not valued to the monies worth.
¶If then the King your father will restore,
635We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
¶For here he doth pemaund to haue repaide,
¶A hundred thousand Crownes, and not demaunds
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 Aquitaine, so guelded as it is.
¶Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong,
650And wrong the reputation of your name,
¶Of that which hath so faithfully been paide.
¶And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
655Or yeelde vp Aquitaine.
¶Boyet you can produce acquittances,
¶Of Charles his father.
¶Where that and other specialties are bound:
665All liberall reason I will yeelde vnto.
¶Meane time receiue such welcome at my hand,
¶As honor (without breach of honor) may,
¶Make tender of to thy true worthines.
¶Your owne good thoughtes excuse me, and farewell.
¶Ber. Ladie I will commend you to my none hart.
¶Ros. Pray you, do my commendations, I would be glad
¶to see it.
680Ber. I would you heard it grone.
¶Ber. Sicke at the hart.
¶Ros. Alacke, let it blood.
¶Bar. Would that do it good?
¶Ber. Will you prickt with your eye.
¶Ros. No poynt, with my knife.
¶Ros. And yours from long liuing.
¶
Enter Dumaine.
¶Bo. Her mothers, I haue heard.
¶
Enter Berowne.
¶Bero. Whats her name in the capp?
710Boy. Katherin by good happ.
¶Not a word with him but a iest.
¶Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
¶Boy. I was as willing to grapple as he was to boord.
720Lady Ka. Two hot Sheepes marie.
¶Bo. And wherefore not Shipps?
¶My lippes are no Common, though seuerall they be.
¶Bo. Belonging to whom?
¶La. To my fortunes and mee.
¶Prin. Good witts will be iangling, but gentles agree,
730This ciuill warre of wittes were much better vsed
¶On Nauar and his Bookmen, for heere tis abused.
¶Deceaue me not now, Nauar is infected.
735Prin. With what?
¶Bo. With that which we Louers intitle Affected.
¶Bo. Why all his behauiours did make their retire,
¶To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desier.
745To feele only looking on fairest of faire:
¶Who tendring their owne worth from where they were
(glast,
¶Did poynt you to buy them along as you past.
750His faces owne margent did coate such amazes,
¶That all eyes saw his eyes inchaunted 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.
760Lad. 2. He is Cupids Graundfather, and learnes newes
¶of him.
¶Lad. 3. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is
¶but grim.
¶Boy. Do you heare my mad Wenches?
765Lad. No.
¶Lad. I, our way to be gone.
770
Enter Braggart and his Boy.
¶Boy. Concolinel.
775Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernes of yeeres, take this Key,
¶giue enlargement to the Swaine, bring him festinatly hither,
¶I must imploy him in a letter to my loue.
¶the tongues ende, canarie to it with your feete, humour it
¶your eyes, with your armes crost on your thinbellies doblet
¶like a Rabbet on a spit, or your handes in your pocket like a
¶man after the olde painting, and keepe not too long in one
¶traied without these, and make them men of note: do you
¶Brag. But o but o.
¶loue perhaps, a hacknie: But haue you forgot your Loue?
805Brag. By hart, and in hart boy.
¶proue.
¶Brag. What wilt thou proue?
¶Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the
¶by her: in hart you loue her, because your hart is in loue
¶with her: and out of hart you loue her, being out of hart
¶that you cannot enioy her.
815Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing
¶at all.
¶for he is verie slow gated: but I go.
¶Brag. The meaning prettie ingenius, is not Lead a mettal
¶heauie, dull, and slow?
¶Is that Lead slow which is fierd from a Gunne?
¶He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet thats hee:
¶I shoote thee at the Swaine.
835Boy. Thump then, and I flee.
¶Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place.
¶My Herald is returnd.
840
Enter Page and Clowne.
¶O sir, Plantan, a pline Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue
¶sir, but a Plantan.
856.1I will example it.
¶The Fox, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
¶ Were still at oddes being but three.
¶Ther's the morrall: Now the lenuoy.
¶Ar. The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
¶Were still at oddes, being but three.
¶ And staied the oddes by adding foure.
.10Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with
¶ my lenuoy.
¶The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
860Were 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.
¶Then cald you for the Lenuoy.
875Then the boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought,
¶and he ended the market.
¶Arm. We will talke no more of this matter.
¶captiuated, bound.
¶Clown. True, true, and now you wilbe my purgation,
¶and let me loose.
895lewe thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this
¶neration, for the best ward of mine honour, is rewarding
¶my dependants. Moth, follow.
¶Now will I looke to his remuneration.
¶Remuneration, O that's the latine word for three-farthings:
¶Three-farthings remuration, What's the price of this yncle?
905i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why? it carries it re-
¶muneration: Why? it is a fayrer name then French-Crowne.
¶I will neuer buy and sell out of this word.
¶
Enter Berowne.
¶a man buy for a remuneration?
¶Ber. O what is a remuneration?
915Ber. O, why then threefarthing worth of Silke.
¶As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue,
¶Do 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
¶do it sir in print: gardon remuneration.
¶
Exit.
¶watch Constable,
¶A domineering pedant ore the Boy, then whom no mor-
¶tall so magnificent.
945This wimpled whyning purblind wayward Boy,
¶This signior Iunios gyant dwarffe, dan 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 litle hart.)
