# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/Loves Labour's lost/Act 5

Actus Quartus.
Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.
Pedant.
Satis quid sufficit.
Curat.
I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho.
Ped.
Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat, as I may call it.
Curat.
A most singular and choise Epithat,
Draw out his Table-booke.
Peda.
He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe: halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to make franticke, lunaticke?
Cura.
Laus deo, bene intelligo.
Peda.
Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil serue.
Enter Bragart, Boy.
Curat.
Vides ne quis venit?
Peda.
Video, & gaudio.
Brag.
Chirra.
Peda.
Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
Brag.
Men of peace well incountred.
Ped.
Most millitarie sir salutation.
Boy.
They haue beene at a great feast of Languages, and stolne the scraps.
Clow.
O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of words. I maruell thy M. hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon.
Page.
Peace, the peale begins.
Brag.
Mounsier, are you not lettred?
Page.
Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
Peda.
Ba, puericia with a horne added.
Pag.
Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare his learning.
Peda.
Quis quis, thou Consonant?
Pag.
The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them, or the fift if I.
Peda.
I will repeat them: a e I.
Pag.
The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u.
Brag.
Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick & home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit.
Page.
Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is wit-old.
Peda.
What is the figure? What is the figure?
Page.
Hornes.
Peda.
Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy Gigge.
Pag.
Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne.
Clow.
And I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard; What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to, thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say.
Peda.
Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem.
Brag.
Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse on the top of the Mountaine?
Peda.
Or Mons the hill.
Brag.
At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine.
Peda.
I doe sans question.
Bra.
Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection, to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone.
Ped.
The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you sir, I doe assure.
Brag.
Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar, I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head: and among other importunate & most serious designes, and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world) sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier, a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation, or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke: Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to the end to craue your assistance.
Peda.
Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
Curat.
Where will you finde men worthy enough to present them?
Peda.
Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the Page Hercules.
Brag.
Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of his Club.
Peda.
Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose.
Pag.
An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few haue the grace to doe it.
Brag.
For the rest of the Worthies?
Peda.
I will play three my selfe.
Pag.
Thrice worthy Gentleman.
Brag.
Shall I tell you a thing?
Peda.
We attend.
Brag.
We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I beseech you follow.
Ped.
Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this while.
Dull.
Nor vnderstood none neither sir.
Ped.
Alone, we will employ thee.
Dull.
Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play
on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey.
Ped.
Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away. Exit.
Enter Ladies.
Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in. A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I haue from the louing King.
Rosa.
Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Qu.
Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime, As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all, That he was faine to seale on Cupids name.
Rosa.
That was the way to make his god-head wax: For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy.
Kath.
I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too.
Ros.
You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister.
Kath.
He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long.
Ros.
What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light word?
Kat.
A light condition in a beauty darke.
Ros.
We need more light to finde your meaning out.
Kat.
You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe: Therefore Ile darkely end the argument.
Ros.
Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke.
Kat.
So do not you, for you are a light Wench.
Ros.
Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light.
Ka.
You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me.
Ros.
Great reason: for past care, is still past cure.
Qu.
Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played. But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too? Who sent it? and what is it?
Ros.
I would you knew. And if my face were but as faire as yours, My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this. Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbring too. I were the fairest goddesse on the ground. I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. O he hath drawne my picture in his letter.
Qu.
Any thing like?
Ros.
Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
Qu.
Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion.
Kat.
Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke.
Ros.
Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor, My red Dominicall, my golden letter. O that your face were full of Oes.
Qu.
A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes: But Katherine, what was sent to you From faire Dumaine?
Kat.
Madame, this Gloue.
Qu.
Did he not send you twaine?
Kat.
Yes Madame: and moreouer, Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer. A huge translation of hypocrisie, Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie.
Mar.
This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile. The Letter is too long by halfe a mile.
Qu.
I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short.
Mar.
I, or I would these hands might neuer part.
Quee.
We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so.
Ros.
They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe. O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke, How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke, And wait the season, and obserue the times, And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes, And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice, And make him proud to make me proud that iests. So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state, That he shold be my foole, and I his fate.
Qu.
None are so surely caught, when they are catcht, As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd: Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole, And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?
Ros.
The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse, As grauities reuolt to wantons be.
Mar.
Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note, As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote: Since all the power thereof it doth apply, To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
Enter Boyet.
Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face.
Boy.
O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?
Qu.
Thy newes Boyet?
Boy.
Prepare Madame, prepare. Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are, Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd: Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd. Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence, Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence.
Qu.
Saint Dennis to S. Cupid: What are they, That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say.
Boy.
Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore, I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre: When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest, Toward that shade I might behold addrest, The King and his companions: warely I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare: That by and by disguis'd they will be heere. Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page: That well by heart hath con'd his embassage, Action and accent did they teach him there. Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare. And euer and anon they made a doubt, Presence maiesticall would put him out: For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see: Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously. The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill: I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill. With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder, Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder. One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore, A better speech was neuer spoke before. Another with his finger and his thumb, Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come. The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well. The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell: With that they all did tumble on the ground, With such a zelous laughter so profound, That in this spleene ridiculous appeares, To checke their folly passions solemne teares.
Que.
But what, but what, come they to visit vs?
Boy.
They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus, Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse. Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance,
And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance, Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow.
Queen.
And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt: For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt, And not a man of them shall haue the grace Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face. Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare, And then the King will court thee for his Deare: Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine, So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline. And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues.
Rosa.
Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight.
Kath.
But in this changing, What is your intent?
Queen.
The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs: They doe it but in mocking merriment, And mocke for mocke is onely my intent. Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall, To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall. Vpon the next occasion that we meete, With Visages displayd to talke and greete.
Ros.
But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't?
Quee.
No, to the death we will not moue a foot, Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace: But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face.
Boy.
Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart, And quite diuorce his memory from his part.
Quee.
Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt, The rest will ere come in, if he be out. Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne: To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne. So shall we stay mocking entended game, And they well mockt, depart away with shame. Sound.
Boy.
The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers come.
Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the rest of the Lords disguised.
Page.
All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth.
Ber.
Beauties no richer then rich Taffata.
Pag.
A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd their backes to mortall viewes. The Ladies turne their backes to him.
Ber.
Their eyes villaine, their eyes.
Pag.
That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes. Out
Boy.
True, out indeed.
Pag.
Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe Not to beholde.
Ber.
Once to behold, rogue.
Pag.
Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes, With your Sunne beamed eyes.
Boy.
They will not answer to that Epythite, You were best call it Daughter beamed eyes.
Pag.
They do not marke me, and that brings me out.
Bero.
Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue.
Rosa.
What would these strangers? Know their mindes Boyet. If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will That some plaine man recount their purposes. Know what they would?
Boyet.
What would you with the Princes?
Ber.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros.
What would they, say they?
Boy.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Rosa.
Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon.
Boy.
She saies you haue it, and you may be gon.
Kin.
Say to her we haue measur'd many miles, To tread a Measure with you on the grasse.
Boy.
They say that they haue measur'd many a mile, To tread a Measure with you on this grasse.
Rosa.
It is not so. Aske them how many inches Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie, The measure then of one is easlie told.
Boy.
If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles, And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell, How many inches doth fill vp one mile?
Ber.
Tell her we measure them by weary steps.
Boy.
She heares her selfe.
Rosa.
How manie wearie steps, Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone, Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?
Bero.
We number nothing that we spend for you, Our dutie is so rich, so infinite, That we may doe it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face, That we (like sauages) may worship it.
Rosa.
My face is but a Moone and clouded too.
Kin.
Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do. Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine, (Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne.
Rosa.
O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter, Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water.
Kin.
Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change. Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange.
Rosa.
Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone. Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone.
Kin.
Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
Rosa.
You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's changed?
Kin.
Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man.
Rosa.
The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to it: Our eares vouchsafe it.
Kin.
But your legges should doe it.
Ros.
Since you are strangers, & come here by chance, Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance.
Kin.
Why take you hands then?
Rosa.
Onelie to part friends. Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends.
Kin.
More measure of this measure, be not nice.
Rosa.
We can afford no more at such a price.
Kin.
Prise your selues: What buyes your companie?
Rosa.
Your absence onelie.
Kin.
That can neuer be.
Rosa.
Then cannot we be bought: and so adue, Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you.
Kin.
If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat.
Ros.
In priuate then.
Kin.
I am best pleas'd with that.
Be.
White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee.
Qu.
Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three.
Ber.
Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice: There's halfe a dozen sweets.
Qu.
Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg, Ile play no more with you.
Ber.
One word in secret.
Qu.
Let it not be sweet.
Ber.
Thou greeu'st my gall.
Qu.
Gall, bitter.
Ber.
Therefore meete.
Du.
Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
Mar.
Name it.
Dum.
Faire Ladie:
Mar.
Say you so? Faire Lord: Take you that for your faire Lady.
Du.
Please it you, As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu.
Mar.
What, was your vizard made without a tong?
Long.
I know the reason Ladie why you aske.
Mar.
O for your reason, quickly sir, I long.
Long.
You haue a double tongue within your mask, And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe.
Mar.
Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a Calfe?
Long.
A Calfe faire Ladie?
Mar.
No, a faire Lord Calfe.
Long.
Let's part the word.
Mar.
No, Ile not be your halfe: Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe.
Long.
Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe mockes. Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so.
Mar.
Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow.
Lon.
One word in priuate with you ere I die.
Mar.
Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry.
Boyet.
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the Razors edge, inuisible: Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene, Aboue the sense of sence so sensible: Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings, Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things
Rosa.
Not one word more my maides, breake off, breake off.
Ber.
By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe.
King.
Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple wits. Exeunt.
Qu.
Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits. Are these the breed of wits so wondred at?
Boyet.
Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes puft out.
Rosa.
Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat.
Qu.
O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout. Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night? Or euer but in vizards shew their faces: This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite.
Rosa.
They were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
Qu.
Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite.
Mar.
Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword: No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute.
Ka.
Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart: And trow you what he call'd me?
Qu.
Qualme perhaps.
Kat.
Yes in good faith.
Qu.
Go sicknesse as thou art.
Ros.
Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps, But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne.
Qu.
And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me.
Kat.
And Longauill was for my seruice borne.
Mar.
Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree.
Boyet.
Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare, Immediately they will againe be heere In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be, They will digest this harsh indignitie.
Qu. Will they returne?
Boy.
They will they will, God knowes, And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes: Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire, Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire.
Qu.
How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood.
Boy.
Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud: Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne, Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne.
Qu.
Auant perplexitie: What shall we do, If they returne in their owne shapes to wo?
Rosa.
Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd. Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd: Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare, Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare: And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd: And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our Tent to vs.
Boyet.
Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
Quee.
Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.
Exeunt.
Enter the King and the rest.
King.
Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?
Boy.
Gone to her Tent. Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?
King.
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
Boy.
I will, and so will she, I know my Lord. Exit.
Ber.
This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease, And vtters it againe, when loue doth please. He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares, At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires. And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know, Haue not the grace to grace it with such show. This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue. Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue. He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he, That kist away his hand in courtesie. This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice, That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing A meane most meanly, and in Vshering Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete. The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete. This is the flower that smiles on euerie one, To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone. And consciences that wil not die in debt, Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet.
King.
A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart, That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
Enter the Ladies.
Ber.
See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou, Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
King.
All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day.
Qu.
Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue.
King.
Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Qu.
Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue.
King.
We came to visit you, and purpose now To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.
Qu.
This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow: Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men.
King.
Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
The vertue of your eie must breake my oth.
Q.
You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke: For vertues office neuer breakes men troth. Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yeeld to be your houses guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie.
Kin.
O you haue liu'd in desolation heere, Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame.
Qu.
Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare, We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game, A messe of Russians left vs but of late.
Kin.
How Madam? Russians?
Qu.
I in truth, my Lord. Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state.
Rosa.
Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord: My Ladie (to the manner of the daies) In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise. We foure indeed confronted were with foure In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre, And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord) They did not blesse vs with one happy word. I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke, When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke.
Ber.
This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete, Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie: By light we loose light; your capacitie Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore, Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore.
Ros.
This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie
Ber.
I am a foole, and full of pouertie.
Ros.
But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Ber.
O, I am yours, and all that I possesse.
Ros.
All the foole mine.
Ber.
I cannot giue you lesse.
Ros.
Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
Ber.
Where? when? What Vizard? Why demand you this?
Ros.
There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face.
Kin.
We are discried, They'l mocke vs now downeright.
Du.
Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest.
Que.
Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes sadde?
Rosa.
Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke you pale? Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie.
