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Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear | cludes it. To DULL. Sir, 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.
110 Ah! never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd; Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow'd.
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
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 is dreadful
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O! pardon love this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly
Hol. You find not the apostrophas, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing; so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, 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: Your ladyship's in all desired employment, Berowne. Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne 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, 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.
Ho. 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 con
SCENE III.-The Same. Enter BEROWNE, with a paper.
Beroune. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitched a toil; defile! a foul word. Well, sit thee down, sorrow! I am toiling in a pitch,--pitch that defiles 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 o' 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 rime, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rime, 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
Enter the KING, with a paper.
King. Ay me!
Berowne. Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid: thou hast thumped him with thy birdbolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets! King.
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 20 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 my 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:
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? Steps aside. What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.
Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper. Berowne. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
Long. Ay me! I am forsworn. Berowne. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame!
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
If broken, then it is no fault of mine:
Berowne. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
Dum. On a day, alack the day!
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear
This will I send, and something else more plain,
Berowne. This is the liver-vein, which makes For none offend where all alike do dote.
flesh a deity;
A green goose a goddess; pure, pure idolatry.
Long. By whom shall I send this ?-Company!
Enter DUMAINE, with a paper.
Long. Advancing. Dumaine, thy love is far
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
King. Advancing. Come, sir, you blush; as his
Dumaine transform'd: four woodcocks in a dish! And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. Dum. O most divine Kate!
I heard your guilty rimes, observ'd your fashion,
To DUMAINE. And Jove, for your love, would
What will Berowne say when that he shall hear
I would not have him know so much by me. 150
0! what a scene of foolery have I seen,
Too bitter is thy jest.
Berowne. Not you to me, but I betray'd by you:
Soft! Whither away so fast?
Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.
Jaq. God bless the king!
What present hast thou there? Cost. Some certain treason.
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Fie, painted rhetoric! O! she needs it not :
What makes treason here? 19 A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,
Where hadst thou it?
Gives him the paper.
Berowne. 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.
Dum. Picking up the pieces. It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name. Beroune. To COSTARD. Ah! you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame. Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess. King. What?
Beroune. That you three fools lack'd me, fool,
He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I,
Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA.
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
No face is fair that is not full so black.
O! if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns that painting and usurping hair
For native blood is counted painting now;
King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion
Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is
Beroune. Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.
Berowne. I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.
King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. Long. Showing his shoe. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face sce.
Berowne. O! if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. Dum. O vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies
The street should see as she walk'd overhead. King. But what of this? Are we not all in love? Berowne. Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.
King. Then leave this chat; and, good Berowne, now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil. Long. O! some authority how to proceed; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. Dum. Some salve for perjury.
Why, universal plodding prisons up
| A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
For valour, is not Love a Hercules,
Berowne. Advance your standards, and upon
Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis'd,
Long. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by:
Some entertainment for them in their tents.
Beroune. First, from the park let us conduct them thither;
310 Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te : his humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
Nath. A most singular and choice epithet.
Draws out his table-book. Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt,-d, e, b, t, not d, e, t; he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abbreviated ne. This is abhominable, which he would call abominable, it insinuateth me of insanie: anne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.
Nath. Laus Deo, bone intelligo.
Hol. Bone? bone for bene: Priscian a little scratched; 'twill serve.
Enter ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD. Nath. Videsne quis venit?
Hol. Video, et gaudeo.
Arm. To MоTH. Chirrah!
Hol. Quare chirrah, not sirrah?
Arm. Men of peace, well encountered.
Moth. They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. 40
Cost. O! they have lived long on the almsbasket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon,
Moth. Peace! the peal begins.
Arm. To HOLOFERNES. Monsieur, are you not lettered?
Moth. Yes, yes, he teaches boys the horn-book. What is a, b, spelt backward with the horn on his head?
Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added. Moth. Ba! most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning.
Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant?
I will whip about your infamy circum circa. A gig of a cuckold's horn!
Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou should'st have it to buy gingerbread. Hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father would'st thou make me. Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' ends, as they say.
Hol. O! I smell false Latin; dunghill for
Arm. Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.
Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir; I do assure.
Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good friend. For what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy head; and among other importunate and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let that pass; for I must tell thee, it will please his grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement, with my mustachio: but, sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world: but let that pass. The very all of all is, but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy, that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antick, or fire-work. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.
Hol. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior
Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you of this day, to be rendered by our assistance, repeat them; or the fifth, if I.
at the king's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman; before the princess, I say, none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.