¶And I to be a Corporall of his fielde,
¶And weare his coloures like a Tumblers hoope.
¶A woman that is like a Iermane Cloake,
¶Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
¶And neuer going a right, being a Watch:
¶But being watcht, that it may still go 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 balles stucke in her face for eyes.
¶I and by heauen, one that will do 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 almightie dreadfull little might.
¶
Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladyes,
¶
and her Lordes
¶Forr. I know not, but I thinke it was not he.
980Ore Saterday we will returne to Fraunce.
¶Forr. Heereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,
¶O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe
990For. Yes Madam faire.
¶Quee. Nay, neuer paint me now,
¶Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
¶Faire payment for foule wordes, is more then dew.
995For. No thing but faire is that which you inherrit.
¶But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill,
1000And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
¶Not wounding, pittie would not let me doote.
¶Glorie growes guyltie of detested crimes,
¶We bend to that, the working of the hart.
1010The poore Deares blood, that my hart meanes no ill.
¶Lords ore their Lordes?
1015To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
¶
Enter Clowne.
¶Boyet, Here comes a member of the common wealth.
¶Clo. God dig-you-den al, pray you which is the head lady?
¶Are not you the chiefe woman? You are the thickest heere.
1030to one Ladie Rosaline.
¶Que. 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 heere.
¶It is writ to Iaquenetta.
¶Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare.
¶true that thou art beautious, trueth it selfe that¶thou art louelie: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beau-1045King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitaTe¶Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say,¶Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base1050He came, one; see, two; couercame, three. Who came? the¶come. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the¶Begger. Who ouercame he? the Begger. The conclusion is1060loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I coulde. Shall I en-¶treate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for raggs¶roabes, for tittles tytles, for thy selfe, mee. Thus expecting¶thy replie, I prophane my lippes on thy foote, my eyes on¶thy picture, and my hart on thy euerie part.¶Thine in the dearest designe of industri,¶Don Adriana de Armatho.
¶Thus dost thou heare the nemean Lion roare,
¶And he from forrage will incline to play.
¶Foode for his rage, repasture for his den.
¶Quee. What plume of fethers is he that indited this letter?
1075What vaine? What Wethercock? Did you euer heare better?
¶Quee. Els your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile.
¶Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keepes here in court,
¶To the Prince and his Booke-mates.
¶Quee. Thou fellow, a worde.
¶Who gaue thee this letter?
¶Clow. I tolde you, my Lord.
¶Clow. From my Lord to my Ladie.
¶Quee. From which Lord, to which Ladie?
¶To a Ladie of France, that he calde Rosaline.
¶Here sweete, put vp this, twilbe thine annother day.
¶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 horns that yeere miscarrie.
¶ Finely put on.
¶Boy. And who is your Deare?
¶neare. Finely put on in deede.
1105at the brow.
¶was a man when King Pippen of Frannce was a litle boy, as
1110touchiug the hit it.
¶woman when queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a litle wench
¶as toching the hit it.
1115Thou canst not hit it my good man.
Exit.
¶Let the mark haue a prick in't, to meate at, if it may be.
¶Mar. Wide a'the bow hand, yfaith your hand is out.
¶Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
1135Bo. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good owle.
¶Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.
¶To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fann.
¶And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,
¶Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
¶Sowla, sowla.
Exeunt. Shoot within.
1150
Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.
¶of a good conscience.
¶as the Pomwater, who now hangeth like a Iewel in the eare
1155of Celo the skie, the welken the heauen, & anon falleth like
¶a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth.
¶Curat Nath. Truely M. Holofernes, the epythithes are
1160it was a Bucke of the first head.
¶Holo. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
¶Dul. Twas not a haud credo, twas a Pricket.
¶tion, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were
¶ignorance, How deformed doost thou looke.
¶Nath. Sir he hath neuer fed of the dainties that are bred
1175in a booke.
¶He hath not eate paper as it were: he hath not drunke inck.
¶His intellect is not replenished, he is only an annimall, only
¶ and feeling, are for those partes that doe fructifie in vs
¶ more then he.
¶But omne bene say I, being of an olde Fathers minde,
¶Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde.
¶Dul. You two are book-men, Can you tel me by your wit,
1190What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue weeks
¶old as yet?
¶Dul. What is dictima?
1195Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone.
¶And rought not to fiue-weeks when he came to fiuescore.
¶Th'allusion holdes in the Exchange.
¶in the Exchange.
¶taph on the death of the Deare, and to humour the igno-
¶you to abrogate squirilitie.
¶ a prettie pleasing Pricket,
¶The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,
1220 then Sorell iumps from thicket:
¶Or Pricket-sore, or els Sorell,
¶ the people fall a hooting.
¶If Sore be sore, then el to Sore,
1225Of one sore I an hundred make
¶ by adding but one more l.
¶Nath. A rare talent.
¶Dull. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him
¶with a talent.
¶Ideas, aprehentions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in
¶ter, and deliuered vpon the mellowing of occasion: But the
1235gyft is good in those whom it is acute, and I am thankfull
¶for it.
¶oners, for their Sonnes are well tuterd by you, and their
¶Daughters profite very greatly vnder you: you are a good
1240member of the common wealth.
