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Berowne. Would that do it good ?

To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire : Ros. My physic says 'ay.'

His heart, like an agate, with your print impressid, Berouně. Will yon prick 't with your eye? Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd: Ros. No, point, with my knife.

His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, Beroune. Now, God save thy life!

Did stumble with ħaste in his eyesight to be ; Ros. And yours from long living!

All senses to that sense did make their repair, Beroune. I cannot stay thanksgiving: To feel only looking on fairest of fair.

Retiring. Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word : what lady is As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; that same ?

Who, tend'ring their own worth from where they Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Katharine her name. were glass'd, Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.

Eril. His face's own margent did quote such amazes, Long. I beseech you a word : what is she in That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. the white ?

I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his, Boyít. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss, the light.

Prin. Come to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos'd. Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire Boyet. But to speak that in words which his her name.

eye hath disclos'd. Boyet. She hath but one for herself ; to desire | I only have made a mouth of his eye, that were a shame.

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?

Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.

skilfully. Long. God's blessing on your beard !

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather and learns Boyct. Good sir, be not offended.

news of him. She is an heir of Falconbridge.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother, for her Long. Nay, my choler is ended.

father is but grim. She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? Boyct. Not unlike, sir ; that may be.



What then, do you see? Bcrowne. What's her name in the cap?

Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet. Rosaline, by good hap.


You are too hard for me, Berowne. Is she wedded or no ?

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.
Berowne. You are welcome, sir. Adieu.

Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
Exit BEROWNE. Ladice unmuask.

SCENE I.— The King of Nararre's Park. Mar. That last is Berowne, the merry mad

Enter ARMADO and MOTH. Not a word with him but a jest.

Arm. Warble, child: make passionate my Boyet.

And every jest but a word. sense of hearing. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at


Singing. his word.

Concolind Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was Arm. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years ; to board.

take this key, give enlargement to the swain, Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry !

bring him festinately hither; I must employ him Boyet.

And wherefore not ships? in a letter to my love. No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Moth. Master, will you win your love with a Mar. You sheep, and I pasture: shallthat finish French brawl ? the jest ?

Arm. How meanest thou ? brawling in French ? Boyct. So you grant pasture for me.

Mot'. No, my complete master : but to jig off

Offering to kiss her. a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your Mar.

Not so, gentle beast. feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, My lips are no common, though several they be. sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through Boyct. Belonging to whom?

the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing Mar.

To my fortunes and me. love, sometime through the nose, as if you Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, snuffed up love by smelling love ; with your hat agree.

penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes ; with This civil war of wits were much better usd your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet like On Navarre and his book-men, for here'tis abus'd. | á rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, Boyct. If my observation, which very seldom like a man after the old painting; and keep not lies,

too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, are complements, these are humours, these betray Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. nice wenches, that would be betrayed without Prin. With what?

20 these; and make them men of note,-do you Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle note me!--that most are affected to these. affected.

Arm. How hast thou purchased thisexperience! Prin. Your reason ?

Moth. By my penny of observation. Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their Arm. But 0,--but 0,retire

Moth. “The hobby-horse is forgot.'

cap lord :







Årm. Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse'? Moth. I will add the l'enroy. Say the moral

Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a again. colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have Arm. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee, you forgot your love?

Were still at odds, being but three. Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Until the goose came out of door, Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.

And stay'd the odds by adding four. Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow Moth. And out of heart, master: all those with my l'envoy. three I will prove.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Arm. What wilt thou prove ?

Were still at odds, being but three. Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and Arm. Until the goose came out of door, without, upon the instant : by heart you love

Staying the odds by adding four. her, because your heart cannot come by her ; in Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose. heart you love her, because your heart is in love Would you desire more? with her; and out of heart you love her, being Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.

that's flat. Arm. I am all these three.

Sir, your pennyworth is good an your goose be Moth. And three times as much more, and yet

fat. nothing at all.

To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and Arm. Fetch hither the swain : he must carry

loose: me a letter.

Let me see; a fat l'enroy; ay, that 's a fat Moth. A message well sympathized : a horse goose. to be ambassador for an ass,

Arm. Come hither, come bither. How did Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

this argument begin ? Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon Moth. By saying that a costard was broken the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. in a shin. Arm. The way is but short : away!

