Arm. Some enigma, some .ddle: come,-thy rance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing P'envoy; begin. but this: Bear this significant to the country-maid Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; [Giving him in the mail, sir: Ó, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; money.] for the best ward of mine honour, is, reno l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain ! warding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit. Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: Ŏ, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for Penvoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve? adieu. Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony2 Jew![Exit Moth. Now will I look to his remuneration. RemuneraMoth. Do the wise think them other? is not tion! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: Penvoy a salve? Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it: The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. There's the moral: Now the l'envoy. Moth. I will add the l'envoy: Say the moral| again. Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three: Arm. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four. Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; Would you desire more? Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat: Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose. Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin? Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then call'd you for the l'envoy. Cost. True, and I for a plantain; Thus came] your argument in; Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; And he ended the market. Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin? Moth. I will tell you sensibly. Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy:— I. Costard, running out, that was safely within, Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedomning thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound. three farthings-remuneration.-What's the price of this inkle? a penny:—No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it.-Remuneration!why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word. Enter Biron. Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing. Cost. When would you have it done, sir? Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well. Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this ; The princess comes to hunt here in the park, name, And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; Cost. Guerdon,-O sweet guerdon! better than Cost. True, true; and now you will be my pur-And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! gation, and let me loose. Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from du (1) An old French term for concluding verses, which served either to convey the moral, or to address the poem to some person. (2) Delightful. (3) Reward. What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife! (4) With the utmost exactness. Still a repairing; ever out of frame; With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; so hard ACT IV. Against the steep uprising of the hill? [Exit. Enter Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he. Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch; Enter Costard, Prin. Here comes a member of the common. wealth. Cost. God dig-you-den' all! Pray you, which is the head lady? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest? Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One of these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here. Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will? Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to ore lady Rosaline. Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine: Stand aside, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve ; SCENE I-Another part of the same. the Princess, Rosaline, María, Katharine, Boyet, Boyet. Lords, attendants, and a Forester. I am bound to serve.This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse It is writ to Jaquenetta. Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenélophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king; Why did he come? to see; Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar: The conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's: the captive is enriched; On whose side? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a nuptial; On whose side? the king's-no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav❜d by merit. Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat O heresy in fair, fit for these days! thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for O short-liv❜d pride! Not fair? alack for wo! Fair payment for foul words is more than due. A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.-rags ? robes; For tittles, tilles: For thyself, me. But comc, the bow:-Now mercy goes to kill, A shooting well is then accounted ill. Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: Not wounding, pity would not let me do't; If wounding, then it was to show my skill, Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy Thine, in the dearest design of industry, That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar And, out of question, so it is sometimes; The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford God give you good even. Open this letter. (3) Illustrious. 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play: Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better? Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er il erewhile.+ (4) Just now, Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps]When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it here in court; were, so fit. And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit! A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty man! Come, lords, away. Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day. [Exit Princess and Train. Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor ? Ros. Shall I teach you to know? Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty. Why, she that bears the bow. Ros. Finely put off! Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Ros. Well then, I am the shooter. near. Finely put on, indeed! Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow. Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now? Ros. Shall I come upon the with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it. [Singing. Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, [Exeunt Ros. and Kath. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it! SCENE II.-The same. [Shouting within. [Exit Costard, running. Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull. Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience. Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of calo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth. Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,-after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or ratherest, uncon firmed fashion-to insert again my haud credo for a deer. Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo ; 'twas a pricket. Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus !-0 thou monster ignorauce, how deformed dost thou look! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not cat paper as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts; And such barren plants are set before us, that we (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him both did hit it. in a school: Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the mark, says my lady! Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be. Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith, your hand is out. Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout. Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the prin- Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful cess kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to huinour prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine kill'd, a pricket. Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility. The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty| pleasing pricket; Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket; Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting. If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; sore L! 0 Of one sore I a hundred make, by adding but one more L. eyes; Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend: If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend: All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder; (Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire ;) Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue! Nath. A rare talent! Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here him with a talent. are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovia foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, dius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: so doth memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater; and the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired deilver'd upon the mellowing of occasion: But the horse his rider.-But damosella virgin, was this gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am directed to you? Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of thankful for it. Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so the strange queen's lords. may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the by you, and their daughters profit very greatly un-snow-white hand the most beauteous Lady Rosader you: you are a good member of the common-line. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, wealth. for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them: But, vir sapit, qui| pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. Jaq. God give you good morrow, master person. Hol. Master parson,-quasi pers-on. And if one should be pierced, which is the one? Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead. Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well. Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it. Hol. Fauste, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne Ruminal, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia. Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege, domine. Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall swear to love? I Your ladyship's in all desired employment, BIRON. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.royal hand of the king; it may concern much: Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu! Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.-Sir, God save your life! Cost. Have with thec, my girl. [Exeunt Cost, and Jaq. very religiously; and, as a certain father saithNath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses; Did they please you, sir Nathaniel? Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall text) is the happiness of life. cludes it.-Sir, [To Dull.] I do invite you too; you Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty gentles are at their game, and we will to our vowed! recreation. [Exeunt. (1) Horse adorned with ribbands. (2) In truth. Biron, with a paper. A This same snall go.- SCENE III —Another part of the same. Enter These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. Biron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am Disfigure not his slop. Cupid's hose: coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am Long. toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. ('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,) Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad Persuade my heart to this false perjury? as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well proved again on my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will not. O, but her eye,by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, do love and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in: Here comes one with a paper; God give him grace to groan! [Gets up into a tree. Enter the King, with a paper. King. Ah me! Biron. [Aside.] Shot, by heaven!-Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:-l'iaith secrets. King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, Through the transparent bosom of the deep, So ridest thou triumphing in my wo: And they thy glory through thy grief will show : Enter Longaville, with a paper. What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. Long. Ah me! I am forsworn. woman I forswore, but, I will prove, If broken then, it is no fault of mine; Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which Enter Dumain, with a paper. Long. By whom shall I send this?-Company! [Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play: stav. Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [Aside. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. Dum. As upright as the cedar. Her shoulder is with child. As fair as day. [Aside. Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must Long. And I had mine! [Aside. King. And I mine too, good Lord! Aside. Biron. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? [Aside. Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she [Aside. Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then incision Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wear ing papers. King. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in shame! [Aside. [Aside. Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name? Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision! Long. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so? Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know: Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity. Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move: O sweet Maria, empress of my love! (1) Outstripped, surpassed. |