Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter? What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear better? Boyet. I am much deceived, out I remember the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.* Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; [sport A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes To the prince, and his book-mates. Prin. Thou, fellow, a word: Who gave thee this letter? Cost. I told you; my lord. Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it? To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine anoth- Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if Ros. Well then, I am the shooter. Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come near. Finely put on, indeed!— Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and hit her now? Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? Biron. 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. An I cannot, another can. [Exeunt Ros. and KATH. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it! Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if 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 hand is in. Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleav. ing the pin. Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul. Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir; challenge her to bowl. * Just now. Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit! When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. [man! Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty To see him kiss his hand! and how most [Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD, running. SCENE II.-The same. Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and 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 cœlo,-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, ostenture, to show, as it were, his inclination,-after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion,to insert again my haud credo for a deer. Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket. O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat 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, tha. we thankful should be (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those So, were there a patcht set on learning, to see wind. Dull. What is Dictynna? And raught not to five weeks, when he came to fivescore. The allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange. Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess 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, sore with shooting. till now made The dogs did yell; put I 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; O sore L! Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more L. Nath. A rare talent! Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent. Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice: -Vinegia, Vinegia, Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia. Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.-Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.-Under pardon, Sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Horace says in hisWhat, my soul, verses? Nath. Ay, Sir, and very learned. Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege, domine. Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine 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, sweet fire. Which, not to anger bent, is music, and [wrong, Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue! Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, igures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so motions, revolutions: these are begot in the miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the of piu mater; and deliver'd upon the mellow-elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, ing of occasion: But the gift is good in those caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it. indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriNath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and ferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? so may my parishioners; for their sons are Imitari, is nothing: so doth the hound his well tutor❜d by you, and their daughters profit master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his very greatly under you: you are a good mem-rider. But damosella virgin, was this directed ber of the commonwealth. 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 per son. Hol. Master person, 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 one sub umbrâ * Reached to you? Jaq. Ay, Sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords. Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: BIRON. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of Your Ladyship's in all desired employment, the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidently, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.-Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the 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 thee, my girl. [Exeunt COST. and JAQ. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith * Horse adorned with ribands. 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. Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry wit, nor invention: I beseech your society. Nath. And thank you too: for society, (saith the text,) is the happiness of life. Hol. And, cetes, the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, [To DULL.] I do invite you too; you shall not ay me, nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles as at their game, and we will to our recreation. [Exeunt. SCENE III-Another part of the same. Enter BIRON with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, Set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad 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, I 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:-I'faith secrets.King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, Through the transparent bosom of the deep, So ridest thou triumphing in my woe; And they thy glory through thy grief will show: paper; Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes [He reads the sonnet, Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye If broken then, it is no fault of mine; Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way. Enter DUMAIN, with a paper. Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [Aside. eye! * In truth. * Outstripped, surpassed Long. And I had mine! King. And I mine too, good Lord! [Aside. [Aside. Biron. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? 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 ion! Would let her out in saucers; Sweet mispris[Aside. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. Dum. On a day, (alack the day!) [Aside. Love, whose month is ever May, Thou for whom even Jove would swear, This will I send; and something else more plain, That shall express my true love's fasting pain. Long. Dumain, [Advancing.] thy love is far That in love's grief desir'st society: King. Come, Sir, [Advancing.] you blush; as his your case is such; You chide at him, offending twice as much : You do not love Maria; Longaville Did never sonnet for her sake compile ; Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart His loving bosom, to keep down his heart. I have been closely shrouded in this bush, And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. [fashion; I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion: Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries; One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes: You would for paradise break faith and troth; [TO LONG. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [TO DUMAIN. What will Birón say, when that he shall hear A faith infring'd, which such a zeal did swear? How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit? How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it? For all the wealth that ever I did see, I would not have him know so much by me. Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me : [Descends from the tree. Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove | Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears, A caudle, hoy liege's? all about the breast: Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view? Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you, I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in ; I am betray'd, by keeping company With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time In pruning me? When shall you hear that I Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb? King. Soft; Whither away so fast? A true man, or a thief, that gallops so? Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go. Where hadst thou it? Jaq. Of Costard. [Giving him the letter. King. Where hadst thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it? Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs not fear it. Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it. name. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To COSTARD.] you were born to do me shame. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. King. What?" Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess: He, he, and you, my liege, and I, more. Dum. Now the number is even. * Grief. † Cynic. + In trimming myself. Biron. True, true; we are four :- Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood will not obey an old decree: We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, Át the first opening of the gorgeous east, My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,- A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. No face is fair, that is not full so black. And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of lights. O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt, It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, Her favour turns the fashion of the days; black. Long. And, since her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colours should be wash'd [away. King. "Twere good, yours did; for, Sir to tell you plain, I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms day here. King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so Long. Look, here's thy love: my foot and [tread! Biron. O, nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn. King. Then leave this chat; and, good Birón now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there;-some flattery for this evil. * Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the Long. O, some authority how to proceed; devil. Dum. Some salve for perjury. Biron. O, 'tis more than need?- look? [fire. For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Law-chicane. |