¶want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will
¶nine saluteth vs.
1245
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.
¶be perst, Which is the one?
¶in a turph of Earth, Fier enough for a Flint, Pearle enough
¶for a Swine: tis prettie, it is well.
¶I beseech you read it.
¶of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non
1260te vnde, que non te perreche. Olde Mantuan, olde Mantuan,
¶Ah neuer fayth could hold, yf not to beautie vowed.
¶Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
¶Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.
¶Thy eie Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadful thũder
¶Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
¶gancie, facilitie, and golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius
¶ling out the odoriferous flowers of fancie? the ierkes of in-
1290uention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his maister,
¶virgin, Was this directed to you?
1295Queenes Lordes.
¶
To the snow-white hand of the most bewtious Lady Rosaline.
¶I will looke againe on the intellect of the letter, for the no-
¶
mination of the partie written to the person written vnto.
¶
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne.
¶Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries
¶with the King, and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent
¶of the stranger Queenes: which accidentally, or by the way
¶deliuer this Paper into the royall hand of the King, it may
¶concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgine thy
¶dewtie, adue.
¶Ped. Sir tell not mee of the Father, I do feare colourable
¶sir Nathaniel?
¶Nath. Marueilous well for the pen.
¶Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine pupill of
1320the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with
¶the parentes of the foresaid childe or pupill, vndertake your
¶learned, neither sauouring of Poetrie, wit, nor inuention.
¶is the happines of life.
¶Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our re-
¶creation.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Berowne with a paper in his hand, alone.
¶Berow. The King he is hunting the Deare,
¶
They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pytch
¶that defiles; defile, a foule worde: Well, set thee downe
¶foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this Loue is as madd
1340as Aiax, it kills Sheepe, it kills mee, I a Sheepe well prooued
¶againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang mee: I'fayth
¶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 do nothing
¶in the world but lie, and lie in my throate. By heauen I doe
1345loue, and it hath taught me to rime, and to be mallicholie:
¶and heere is part of my Rime, and heare my mallicholie.
¶Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore
¶care a pin, if the other three were in. Heere comes one with
¶a paper, God giue him grace to grone.
¶
He standes a side._The King entreth.
¶King. Ay mee!
¶him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left papp: in fayth 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 carrie thee:¶So ridest thou triumphing in my wo.¶Do but beholde the teares that swell in me,¶And they thy glorie through my griefe will show:
1370But do not loue thy selfe, then thou will keepe¶O Queene of queenes, how farre doost thou excell,¶No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
1375Sweete leaues shade follie. Who is he comes heere?
¶
Enter Longauill.
The King steps a side.
¶What Longauill, and reading: listen eare.
1380Berow. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers.
¶Ber. One drunkard loues an other of the name.
¶Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,
¶The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hanges vp Simplicitie.
¶Disfigure not his Shop.
¶Did not the heanenly Rethorique of thine eye,
¶Gainst whom the world cannot holde argument,¶A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,¶My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.1400Thy grace being gainde, cures all disgrace in mee.¶Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapoure is.¶Exhalst this vapour-vow in thee it is:¶If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
¶God amende vs, God amende, we are much out a th'way.
1410
Enter Dumaine.
¶Berow. All hid, all hid, an olde infant play,
¶And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore ey.
1415More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wysh,
¶Duma. By heauen the woonder in a mortall eye.
¶Duma. Her Amber heires for foule hath amber coted.
¶Ber. An amber colourd Rauen was well noted.
¶Duma. As vpright as the Ceder.
1425Duma. As faire as day.
¶Long. And I had mine.
¶King. And mine too good Lord.
¶Raignes in my blood, and will remembred be.
1435Dum. Once more Ile reade the Odo that I haue writ.
¶Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varrie Wit.
¶
Dumaine reads his Sonnet.
¶ On a day, alacke the day:¶ Loue, whose Month is euer May:¶ Playing in the wanton aire:¶ Through the Veluet, leaues the wind,¶ That the Louer sicke to death,
¶ Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blow,¶ Ayre would I might triumph so.¶ But alacke my hand is sworne,¶ Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:1450 Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,¶ Do not call it sinne in me,¶ That I am forsworne for thee:¶ Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,1455 Iuno but an Æthiop 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 periurde note:
¶For none offende, where all alike do dote.
¶Long. Dumaine thy Loue is farre from charitie,
¶To be ore-hard and taken napping so.
¶You chide at him, offending twice as much.
1470You do 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 hart.
1475And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
¶Ay mee sayes one! O Ioue the other cryes!
¶One her haires were Golde, Christal the others eyes.
1480You would for Parradise breake Fayth and troth,
¶And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oth.
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 mee.
¶Ah good my Leidge, I pray thee pardon mee.
1490Good hart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
¶Your eyes do make no couches in your teares.
¶Youle not be periurde, tis a hatefull thing:
¶But are you not a shamed? 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 do finde in each of three.
1500O what a Scaene of foolrie haue I seene,
¶To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
1505And profound Sallomon to tune a Iigge.
¶And Crittick 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 Caudle hou!
¶Are we betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
¶Ber. Not you by mee, but I betrayed to you.
¶To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
¶I am betrayed by keeping companie
¶With men like men of inconstancie.
