« AnteriorContinuar »
I should bave feared her, had she been a devil.” Biron. “Once to behold,” rogue.
- with your sun-beamed eyes
You were best call it daughter-beamed eyes. Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me Cry'd " Via! we will do't, come what will come :'
out. The third he caper'd, and cried, “ All goes well :" Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, you rogue. The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
Ros. What would these strangers ? know their minds, With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
Boyet. With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
That some plain man recount their purposes. To check their folly, passion's sudden tears.
Know what they would. Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us ? Boyet. What would you with the princess ? Boyet. They do, they do ; and are apparel'd thus,- Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess,
Ros. What would they, say they? Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance;
Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. And every one his love-suit will advance
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. Unto his several mistress ; which they'll know
Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone. By favours several which they did bestow.
King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd; To tread a measure with her on this grass. For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd,
Boyet. They say, that they have measur'd many a mile, And not a man of them shall have the grace, To tread a measure with you on this grass. Despite of suit, to see a lady's face.
Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inches Hold Rosaline; this favour thou shalt wear,
Is in one mile ? if they have measur'd many,
And many miles, the princess bids you tell,
Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
How many weary steps, Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs : Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, They do it but in mockery, merriment;
Are number'd in the travel of one mile ? And mock for mock is only my intent.
Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you: Their several counsels they unbosom shall
Our duty is so rich, so infinite, To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal,
That we may do it still without accompt. Upon the next occasion that we meet,
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, With visages display'd, to talk, and greet.
That we, like savages, may worship it. Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't? Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot: King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace ; Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. (Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyne. Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's Ros. O, vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; heart,
Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. And quite divorce his memory from his part.
King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one Prin. Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt,
change. The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out.
Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown; Ros. Play, music, then! nay, you must do it soon. To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
[Music plays. So shall we stay, mocking intended game;
Not yet;—no dance:thus change I like the moon. And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. King. Will you not dance ? How come you thus
[Trumpets sound within. estranged ? Boyet. The trumpet sounds : be mask’d, the maskers Ros. You took the moon atfull, but now she's changed.
[The Ladies mask. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. Exter the King, Biron, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, The music plays : vouchsafe some motion to it.
in Russian habits, and masked; Moth, Musicians, Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. and Attendants.
But your legs should do it. Moth. “ All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!” Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by Biron. Beauties no richer than rich taffata.
chance, Moth. “ A holy parcel of the fairest dames, We'll not be nice. Take hands :-we will not dance.
[The Ladies turn their backs to him. King. Why take we hands then ? That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views !”
Only to part friends. Bison.“ Their eyes,” villain, “their eyes.' Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
Moth. “That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! King. More measure of this measure : be not nice. | Out-"
Ros. We can afford no more at such a price, Boyet. True: “out,” indeed.
King. Prize you yourselves? What buys your comMoth. “Out of your favours, heavenly spirits,
Ros. "Your absence only. Not to behold".
That can never be.
Please it you,
Ros. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; Twice to your visor, and half once to you !
And trow you, what he call’d me? King. If you deny to dance, let's höld more chat. Prin.
Qualm, perhaps. Ros. In private then.
Kath. Yes, in good faith. King. I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart.
Go, sickness as thou art ! Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. thee.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar: there are three. Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice) Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Metheglin, wort, and malmsey.-Well run, dice ! Mar. Dumaine is mine, as sure as bark on tree. There's half a dozen sweets.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear. Prin.
Seventh sweet, adieu. Immediately they will again be here Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. In their own shapes; for it can never be, Biron. One word in secret.
They will digest this harsh indignity. Prin.
Let it not be sweet. Prin. Will they return ? Biron. Thou griev’st my gall.
They will, they will, God knows; Prin.
Gall ? bitter. And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows :
Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Mar.
Say you so ? Fair lord. Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Take that for your fair lady.
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. Dum.
Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
If they return in their own shapes to woo ?
[They converse apart. Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue? Let's mock them still, as well, known, as disguis'd. Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Let us complain to them what fools were here, Kath. O, for your reason ! quickly, sir; I long. Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And wonder, what they were, and to what end And would afford my speechless visor half.
Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman.—Is not veal a And their rough carriage so ridiculous, calf ?
Should be presented at our tent to us. Long. A calf, fair lady?
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand. Kath. No, a fair lord calf.
Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. Long. Let's part the word.
[Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Kath.
I'll not be your half: Enter the King, Biron, LONGAVILLE, and Dumaine, Take all, and wean it: it may prove an ox.
in their proper habits. Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? mocks.
