Boyet. They say that they have measur'd many a mile, To tread a measure with you on this grass. Ros. It is not so: ask them, how many inches Boyet. If, to come hither, you have measur'd miles, Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. How many weary steps, Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you. Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. Bos. My face is but a moon, and clonded too. King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine (Those clouds remov'd) upon our wat'ry eyne. Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure, do but vouchsafe one change: Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then: nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays Not yet;-no dance :-thus change I, like the moon King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estrang'd? Ros. You took the moon at full; but now she's chang'd. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Cur ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance. We'll not be nice: take hands;-we will not dance. King. Why take we hands then? Ros. Only to part friends: Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. Ros. We can afford no more at such a price King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your company? Ros. Your absence only. King. That can never be. Ros. Then cannot we be bought and so adieu; King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with Fair lady,Take that for your fair lady. Dum. Say you so? Fair lord, Please it you, As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. [They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kath. Oh! for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman;-Is not veal a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady? Kath. No, a fair lord calf. Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the sense of sense: so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! Kino. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music, and Attendants. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breath puff'd out. Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. Prin. Oh! poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves, to-night? Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. Ro8. Oh! they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And trow you what he call'd me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes; for it can never be, They will digest this harsh indignity. Prin. Will they return? Boyet. They will, they will, God knows: And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows. Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in the summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt PRIN. ROS. KATH. and MARIA. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty, Command we any service to her thither? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will, and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as piegons peas; And utters it again when God doth please; He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve: He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he, That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; Long. Look how you butt yourself in these sharp This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, Long. Let's part the word. Kath. No, I'll not be your half: Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. mocks! That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what wert Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. Rebuke me not, for that which you prov ke. spoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. A world of torments though I should endure, King. Oh! you have liv'd in desolation here, Ay, in truth, my lord; Ros. Madam, speak true:-It is not so, my lord; In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, Is of that nature, that to your huge store Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad? Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale? Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: I do forswear them; and I here protest, By this white glove, (how white the hand, God knows!) Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes: Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd? King. Upon mine honour, no. Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my I never swore this lady such an oath. Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; Bruise me with scorn; confound me with a flout; Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,—e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir. Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy; but I am to stand for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit COSTARD. some care. King. Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the king's and his company. King. I say they shall not come. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how : Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents, 'Their form confounded makes most form in mirth; When great things labouring perish in their birth. Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers him a paper. Prin. Doth this man serve God? Biron. Why ask you? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit ARMADO. King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five. Biron. There is five in the first show. King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so. Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy : Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world again, Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein. King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. [Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c. Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter COSTARD arm'd, for Pompey. Cost. I Pompey am,—— Boyet. Cost. I Pompey am,—— Boyet. You lie, you are not he. With libbard's head on knee. Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee. Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,Dum. The great. Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam'd the great; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat: And travelling along this coast, I am here come by chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France. If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey. I had done. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. "Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy. Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might; My 'scutcheon plain declares that I am Alexander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tendersmelling knight. Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander ; Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander Cost. sander. Cost. O sir, [To NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires. There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis; a little o'erparted:-But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort. Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and MOTH armed, for HERCULES. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minority; Ergo, I come with this apology. Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Exit MOTH. Hol. Judas I am, Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, Sir. Judas I am, yecleped Machabæus. Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt is plain Judas. Biron. A kissing traitor:-How art thou prov'd Judas? Hol. Judas I am, Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. Hol. What mean you, sir? Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder. Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hung on an elder. Hol. What is this? Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Biron. A death's face in a ring. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer: And now, forward; for we have put thee in counte nance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him :-Jud-as, away. Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble. [baited! Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. King. Hector was hut a Trojan in respect of this. Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. Biron. This cannot be Hector. Dum. He's a god or a painter: for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift. Dum. A gilt nutmeg. Biron. A lemon. Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. Peace. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea, I am that flower, Dum. Long. That mint. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector. Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the PRINCESS.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted HannibalCost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way. Arm. What meanest thou? Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector he whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey ! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey, Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Prin. Dead, for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. I Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath : have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. King. The extreme parts of time extremely form And often, at his very loose, decides That which long process could not arbitrate: Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, The holy suit which fain it would convince; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief: And by these badges understand the king. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, To every varied object in his glance: Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly And, in our maiden council, rated them than will sup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword:-I pray you let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge. Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome, for Mer. God save you, madam. At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, But more devout than this, in our respects, Have we not been; and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment. Dum. Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros. Prin. Change not your offer made in the heat of blood: Come, challenge, challenge me by these deserts, And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine, For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-a beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Dum. Oh! shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Come, when the king doth to my lady come: Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again, Long. What says Maria? Mar. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day To enforce the pained impotent to smile. Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death! It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Of him that hears it; never in the tongue Deaf'd with the clamour of their own dear groans, Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the KING. King. No madam: we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,- Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough, for her sweet love, three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? It should have followed in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly; we will do so. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others. This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. SONG. I. Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, II. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, III. Winter. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, To-whit, to-who, a merry note, When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And Marion's nose looks red and raw, To-whit, to-who, a merry note, Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt. ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice. BASSANIO, his Friend. SALANIO, SALARINO, Friends to Antonio and Bassanio. GRATIANO, LORENZO, in love with Jessica. SHYLOCK, a Jew. TUBAL, a Jew, his friend. LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to Shylock. |