1520Or grone for Ione? or spende a minutes time,
¶
hand, a foote, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
¶a wast, a legge, a limme.
1525A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so.
¶King. Yf it marr nothing neither,
¶The treason and you goe in peace away togeather.
¶Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
¶Ber. A toy my Leedge, a toy: your grace needs not feare it.
¶Dum. It is Berownes writing, and heere is his name.
¶do me shame.
¶King. What?
¶Hee, hee, and you: and you my Leege, and I,
¶Duma. Now the number is euen.
¶As true we are as flesh and blood can be,
¶The Sea will ebb and flow, heauen shew his face:
1565Young blood doth not obay an olde decree.
¶That (like a rude and sauadge man of Inde.)
1575What peromptorie 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 culd soueraigntie,
¶Do meete as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
1585Where seuerall worthies make one dignitie,
¶Lend me the florish of all gentle tongues,
¶Fie paynted Rethoricke, O shee needes it not,
¶A witherd Hermight fiuescore winters worne,
¶Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
¶Beautie doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
¶And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
1595O tis the Sunne that maketh all thinges shine.
¶King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie.
¶Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word deuine!
¶A wife of such wood were felicitie.
¶O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
1600That I may sweare Beautie doth beautie lacke,
¶If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
¶No face is fayre that is not full so blacke.
¶King. O paradox, Blacke is the badge of Hell,
¶The hue of dungions, and the Schoole of night:
1605And beauties crest becomes the heauens well.
¶O if in blacke my Ladyes browes be deckt,
¶It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
1610And therefore is she borne to make blacke fayre.
¶Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
¶For natiue blood is counted paynting now:
¶Paintes it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow.
¶Duma. Darke needes no Candles now, for darke is light.
¶Ile finde a fayrer face not washt to day.
¶Her feete were much too daintie for such tread.
¶King. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
¶King. Then leaue this chat, and good Berowne now proue
¶Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne.
¶Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheate 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 vowd to studie (Lordes)
¶In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
¶Can you still dreame and poare and thereon looke.
¶For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
1650Haue found the ground of Studies excellence,
¶Without the beautie 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 spirites in the arteries,
¶As motion and long during action tyres
¶The sinnowy vigour of the trauayler.
¶Now for not looking on a womans face,
¶For where is any Authour in the worlde,
¶Teaches such beautie as a womas 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, Lordes,
1670And in that Vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
¶For when would you (my Leedge) or you, or you?
¶In leaden contemplation haue found out
¶Such fierie Numbers as the prompting eyes,
¶Of beautis tutors haue inritcht you with:
1675Other slow Artes 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 elamentes,
¶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 Valoure, is not Loue a Hercules?
¶Still clyming trees in the Hesperides.
¶As bright Appolos Lute, strung with his haire.
1695And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Goddes,
¶Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
¶Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
¶Vntill his Incke were tempred with Loues sighes:
1700And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
¶From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
¶They are the Bookes, the Artes, the Achademes,
1705Els none at all in ought proues excellent.
¶Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
¶Or for Loues sake, a worde that loues all men.
¶Or Womens sake, by whom we Men are Men.
¶It is Religion to be thus forsworne.
1715For Charitie it selfe fulfilles the Law:
¶And who can seuer Loue from Charitie.
¶King. Saint Cupid then and Souldiers to the fielde.
1720In conflict that you get the Sunne of them.
¶Some enterteinment for them in their Tentes.
¶Then homeward euery man attach the hand
¶Of his faire Mistres, in the afternoone
1730For Reuels, Daunces, Maskes, and merrie houres,
¶Forerunne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowers.
¶That will be time and may by vs befitted.
¶Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsorne,
¶
Enter the Pedant, the Curat, and Dull.
¶wittie without affection, audatious without impudencie,
1745conuerse this quondam day with a companion of the kings,
¶who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Ar-
¶matho.
¶Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is loftie, his
¶to od as it were, too peregrinat as I may call it.
1755
Draw-out his Table-booke.
¶not det: he clepeth a Calfe, Caufe: halfe, haufe: neighbour
¶vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable,
¶famie: ne inteligis domine, to make frantique lunatique?
¶Curat. Laus deo, bene intelligo.
¶
Enter Bragart, Boy.
1770Curat. Vides ne quis venit?
¶Peda. Video, et gaudio.
¶Brag. Chirra.
¶Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
¶Brag. Men of peace well incontred.
¶I maruaile thy M. hath not eaten thee for a worde, for thou
1780art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus:
¶Page. Peace, the peale begins.
1785Page. Yes yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What
¶is Ab speld backward with the horne on his head?
¶Poda. Ba, puericia with a horne added.
¶or the fift if I.
¶Peda. I will repeate them: a e I.
¶Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u.
¶home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit.
¶Page. Offerd by a childe to an old man: which is wit-old.
1800Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?
¶Page. Hornes.
¶Pag. Lende me your Horne to make one, and I will whip
1805about your Infamie vnū cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne.
¶haue it to buy Ginger bread: Holde, there is the verie
¶Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfepennie
stard; What a ioyfull father wouldest thou make me?
¶barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-House
¶on the top of the Mountaine?
¶Peda. Or Mons the hill.
¶of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone.