Boyet. Gone to her tent: please it your majesty, Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Command me any service to her thither? Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. Kath. Bleat softly then : the butcher hears you cry.
Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas,
[They converse apart. And utters it again when God doth please. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen He is wit’s pedler, and retails his wares As is the razor's edge invisible,
At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy :
, mad wenches: you have simple wits. That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice [Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, Music, and Attendants. In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.- A mean most meanly; and, in ushering, Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Mend him who can : the ladies call him, sweet; Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. puffd out,
This is the flower that smiles on every one, Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. To show his teeth as white as whales bone; Prin. O, poverty in wit, kill'd by pure flout ! And consciences, that will not die in debt, Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night, Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ?
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. That put Armado's page out of his part ! Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases !
Enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; Rosaline, The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Maria, KATHARINE, and Attendants. Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
Biron. See where he comes !-Behaviour, what wert Mar. Dumaine was at my service, and his sword :
thou, No point, quoth I: my servant straight was mute. Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song;
Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should have I do forswear them; and I here protest, spoke,
By this white glove, (how white the hand, God For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
knows) Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd As the unsullied lily, I protest,
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes : A world of torments though I should endure, And, to begin, -wench, so God help me, la !
I would not yield to be your house's guest; My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Ros. Sans SANS, I pray you. Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
Yet I have a trick King. O! you have liv’d in desolation here, Of the old rage :-bear with me, I am sick; Unseen, unvisited; much to our shame.
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft! let us see:Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear : Write “ Lord have mercy on us” on those three;
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game. They are infected, in their hearts it lies; A mess of Russians left us but of late.
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes : King. How, madam! Russians ?
These lords are visited; you are not free, Prin.
Ay, in truth, my lord ; For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord: Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us. My lady (to the manner of these days)
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? We four, indeed, confronted were with four
Biron. Peace! for I will not have to do with you. In Russian habit : here they stay'd an hour,
Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
Biron. Speak for yourselves : my wit is at an end. They did not bless us with one happy word.
King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude trans I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
gression When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Some fair excuse. Biron. This jest is dry to me.-Fair, gentle sweet,
The fairest is confession. Your wit makes wise things foolish : when we greet, Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd ? With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye,
King. Madam, I was. B: light we lose light: your capacity
And were you well advis'd ? Is of that nature, that to your huge store
King. I was, fair madam. Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. Prin.
then were here, Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my What did you whisper in your lady's ear? eye,
King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.
Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, King. Upon mine honour, no. It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Peace! peace! forbear : Biron. O! I am yours, and all that I possess. Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. Ros. All the fool mine?
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. Biron.
I cannot give you less. Prin. I will; and therefore keep it.-Rosaline, Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore ? What did the Russian whisper in your ear? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear
As precious eye-sight, and did value me Ros. There, then, that visor ; that superfluous case, Above this world; adding thereto, moreover, That bid the worse, and show'd the better face. That he would wed me, or else die my lover. King. We are descried : they'll mock us now down- Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord right.
Most honourably doth uphold his word. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your high- I never swore this lady such an oath. ness sad?
Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, Ros. Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. Why You gave me this : but take it, sir, again. look you pale ?
King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give: Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for per- Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; jury.
And lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.-
Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.-
To dash it like a Christmas comedy.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of
a paper to him. Told our intents before ; which once disclos'd,
Prin. Doth this man serve God? The ladies did change favours, and then we,
Biron. Why ask you ? Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Prin. A' speaks not like a man of God's making. Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; We are again forsworn-in will, and error.
for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastiMuch upon this it is :--and might not you [To Boyet. cal; too, too vain; too, too vain : but we will put it, Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire, peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit ARMADO. And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
King. Here is like to be a good presence of WorAnd stand between her back, sir, and the fire, thies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, PomHolding a trencher, jesting merrily ?
pey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's You put our page out: go, you are allow'd ;
page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabeus. Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
These four will change habits, and present the other five. Wounds like a leaden sword.
Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceived ; 'tis not so.
Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, Biron. Lo! he is tilting straight. Peace! I have the fool, and the boy:done.
Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Enter Costarp armed, for Pompey. Whether the three Worthies shall come in, or no.
Cost. “ I Pompey am, Biron. What, are there but three ?
You lie, you are not he. Cost.
No, sir; but it is vara fine, Cost. “I Pompey am, For every one pursents three.
With libbard's head on knee. Biron.
And three times thrice is nine. Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir, I hope, it friends with thee. is not so.