Ber.
Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury. Can any face of brasse hold longer out? Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit: And I will wish thee neuer more to dance, Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite. O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue. Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue, Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise, Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection; Figures pedanticall, these summer flies, Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation. I do forsweare them, and I heere protest, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows) Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes. And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law, My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,
Rosa.
Sans, sans, I pray you.
Ber.
Yet I haue a tricke Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke. Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three, They are infected, in their hearts it lies: They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These Lords are visited, you are not free: For the Lords tokens on you do I see.
Qu.
No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs.
Ber.
Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs.
Ros.
It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue.
Ber.
Peace, for I will not haue to do with you.
Ros.
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Ber.
Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end.
King.
Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression, some faire excuse.
Qu.
The fairest is confession. Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
Kin.
Madam, I was.
Qu.
And were you well aduis'd?
Kin.
I was faire Madam.
Qu.
When you then were heere, What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
King.
That more then all the world I did respect her
Qu.
When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect her.
King.
Vpon mine Honor no.
Qu.
Peace, peace, forbeare: Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare.
King.
Despise me when I breake this oath of mine.
Qu.
I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your eare?
Ros.
Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare As precious eye-sight, and did value me Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer, That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer.
Qu.
God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord Most honorably doth vphold his word.
King.
What meane you Madame? By my life, my troth I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth.
Ros.
By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine, You gaue me this: But take it sir againe.
King.
My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue, I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue.
Qu.
Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare. And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare. What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
Ber.
Neither of either, I remit both twaine. I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas Comedie. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie, Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;
Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she. Now to our periurie, to adde more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie? And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie? You put our Page out: go, you are alowd. Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd. You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie Wounds like a Leaden sword.
Boy.
Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere bene run.
Ber.
Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
Enter Clowne.
Clo.
O Lord sir, they would kno, Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
Ber.
What, are there but three?
Clo.
No sir, but it is vara fine, For euerie one pursents three.
Ber.
And three times thrice is nine.
Clo.
Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir.
Ber.
Is not nine.
Clo.
Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it doth amount.
Ber.
By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine.
Clow.
O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your liuing by reckning sir.
Ber.
How much is it?
Clo.
O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir.
Ber.
Art thou one of the Worthies?
Clo.
It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of the Worthie, but I am to stand for him.
Ber.
Go, bid them prepare.Exit.
Clo.
We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some care.
King.
Berowne, they will shame vs: Let them not approach.
Ber.
We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his companie.
Kin.
I say they shall not come.
Qu.
Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how. Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents: Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.
Enter Braggart.
Brag.
Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words.
Qu.
Doth this man serue God?
Ber.
Why aske you?
Qu.
He speak's not like a man of God's making.
Brag.
That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde most royall cupplement.
King.
Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey the great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites, and present the other fiue.
Ber.
There is fiue in the first shew.
Kin.
You are deceiued, tis not so.
Ber.
The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the Foole, and the Boy, Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe, Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine.
Kin.
The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.
Enter Pompey.
Clo.
I Pompey am.
Ber.
You lie, you are not he.
Clo.
I Pompey am.
Boy.
With Libbards head on knee.
Ber.
Well said old mocker, I must needs be friends with thee.
Clo.
I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big.
Du.
The great.
Clo.
It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great: That oft in field, with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat: And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance, And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of France. If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done.
La.
Great thankes great Pompey.
Clo.
Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in great.
Ber.
My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie.
Enter Curate for Alexander.
Curat.
When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander: By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander.
Boiet.
Your nose saies no, you are not: For it stands too right.
Ber.
Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight.
Qu.
The Conqueror is dismaid: Proceede good Alexander.
Cur.
When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander.
Boiet.
Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander.
Ber.
Pompey the great.
Clo.
your seruant and Costard.
Ber.
Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander
Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth fo
this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort. Exit Cu.
Qu.
Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
Ped.
Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie, Ergo, I come with this Apologie. Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish. Exit Boy.
Ped.
Iudas I am.
Dum.
A Iudas?
Ped.
Not Iscariot sir. Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus.
Dum.
Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.
Ber.
A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?
Ped.
Iudas I am.
Dum.
The more shame for you Iudas.
Ped.
What meane you sir?
Boi.
To make Iudas hang himselfe.