¶congruent, and measurable for the after noone: the worde is
¶my poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie
1840a Souldier, a man of trauayle, that hath seene the worlde: but
1845or pageant, or antique, or fierworke: Now vnderstanding
¶tions, and sodaine breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue
¶Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainement of time,
¶sent them?
1860man Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great lim
¶that worthies thumbe, he is not so big as the end of his Club.
¶and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose.
¶Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though
¶few haue the grace to do it.
1875Page. Thrice worthie Gentleman.
¶Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?
¶Peda. We attende.
¶seech you follow.
¶this while.
¶Ped. Alone, we will employ thee.
1885the Taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hey.
¶
Enter the Ladyes.
¶Yf Fayrings come thus plentifully in.
1890A Ladie walde about with Diamondes: Looke you, what I
¶haue from the louing King.
¶Rosa. Madame, came nothing els along with that?
¶Quee. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
¶As would be crambd vp in asheete of paper
1895Writ a 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 been fiue thousand yeere a Boy.
¶And so may you: For a light hart liues long.
1905Ros. Whats your darke meaning mouce, of this light word?
¶Kath. A light condition in a beautie darke.
¶Ros. We neede more light to finde your meaning out.
1910Therefore Ile darkly ende the argument.
¶Kath. So do not you, for you are a light Wench.
¶Ros. In deede I waigh not you, and therefore light.
¶Kath. You waigh me not, O thats you care not for me.
¶But Rasaline, 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 Vearses too, I thanke Berowne,
¶The numbers true, and were the numbring too,
1925I am comparde to twentie thousand fairs.
¶O he hath drawen my picture in his letter.
¶Quee. Any thing like?
1930Kath. Faire as a text B in a Coppie booke.
¶My red Dominicall, my golden letter,
¶O that your face were not so full of Oes.
1935But Katherine what was sent to you
¶From faire Dumaine?
¶Kath. Madame, this Gloue.
¶Kath. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
¶Vildly compyled, 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 go.
¶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 wittes in booteles rimes.
¶And make him proude to make me proude that iestes,
¶That he should be my foole, and I his fate.
1960As Wit turnde Foole, follie in Wisedome hatcht:
¶Hath Wisedomes warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
¶And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole.
¶As grauities reuolt to wantons be.
¶As foolrie in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
¶Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
¶To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
¶
Enter Boyet.
1970Quee. Heere comes Boyet, and myrth is in his face.
¶Quee. Thy newes Boyet?
¶Boy. Prepare Maddame, prepare.
¶Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
¶Or hide your heades like Cowardes, and flie hence.
¶Quee. Saint Dennis to S. Cupid: What are they,
1985The King and his companions warely,
¶I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
¶And ouer hard, what you shall ouer heare:
¶Their Heralde is a prettie knauish Page:
¶Action and accent did they teach him there.
¶And euer and anon they made a doubt,
¶The Boy replyde, An Angell is not euill:
¶With that all laught, and clapt him on the shoulder,
2000Making the bolde wagg by their prayses bolder.
¶One rubbd his elbow thus, and fleerd, and swore,
¶Another with his fynger and his thume,
¶Cried via we will doo't come what wil come.
2005The thirde he caperd and cryed, All goes well.
¶The fourth turnd on the tooe, and downe he fell:
¶With that they all did tumble on the ground,
¶That in this spleene rediculous appeares,
¶Boy. They do, they do; and are appariled thus,
¶Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and daunce,
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:
¶Holde take thou this my sweete, and giue mee thine,
¶Woo contrarie, deceyued by these remoues.
¶Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?
¶They do it but in mockerie merement,
¶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 pend speach render we no grace:
2040But while tis spoke each turne away his face.
¶And quite diuorce his memorie from his part.
¶Quee. Therefore I do 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 wel mockt depart away with shame.
Sound Trom.
¶
Enter Black-moores with musicke, the Boy with a
¶
speach, and the rest of the Lordes disguysed.
¶Berow. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata.
¶backes to mortall viewes.
¶
The Ladyes turne their backes to him.
¶Berow. Their eyes villaine, their eyes.
¶Pag. That euen turnde their eyes to mortall viewes.
2060Out
¶Boy. True, out in deede.
¶Not to beholde.
¶Berow. Once to beholde, rogue.
2065Page. Once to beholde 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 bringes me out.
2070Ber. Is this your perfectnes? begon you rogue.
¶Know their mindes Boyet.
¶If they do speake our language, tis our will
2075Know what they would?
¶Boyet. What would you with the Princes?
¶Is in one mile? If they haue measured manie,
¶How manie inches doth fill vp one mile?
2095Of manie weerie miles you haue ore gone,
¶Are numbred in the trauaile of one Mile?
¶That we may do it still without accompt.
¶Rosa. My face is but a Moone, and clouded too.
2105(Those cloudes remooued) vpon our waterie eyne.
¶Rosa. O vaine peticioner, begg a greater matter,
¶Not yet no daunce: thus change I like the Moone.
¶Our eares vouchsafe it.
¶Weele not be nice, take handes, we will not daunce.
¶King. Why take we handes then?
¶Rosa, Onely to part friendes.
¶King. That can neuer be.
¶Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you.
¶King. If you denie to daunce, lets holde more chat.
¶Rosa. In priuat then.
¶Quee. Honie, and Milke, and Suger: there is three.