Cost. "I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big," You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we Dum. The great. know what we know :
Cost. It is great, sir;-"Pompey surnam'd the great; I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my Biron.
Is not nine.
foe to sweat: Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it And travelling along this coast I here am come by doth amount.
chance, Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of
Cost. O Lord! sir, it were pity you should get your France." living by reckoning, sir.
If your ladyship would say, “Thanks, Pompey," I Biron. How much is it?
had done. Cost. O Lord ! sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own Cost. 'Tis not so much worth ; but, I hope, I was part, I am, as they say, but to pursent one man,-e'en perfect. I made a little fault in, “great.” one poor man-Pompion the great, sir.
Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies?
best Worthy. Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pom- Enter Sir NATHANIEL armed, for Alexander. pion the great: for mine own part, I know not the Nath. “When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
commander; Biron. Go, bid them prepare.
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir : we will take might:
[Exit Costard. My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander.". King. Biron, they will shame us; let them not ap- Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it proach.
stands too right. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tenderpolicy
smelling knight. To have one show worse than the king's and his com Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd.-Proceed, good pany.
Alexander. King. I say, they shall not come.
Nath. “When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now. commander;"That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: Boyet. Most true; 'tis right: you were so, Alisander. Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Biron. Pompey the great,
— Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Cost. Your servant, and Costard. Their form confounded makes most form in mirth; Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. When great things labouring perish in their birth. Cost. O! sir, [To Nath.) you have overthrown AliBiron. A right description of our sport, my lord. sander the conqueror. You will be scraped out of the Enter ARMADO.
painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his pollArm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he
will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afеard to Arm. “The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, speak? run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] Gave Hector a gift, There, an't shall please you: a foolish mild man; an Dum. A gift nutmeg. honest man, look you, and soon dash'd.
He is a mar
Biron. A lemon. vellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler; Long. Stuck with cloves. but, for Alisander, alas! you see, how 'tis ;-a little Dum. No, cloven. o'erparted.—But there are Worthies a coming will Arm. Peace! speak their mind in some other sort.
“The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, King. Stand aside, good Pompey. [Exit Costard. Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and Moth A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea, armed, for Hercules.
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
That columbine. And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs Quoniam, he seemeth in minority,
against Hector. Ergo, I come with this apology:
Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Exit Moth. Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten ; sweet Hol. “ Judas I am,
chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he Dum. A Judas!
breathed, he was a man.—But I will forward with my Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.
device. Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of " Judas I am, yclep'd Maccabeus."
hearing. Dum. Judas Maccabeus clipt is plain Judas. Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. Biron. A kissing traitor.—How art thou prov'd Judas? Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Hol. “ Judas I am,"
Boyet. Loves her by the foot. | Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Dum. He may not by the yard. Hol. What mean you, sir?
Arm. “ This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,"— Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Re-enter CoSTARD, in haste, unarmed. Hol. Begin, sir: you are my elder.
Cost. The party is gone: fellow Hector, she is gone; Biron. Well follow'd : Judas was hang'd on an elder. she is two months on her way. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Arm. What meanest thou ? Biron. Because thou hast no face.
Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the Hol. What is this?
poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags Boyet. A cittern head.
in her belly already: 'tis yours. Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates ? Biron. A death's face in a ring.
Thou shalt die. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd for Jaquenetta Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
that is quick by him, and hang'd for Pompey that is Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.
dead by him. Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch.
Dum. Most rare Pompey! Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
Boyet. Renowned Pompey! Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great PomAnd now forward, for we have put thee in countenance. pey! Pompey the huge ! Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. False : we have given thee faces.
Biron. Pompey is moved.-More Ates, more Ates ! Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
stir them on ! stir them on ! Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Dum. Hector will challenge him. Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. Biron. Ay, if a' have no more man's blood in's And so adieu, sweet Jude ! nay, why dost thou stay? belly than will sup a flea. Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Biron. For the ass to the Jude? give it him :- Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern Jud-as, away.
man : I'll slash ; I'll do it by the sword.—I pray you, Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. let me borrow my arms again. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas ! it grows dark, Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies ! he may stumble.
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. Prin. Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been baited! Dum. Most resolute Pompey ! Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector.
Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles : here comes Hector Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat ? in arms.
What mean you ? you will lose your reputation. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will now be merry.
not combat in my shirt. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made Boyet. But is this Hector ?
the challenge. King. I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd. Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Long. His leg is too big for Hector's.
Biron. What reason have you for't ? Dum. More calf, certain.
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. go woolward for penance. Biron. This cannot be Hector.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore