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Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, | As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill
Sole imperator, and great general

Of trotting paritors,t-O my little heart!-
And I to be a corporal of his field,

And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and

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[ill.

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no
Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-
sovereignty

Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may
To any lady that subdues a lord. [afford

Enter COSTARD.

Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

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? Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so ; truth is truth.

[wit, An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my 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 one lady Rosaline. .

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine; [carve;

Stand aside, good bearer.--Boyet, you can

Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his Break up this capon.t

horse so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.

Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind.

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch; On Saturday we will return to France.

Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush, That we must stand and play the murderer in? For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;

A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot. Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot. For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say, no?

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe! For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now; [brow. Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the Here, good my glass, take this for telling true; [Giving him money. Fair payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that which you in

herit.

Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by O heresy in fair, fit for these days! [merit. A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.

But come, the bow:-Now mercy goes to kill,
And 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,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to
kill.

And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes; [part,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward
We bend to that the working of the heart:

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Boyet. I am bound to serve.—

This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; It is writ to Jaquenetta.

[ear.

Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give 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 Zenelophon; 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 enrich'd; 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 lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rugs? robes; For tittles, titles; For thyself, me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

Thine, in the dearest design of industry, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey;

Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den. *God give you good even. +Open this letter.

t Illustrious.

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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?
Cost. From my lord to my lady.
Prin. From which lord, to which lady?
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of
mine,

To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine anoth-
er 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.
Ros. Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!

thou marry,

Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if [carry. Hang me by the neck, if horns that year misFinely put on!

Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet. And who is your deer?

Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself:

come 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 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. Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot,

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

both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A mark, says my lady!

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.

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Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her

fan!

To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' will swear!— [wit! And his page o' t' other side, that handful of Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical hit! Sola, sola!

[Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD, running.

SCENE II.-The same.

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 san guis,-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, 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 Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!

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, that we thankful should be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,

Mar. Wide of the bow hand! I'faith your So, were there a patcht set on learning, to see

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.

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Dull. What is Dictynna?
Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.
Hol. The moon was a month old, when
Adam was no more;

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, 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;

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.

tuan! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Manof 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 What, my soul, verses? contents? or, rather, as Horace says in his

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,

Which, not to anger bent, is music, and

sweet fire.

[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, figures, 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. Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and erous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odori 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 salateth us.

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to you?

of the strange queen's lords.
Juq. Ay, Sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snow-white hund 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, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, [To DULL.] I do invite you too; you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are 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, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright

Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee,

So ridest thou triumphing in my woe; Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through thy grief will show: But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel! No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.— How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper;

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O sweet Maria, empress of my love!
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Biron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on
wanton Cupid's hose:

Disfigure not his slop.
Long. This same shall go.-

[He reads the sonnet.
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye
('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,)
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but, I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My row was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vous are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost
shine,
Exhal'st this vapour vow: in thee it is:

If broken then, it is no fault of mine; If by me broke, What fool is not so wise, To lose an oath to win a paradise?

Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity;

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.

Long. By whom shall I send this ?-Company! stay. [Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play:

Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish; [dish!

Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a Dum. O most divine Kate!

Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [Aside. Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal

eye!

Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there [Aside.

you lie.

coted.*

Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber

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[Steps aside.

must shine.

[Aside.

Dum. O that I had my wish!

Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?

* In truth.

* Outstripped, surpassed.

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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,
Spied a blossom, pussing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passuge find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack, my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee:

Thou for whom even Jove would swear,
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
This will I send; and something else more
plain,

That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
O, would the King, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Long. Dumain, [Advancing.] thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

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
[fashion;

blush.

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 re

prove

These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears,
There is no certain princess that appears:
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to Le thus much o'ershot?
You found his mote; the king your mote did
But I a beam do find in each of three. [see;
O, what a scene of foolery I have seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!*
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critict Timon laugh at idle toys!

Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumain?
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:-
A caudle, ho!

King. Too bitter is thy jest.

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 pruningt 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

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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,
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you

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