¶Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
¶Ile play no more with you.
2145Quee. Gall, bitter,
¶Bero. Therefore meete.
¶Maria. Name it.
¶Duma. Faire Ladie.
¶Maria. What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
¶And would afforde my speachles vizard halfe.
¶Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not veale a Calfe?
¶Long. A Calfe faire Ladie.
¶Mar. No, a faire Lorde Calfe.
¶Long. Let's part the word?
¶Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
2165Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe.
¶Mar. Then die a Calfe, before your hornes do grow.
2170Long. One word in priuate with you ere I die.
¶Boyet. The tongues of mocking Wenches are as keene
¶Seemeth their conference, their conceites haue winges,
¶Fleeter then Arrowes, bullets wind thought swifter thinges.
¶Rosa. Not one word more my Maides, break off, break off.
¶Quee. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.
¶Will they not (thinke you) hange them selues to nyght?
2190Or euer but in vizards shew their faces.
¶This pert Berowne was out of countnance quite.
¶The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
¶And trow you what he calde me?
¶Quee. Qualme perhapt.
2200Kath. Yes in good faith.
¶But will you heare; the King is my Loue sworne.
¶Quee. And quicke Berowne hath plighted Fayth to me.
¶Immediatly they will againe be heere,
¶In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be,
¶Quee. 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,
2220Are Angels varling cloudes, or Roses blowne.
¶If they returne in their owne shapes to woe?
2225Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare,
¶And wonder what they were, and to what ende
¶And their rough carriage so rediculous,
2230Should be presented at our Tent to vs.
¶Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand,
¶
Enter the King and the rest.
¶maunde me any seruice to her thither,
¶And vtters it againe when God dooth please.
¶He is Witts Pedler, and retales his wares:
¶This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue.
¶Had he bin Adam he had tempted Eue.
¶A can carue to, and lispe: Why this is hee
2250This is the Ape of Forme, Mounsier the nice,
¶That when he playes at Tables chides the Dice
¶In honorable tearmes; nay he can sing
¶Mende him who can, the Ladies call him sweete.
¶This is the floure that smyles on euery one.
¶To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
¶And consciences that will not die in debt,
¶Pay him the due of honie-tonged Boyet.
¶That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
¶
Enter the Ladies.
¶Bero. See where it comes. Behauiour what wert thou?
¶Till this mad man shewed thee, and what art thou now?
¶Quee. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceaue.
2270To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.
¶Nor God nor I delights in periurd men.
¶King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
¶The vertue of your eie must breake my oth.
¶For vertues office neuer breakes mens troth.
¶Now by my maiden honour yet as pure,
¶A worlde of tormentes though I should endure,
¶So much I hate a breaking cause to be
¶Of heauenly Othes vowed with integritie.
¶Quee. I in trueth My Lord.
¶My Ladie (to the maner of the dayes)
¶We foure in deede confronted were with foure,
¶And talkt 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 hudge stoore,
¶Bero. I am a foole, and full of pouertie.
¶Rosa. But that you take what doth to you belong,
¶It were a fault to snatch wordes from my tongue.
¶Rosa. All the foole mine.
¶Ros. Which of the Vizards was it that you wore?
¶Ber. Where, when, what Vizard? why demaund you this?
¶you pale?
¶Bero. Thus pooure the Starres downe plagues for periurie.
¶Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit.
¶And I will wish thee neuer more to daunce,
2335Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boyes tongue:
¶Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,
¶Nor woo in rime like a blind harpers songue.
¶Three pilde Hiberboles, spruce affection:
¶Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
¶By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knowes)
¶And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
¶Bero. Yet I haue a tricke,
2350Of the olde rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
¶Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
¶They are infected, in their hartes it lyes:
¶They haue the Plague, and caught it of your eyes,
¶For the Lords tokens on you do I see.
¶Bero. Peace, for I will not haue to doe with you.
2365Some faire excuse.
¶King. Madame, I was.
2370King. I was faire Madame.
¶Quee. When you then were heere,
¶What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
¶King. Vpon mine honour no.
¶Quee. Peace peace, forbeare: your Oth once broke, you
¶force not to forsweare.
¶As precious ey-sight, and did value me
¶Aboue this Worlde: adding thereto more ouer,
2385That he would wed me, or els die my Louer.
¶Quee. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
¶Most honourablie doth vphold his word,
¶King. What meane you Madame: by my life my troth,
¶Rosal. 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?
¶Berow. Neither of either: I remit both twaine.
2400Knowing aforehand of our meriment,
¶That smyles, his cheeke in yeeres, and knowes the trick
¶The Ladies did change Fauours; and then wee
¶Now to our periurie, to add more terror,
2410We are againe forsworne in will and error.
¶Much vpon this tis: and might not you
¶Do not you know my Ladies foote by'th squier?
¶And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
¶Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
¶You put our Page out: goe, you are aloude.
¶You leere vpon me, do you: ther's an eie
2420Woundes like a leaden sword.
¶Boyet. Full merely hath this braue nuage, this carreere
¶bin run.
¶
Enter Clowne.
¶Whether the three Worthis shall come in or no?
¶Ber. What, are there but three?
2430For euerie one pursents three.
¶Bero. And three times thrice is nine.
2435Bero. Is not nine.
¶amount.
¶Bero. By Ioue, I all wayes tooke three threes for nine.
2440by reckning sir.
¶Bero. How much is it?
¶will shew wher-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I
¶am (as thy say, but to parfect one man in one poore man)
2445Pompion the great sir.
¶Bero. Art thou one of the Worthies?
¶the great: for mine owne part I know not the degree of the
¶Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
2450Bero. Goe bid them prepare.
¶Quee. Nay my good Lord let me ore'rule you now.
¶Where zeale striues to content, and the contentes
¶Dies in the zeale of that which it presentes:
¶Their forme confounded, makes most forme in myrth,
¶When great thinges labouring perish in their byrth.
¶
Enter Bragart.
¶sweete breath, as will vtter a brace of wordes.
¶Too too vaine, too too vaine: but we will put it (as they say)
¶cupplement.
Exit.
¶He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey the great, the
2480dant Iudas Machabeus: And if these foure Worthies in their
¶the other fiue.
¶Foole, and the Boy,
¶Abate throw at Nouum, and the whole world againe,
¶Cannot picke out fiue such, take each one in his vaine.
2490
Enter Pompey.
¶Clowne. I Pompey am.
¶Bero. You lie, you are not he.
¶Clow. I Pompey am,
¶Boyet. With Libbards head on knee.
¶Duma. The great.
2500That oft in fielde with Targ and Shield did make my foe to sweat,
¶And trauailing along this coast I heere am come by chaunce,
¶Lady. Great thankes great Pompey.
¶made a litle fault in great.
2510Worthie.
¶
Enter Curate for Alexander.
¶Curat. When in the world I liud, I was the worldes commander:
2515My Scutchion plaine declares that I am Alisander.
¶Cura. When in the worlde I liued, I was the worldes commander.
2525Bero. Pompey the great.
¶rour: you will be scrapt out of the painted cloth for this.
¶will be geuen to Aiax. He wilbe the ninth Worthie: a Con-
2535good neighbour fayth, and a very good Bowler: but for
¶other sort.
Exit Curat.
2540
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
¶Whose Clubb kilde 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 Appologie.
Exit Boy.
¶Peda. Iudas I am.
¶Dum. A Iudas.
¶Iudas I am, ecliped Machabeus.
¶Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.
¶Peda. Iudas I am.
¶Bero. Well folowed, Iudas was hanged on an Flder.
2560Pedan. I will not be put out of countenance.
¶Pedan. What is this?
¶Boyet. A Cytterne head.
¶Duma. The head of a Bodkin.
2565Bero. A deaths face in a Ring.
¶Bero. Saint Georges halfe cheeke in a Brooch.
2570Duma. I and in a Brooch of Lead.
¶Bero. I and worne in the cappe of a Tooth-drawer:
¶And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance.
¶Peda. You haue put me out of countenance.
¶Duma. For the latter ende of his name.
¶Peden. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
¶may stumble.
2585Quee. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath he bin bayted.
¶
Eeter Braggart.
¶Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, here comes Hector in Armes.
2590Duma. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
¶now be merrie.
¶Boyet. But is this Hector?
2595Long. His Legge is too bigge for Hectors.
¶Duman. More Calfe certaine.
¶Bero. This cannot be Hector.
¶Duma. Hee's a God or a Painter: for he makes faces.
2600Braggart. The Armipotent Mars , of Launces the almightie,
¶gaue Hector a gift.
¶Duma. A gift Nutmegg.
¶Bero. A Lemmon.
¶Long. Stucke with Cloues.
2605Dum. No clouen.
¶Brag. Peace. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
¶Gaue Hector a gift, the heir of Illion,
¶A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight; yea,
¶From morne till night out of his Pauilion.
2610I am that Flower.
¶Dum. That Mint.
¶Long. That Cullambine.
¶Brag. Sweete Lord Longauill raine thy tongue.
2615Hector.
¶Dum. I and Hector's a Greyhound.
¶Sweete chucks beat not the bones of the buried:
2618.1When he breathed he was a man:
2620on me the sence of hearing.
¶
Berowne steps foorth.
¶Quee. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted.
¶Boyet. Loues her by the foote.
2625Dum. He may not by the yarde.
¶
The partie is gone.
¶her way.
¶bellie already: tis yours.
2635Thou shalt die.
¶quicke by him, and hangd for Pompey that is dead by him.
2640Boyet. Renowned Pompey.
¶pey the hudge.
¶Dum. Hector trembles.
2645or stir them on.
¶Duma. Hector will challenge him.
¶Bero. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in his belly then wil
¶suppe a Flea.
¶Brag. By the North Pole I do challenge thee.
2650Clow. I will not fight with a Pole like a Northren man;
¶row my Armes againe.
¶meane you? you will loose your reputation.
¶Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers, pardon me, I will not
2660combat in my shyrt.
¶Brag. Sweete bloodes, I both may and will.
2665Brag. The naked trueth of it is, I hane no Shirt.
¶I goe Woolward for pennance.
¶Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of
¶cloute of Jaquenettaes, and that a weares next his hart for a
2670Fauour.
¶
Enter a Messenger Mounsier Marcade.
¶merriment.
¶is heauie in my tongue. The King your father
¶Quee. Dead for my life.