Then call'd you for the l'enroy. Moth. As swift as lead, sir,

Cost. True, and I for a plantain : thus came Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?

your argument in ; Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? 60 Then the boy's fat l'enroy, the goose that you Moth. Minime, honest master; or rather, mas. bought ; ter, no.

And he ended the market. Arm. I say lead is slow.

Arm. But tell me; how was there a costarci Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so : | broken in a shin? Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun? Moth. I will tell you sensibly. Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric !

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will Hereputes me a cavnon; and the bullet, that's he: speak that l'envoy : I shoot thee at the swain.

I, Costard, running out, that was safely Moth. Thump then, and I flee.


Exit. Fell over the threshold and broke my Arm. A most acute juvenal ; volable and free

shin, of grace!

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. 120 By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy Cost. Till there be more matter in the ship. face :

Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. Cost. O! marry me to one Frances : I smell My herald is return'd.

some l'envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD.

at liberty, enfreedoming thy person : thou wert Moth. A wonder, master! here's a costard immured, restrained, captivated, bound. broken in a shin.

Cost. True, true, and now you will be my Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy purgation and let me loose. l'enroy ; begin.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durCost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy! no salve ance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing in the mail, sir. O! sir, plantain, a plain plantain: but this : bear this significant Gives a letter no l'enroy, no l'envoy: no salve, sir, but a plantain. to the country maid Jaquenetta. There is re

Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy muneration ; for the best ward of mine honour silly thought, my spleen ; the heaving of my is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. Inngs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: 0! par

Erit. don me, my stars. Doth the inconsiderate take Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, salve for l'enroy, and the word l'envoy for a salve ? adieu.

Joth, Do the wise think them other ? is not Cost. My sweet ounce of man's fesh! my l'encoy a salve?

incony Jew!

Erit MOTH. Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, Now will I look to his remuneration. Reto make plain

muneration ! O! that's the Latin word for Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been three farthings: three farthings, remuneration. sain.

“What's the price of this inkle ?' 'One penny': I will example it :

No, I'll give you a remuneration': why, it The fox, the ape, and the humble-bec, carries it. Remuneration! why it is a fairer

Were still at odds, being but three. name than French crown. I will never buy and There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.

sell out of this word,



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Berowne. And I


Forsooth in love! I, that have been love's whip;
A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rimes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general


Of trotting 'paritors: 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 wightly 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 groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.




SCENE I.-The King of Navarre's Park. Enter the PRINCESS, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester.

Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he. Prin. Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch;
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. Hereby, 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. 12 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.
Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
Gives money.


Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you in-
Prin. See, see! my beauty will be sav'd by
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!

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,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward


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One o' 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 Berowne to one Lady Rosaline.

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

Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon.


I am bound to serve. This letter is mistook; it importeth none here: It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear. 59 Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. 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 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 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 rags? 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.

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Exeunt ROSALINE and KATHARINE. 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.

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 upshoot by cleaving 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.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl. Exeunt BOYET and MARIA. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! 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.


Armado o' the one side, O! a most dainty man, To see him walk before a lady, and to bear hier fan!

To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly | old; and I say beside that, 'twas a pricket that a' will swear!

the princess killed.


Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer and, to humour the ignorant, call I the deer the princess killed, 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 preyful princess piere'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;

And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!
Ah! heavens, it is a most pathetical nit.
Sola, sola!
Shouting within. 150
Exit COSTARD, running.

SCENE II.-The Same.

Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly and done in the testimony of a good conscience.


Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.

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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.

Hol. Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus! O! thou monster Ignorance, how deform'd 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, 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,


So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:

But, omnebene, say I; being of an old Father's mind,
Many can brook the weather that love not the


Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell

me by your wit

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?

Ilol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.

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;



Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting.

If sore be sore, then Lto sore makes fifty sores one sord. 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.

Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.

and I am thankful for it.


Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.

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Venetia, Venetia,


And raught not to five weeks when he came to


Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange, for the moon is never but a month

Chi non ti vede, non pretia.

The allusion holds in the exchange.

Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed: the collusion holds in Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, the exchange. rather, as Horace says in his--What, my soul, verses?

Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse: lege, domine.

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