Scene II. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many, Boyet. If, to come hither you have measur'd miles, Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you; That we may do it still without accompt. Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change: soon. Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then: nay, you must do it [Music plays. Not yet;-no dance:-thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estrang'd? Ros. You took the moon at full; but now she's King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. We'll not be nice: take hands ;-we will not dance. Only to part friends:- Ros. Your absence only. : King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is Biron. Nay then, two treys (an if you grow so Metheglin, wort, and malmsey;-Well run, dice! Seventh sweet, adieu! Let it not be sweet. Gall? bitter. Mar. Name it. Dum. Mar. Take that for your fair lady. [They converse apart. As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. tongue ? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. And would afford my speechless visor half. Long. A calf, fair lady? No, a fair lord calf. No, I'll not be your half: Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. cry. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as As is the razor's edge invisible, Above the sense of sense: so sensible things. Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, music, and attendants. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.-Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Kath. Yes, in good faith. Qualm, perhaps. Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.3 But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. (3) Better wits may be found among citizens. Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels veiling clouds, or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless? gear; And wonder what they were; and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us. Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when God doth please: King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what wert thou, Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! Prin. Fair, in all hail, is fout, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose now To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your VOW: Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ; The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear. We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. King. How, madam? Russians? Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Ros. Madam, speak true :-It is not so, my lord; My lady (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit: here they stayed an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Biron. This jest is dry to me-Fair, gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet eye, Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Biron. mand you this? Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad? Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale?Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out ?— Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; (5) The tooth of the horse-whale. And I will wish thee never more to dance, Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend;1 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: I do forswear them: and I here protest, By this white glove, (how white the hand, God Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude Some fair excuse. Prin. The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd? King. Madam, I was. Prin. And were you well advis'd? When you then were here, King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re- King. Upon mine honour, no. Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my I never swore this lady such an oath. Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :What; will you have me, or your pearl again? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain, I see the trick on't ;-Here was a consent? Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick [To Boyet. Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue? Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? Boyet. Full merrily hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,— Is not nine. Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir. Biron. How much is it? Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir. Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy: but I am to stand for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. some care. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit Costard. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the king's and his Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Enter Armado. Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [Armado converses with the King, and delivers him a paper. Prin. Doth this man serve God? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight. Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander ;— Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. Biron. Pompey the great, Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown monarch: for, I protest, the school-master is ex-Alisander the conqueror? You will be scraped out ceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal A-jax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, couplement ! [Exit Armado. and afeard to speak! run away for shame, AlisanKing. Here is like to be a good presence of wor- der. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you; thies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for AlisanMachabæus. der, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted:But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, other five. Biron. There is five in the first show. Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein. amain. [Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c. Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter Costard arm'd, for Pompey. Cost. I Pompey am, Cost. I Pompey am, You lie, you are not he. With libbard's head on knee. Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee. Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,- Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam'd the That oft in field, with large and shield, did make my foe to sweat: And, travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France. If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, 1 had done. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. "Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy. Enter Nathaniel arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might: Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter Holofernes arm'd, for Judas, and Moth canus ; And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Quoniam, he seemeth in minority, Keep some state in thy erit, and vanish. [Ex. Moth. Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.- Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas. Hol. Judas I am,— Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion. And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun- tenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. (4) An ornamental buckle for fastening hatbands, &r. Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all. Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him :- Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been baited! Long. That mint. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector. Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword :-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Dum. Most resolute Pompey! lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hote the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me: I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge. I Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome Mer. God save you, madam! But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthics, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath; I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; King. How fares your majesty ? sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will for-King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. ward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the Prin- Prin. Prepare, I say.-I thank you, gracious cess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. lords, [Biron whispers Costard. For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much de-Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe lighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not by the yard. In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,-Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord! Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : gone; she is two months on her way. the Arm. What meanest thou? Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, King. The extreme parts of time extremely form poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the All causes to the purpose of his speed; And often, at his very loose, decides child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten-That which long process could not arbitrate: And though the mourning brow of progeny tates? thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jacque-Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, netta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pom-The holy suit which fain it would convince; pey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey! Boyet. Renowned Pompey! Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost, Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great, Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, (3) A clown. (4) Clothed in wool, without linen. (5) Free to excess. |