¶B er. Worthies away, the Scæne begins to cloude.
2680Brag. For mine owne part I breath free breath: I haue
¶and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
Exeunt Worthys
2685Quee. Boyet prepare, I will away to nyght.
¶For all your faire endeuours and intreat:
¶If ouerboldly we haue borne our selues,
¶In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenes
¶Was guyltie of it.) Farewell worthy Lord:
2695A heauie hart beares not a humble tongue.
¶King. The extreame partes of time extreamly formes,
2700And often at his very loose decides
¶And though the mourning brow of progenie
¶Forbid the smyling courtecie of Loue,
¶The holy suite which faine it would conuince,
¶Let not the cloude of Sorrow iustle it
¶As to reioyce at friendes but newly found.
¶For your faire sakes, haue we neglected time.
¶Plaide fouleplay with our othes: your beautie Ladies
2715Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humours
¶Euen to the opposed ende of our ententes.
¶And what in vs hath seemed rediculous:
¶As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,
¶All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
2720Formd by the eye, and therefore like the eye.
¶Varying in subiectes as the eye doth roule,
¶To euery varied obiect in his glaunce:
2725Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eyes,
¶Haue misbecombd our othes and grauities.
¶Suggested vs to make, therefore Ladies
¶Our loue being yours, the errour that Loue makes
¶By being once falce, for euer to be true
¶To those that make vs both faire Ladies you.
¶Thus purifies it selfe and turns to grace.
2735Quee. We haue receiud your Letters, full of Loue:
¶And in our mayden counsaile rated them,
¶As bombast and as lyning to the time:
2740But more deuout then this our respectes,
¶Haue we not been, and therefore met your Loues,
¶In their owne fashyon like a merriment.
¶Long. So did our lookes.
¶Graunt vs your loues.
¶To make a world-without-end bargaine in:
2750No no my Lord, your Grace is periurde much,
¶Full of deare guiltines, and therefore this,
¶You will do ought, this shall you do for me:
2755To some forlorne and naked Hermytage,
¶Remote from all the pleasurs of the world:
¶Haue brought about the annuall reckoning.
2760Change not your offer made in heate of blood.
¶But that it beare this tryall, and last Loue,
¶Then at the expiration of the yeere,
¶Rayning the teares of lamentation,
2770For the remembraunce of my Fathers death.
¶If this thou do deny, let our handes part,
¶Neither intiled in the others hart.
¶King. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
¶Hence herrite then my hart, is in thy brest.
¶Berow. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
¶You are attaint with faultes and periurie:
2780Therefore if you my fauour meane to get,
¶Duma. But what to me my Loue? but what to me?
¶Come when the King doth to my Lady come:
2790Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some.
¶Mari. At the tweluemonths ende,
2795Ile change my blacke Gowne for a faithfull frend.
¶Beholde the window of my hart, mine eye:
¶Rosa. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
¶Before I saw you: and the worldes large tongue
¶Proclaymes you for a man repleat with mockes,
2805Full of comparisons and wounding floutes:
¶Which you on all estetes will execute,
¶That lie within the mercie of your wit
¶To weede this wormewood from your fructfull braine,
¶And therewithall to winne me, yf 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.
¶Berow. 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 clamours 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 spirrit,
¶And I shall finde you emptie of that fault,
2830Right ioyfull of your reformation.
¶Berow. A tweluemonth? well; befall what will befall,
¶King. No Madame, we will bring you on your way.
2835Berow. Our wooing doth not ende like an olde Play:
¶Might well haue made our sport a Comedie.
¶And then twill ende.
2840Berow. That's too long for a Play.
¶
Enter Braggart.
¶Queen. Was not that Hector?
¶Duma. The worthie Knight of Troy.
¶I am a Votarie; I haue vowde to Iaquenetta
To holde the Plough for her sweete loue three yeere.
¶that the two Learned men haue compiled, in prayse of the
¶Owle and the Cuckow? it should haue followed in the
2850ende of our shew.
¶Brag. Holla. Approch.
¶
Enter all.
¶This Ver, the Spring: The one maynteined by the Owle,
¶th'other by the Cuckow.
¶B. Ver begin.
¶
The Song.
2860When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
¶And Cuckow-budds of yellow hew:
¶Do paint the Meadowes with delight:
¶The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
2865Mocks married men; for thus singes hee,
¶Cuckow.
¶Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
¶Vnpleasing to a married eare.
¶When Shepheards pipe on Oten Strawes,
2870And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens Clocks:
¶When Turtles tread and Rookes and Dawes,
¶The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
¶Mockes married men, for thus singes he,
2875Cuckow.
¶Cuckow, cuckow: O word of feare,
¶Vnpleasing to a married eare.
¶
Winter.
¶When Isacles hang by the wall,
2880And Dicke the Sheepheard blowes his naile:
¶And Thom beares Logges into the hall,
¶And Milke coms frozen home in paile:
¶When Blood is nipt, and wayes be full,
2885Tu-whit to-who.
¶A merrie note,
¶While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
¶When all aloude the winde doth blow,
2890And Birdes sit brooding in the Snow,
¶And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:
¶Tu-whit to-who.
2895A merrie note,
¶While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
¶The vvordes of Mercurie, are harsh after the
¶songes of Apollo.
¶
FINIS.
