Suf. His love. What? 120 Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. Suf. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, And have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam, are ye so content? Mar. An if my father please, I am content. Suf. Then call our captains and our colors forth. And, madam, at your father's castle walls See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner! Suf. Reig. To me. Suffolk, what remedy? I am a soldier, and unapt to weep, Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: Consent, and for thy honor give consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto; 12 And this her easy-held imprisonment Command in Anjou what your honor pleases. Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king: Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going. Suf. Farewell, sweet madam: but hark you, Margaret; No princely commendations to my king? Mar. Such commendations as becomes a maid, A virgin and his servant, say to him. Suf. Words sweetly placed and modestly directed. But, madam, I must trouble you again; 180 Mar. Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I send the king. Suf. And this withal. [Kisses her Mar. That for thyself: I will not so pre sume To send such peevish tokens to a king. [Exeunt Reignier and Margaret Suf. O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay; 190 Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth; Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with won. SCENE IV. Camp of the DUKE OF YORK Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others. York. Bring forth that sorceress condemn'd to burn. Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd. Shep. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright! Have I sought every country far and near, Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee! Puc. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch ! I am descended of a gentler blood: Thou art no father nor no friend of mine. Shep. Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so; 10 I did beget her, all the parish knows : York. This argues what her kind of life hath been, Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. Shep. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle ! God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; 20 Puc. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man, Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest The morn that I was wedded to her mother. Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time Of thy nativity! I would the milk Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast, Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake! Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee ! [Exit. York. Take her away; for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities. Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd: Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, 50 Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. Spare for no faggots, let there be enow: Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? CO Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought: Is all your strict preciseness come to this? York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling: I did imagine what would be her refuge. War. Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live; 70 Especially since Charles must father it. of his : leave my curse : May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode; But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you, till mischief and despair 10 Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves! [Exit, guarded. York. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell! Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, Bishop of Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence broils, Have earnestly implored a general peace Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; 110 Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ? It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON, Bastard, REIGNIER, and others. Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by yourselves The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, 120 Car. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: That, in regard King Henry gives consent, 130 Alen. Must he be then as shadow of himself? Adorn his temples with a coronet, Char. 'Tis known already that I am possess'd With more than half the Gallian territories, York. Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret means Used intercession to obtain a league, Of benefit proceeding from our king Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy And therefore take this compact of a truce, Although you break it when your pleasure SCENE V. London. The palace. Enter SUFFOLK in conference with the KING, GLOUCESTER and EXETER. King. Your wondrous rare description, noble earl, Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me : Is but a preface of her worthy praise; 21 King. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists Her father is no better than an earl, Suf Yes, my lord, her father is a king, 40 Glou. And so the Earl of Armagnac may do. Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. Suf. A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your king, That he should be so abject, base and poor, And not to seek a queen to make him rich : 60 But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? Will answer our hope in issue of a king: If with a lady of so high resolve As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. me That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. King. Whether it be through force of you report, My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, Agree to any covenants, and procure As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, king; But I will rule both her. the king and realm. [Exit. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. (WRITTEN ABOUT 1590.) INTRODUCTION. This play is supposed to be wholly of Shakespeare's own invention, no source of the plot hav ing been discovered. It is precisely such a one as a clever young man might imagine, who had come lately from the country-with its "daisies pied and violets blue," its "merry larks," its maidens who "bleach their summer smocks," its pompous parish schoolmaster, and its dull constable (a great public official in his own eyes) to the town, where he was surrounded by more brilliant unrealities, and affectation of dress, of manner, of language, and of ideas. Love's Labour's Lost is a dramatic plea on behalf of nature and common sense against all that is unreal and affected. It maintains, in a gay and witty fashion, the superiority of life, as a means of education, over books; the superiority of the large world into which we are born over any little world we can construct for ourselves, and into which we may hedge ourselves by rule; and, while maintaining this, it also asserts that we must not educate ourselves only by what is mirthful and pleasant in the world, but must recognize its sorrow, and that we cannot be rightly glad without being grave and earnest. Thus, with its ap parent lightness, there is a serious spirit underlying the play; but the surface is all jest, and stir, and sparkle. It is a comedy of dialogue rather than of incident, and in the persons of Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical Spaniard, of Sir Nathaniel the curate, and of Holofernes the schoolmaster, are caricatured various Elizabethan absurdities of speech, pseudo-refinement, and pseudo-learning. The braggart soldier and the pedant are characters well known in Italian comedy, and perhaps it was from that quarter that the hint came to Shakespeare, which stirred his imagination to create these ridiculous figures. Holofernes, some persons have supposed to be a satirical sketch of John Florio, author of an Italian dictionary; but Shakespeare did not in any ascertained instances satirize individual persons, and there is little evidence in this case to warrant the supposition. The play con tains nothing which serves to indicate its precise date, but it certainly belongs to Shakespeare's earliest dramatic period. The first quarto edition was published in 1598, "as it was presented before her Highness [Queen Elizabeth] this last Christmas [probably the Christmas of 15981, Newly cor rected and augmented." Two traces of the alterations from the original play may still be observed. In Act V. sc. II., the lines 827-832 ought not to appear, being almost certainly the fragment of the play in its first form which was afterwards marked out in the lines 833-879. Similarly, in Biron's great speech, Act IV. sc. III., the lines 296-317 contain passages which are repeated or altered in the lines which follow (318-354), and obviously some of the lines in the original version have here been retained through a mistake. |