Ped.
Begin sir, you are my elder.
Ber.
Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder.
Ped.
I will not be put out of countenance.
Ber.
Because thou hast no face.
Ped.
What is this?
Boi.
A Citterne head.
Dum.
The head of a bodkin.
Ber.
A deaths face in a ring.
Lon.
The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene.
Boi.
The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion.
Dum.
The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske.
Ber.
S. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch.
Dum.
I, and in a brooch of Lead.
Ber.
I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
Ped.
You haue put me out of countenance.
Ber.
False, we haue giuen thee faces.
Ped.
But you haue out-fac'd them all.
Ber.
And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so.
Boy.
Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go: And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
Dum.
For the latter end of his name.
Ber.
For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iud-as away.
Ped.
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
Boy.
A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he may stumble.
Que.
Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene baited.
Enter Braggart.
Ber.
Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in Armes.
Dum.
Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merrie.
King.
Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.
Boi.
But is this Hector?
Kin.
I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd.
Lon.
His legge is too big for Hector.
Dum.
More Calfe certaine.
Boi.
No, he is best indued in the small.
Ber.
This cannot be Hector.
Dum.
He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.
Brag.
The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a gift.
Dum.
A gilt Nutmegge.
Ber.
A Lemmon.
Lon.
Stucke with Cloues.
Dum.
No clouen.
Brag.
The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion; A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea From morne till night, out of his Pauillion. I am that Flower.
Dum.
That Mint.
Long.
That Cullambine.
Brag.
Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue.
Lon.
I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against Hector.
Dum.
I, and Hector's a Grey-hound.
Brag.
The sweet War-man is dead and rotten, Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried: But I will forward with my deuice; Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.
Berowne steppes forth.
Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted.
Brag.
I do adore thy sweet Graces slipper.
Boy.
Loues her by the foot.
Dum.
He may not by the yard.
Brag.
This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.
The partie is gone.
Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths on her way.
Brag.
What meanest thou?
Clo.
Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly alreadie: tis yours.
Brag.
Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die.
Clo.
Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him.
Dum.
Most rare Pompey.
Boi.
Renowned Pompey.
Ber.
Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey. Pompey the huge.
Dum.
Hector trembles.
Ber.
Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre them on.
Dum.
Hector will challenge him.
Ber.
I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea.
Brag.
By the North-pole I do challenge thee.
Clo.
I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe.
Dum.
Roome for the incensed Worthies.
Clo.
Ile do it in my shirt.
Dum.
Most resolute Pompey.
Page.
Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what
meane you? you will lose your reputation.
Brag.
Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt.
Du.
You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the challenge.
Brag.
Sweet bloods, I both may, and will.
Ber.
What reason haue you for't?
Brag.
The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt, I go woolward for penance.
Boy.
True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour.
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.
Mar.
God saue you Madame.
Qu.
Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment.
Marc.
I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father
Qu.
Dead for my life.
Mar.
Euen so: My tale is told.
Ber.
Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud.
Brag.
For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
Exeunt Worthies
Kin.
How fare's your Maiestie?
Qu.
Boyet prepare, I will away to night.
Kin.
Madame not so, I do beseech you stay.
Qu.
Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirits, If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so easily obtain'd.
Kin.
The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the purpose of his speed: And often at his verie loose decides That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue: The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so wholsome profitable, As to reioyce at friends but newly found.
Qu.
I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double.
Ber.
Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors Euen to the opposed end of our intents. And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied obiect in his glance: Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies, Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities. Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace.
Qu.
We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue. And in our maiden counsaile rated them, At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As bumbast and as lining to the time: But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment.
Du.
Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest.
Lon.
So did our lookes.
Rosa.
We did not coat them so.
Kin.
Now at the latest minute of the houre, Grant vs your loues.
Qu.
A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me. Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning. If this austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue, But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of the yeare, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Raining the teares of lamentation, For the remembrance of my Fathers death. If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the others hart.
Kin.
If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie. Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest.
Ber.
And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
Ros.
You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd. You are attaint with faults and periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke.
Du.
But what to me my loue? but what to me?
Kat.
A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie, With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three.
Du.
O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?
Kat.
Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,
Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say. Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some.
Dum.
Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath.
Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen.
Lon.
What saies Maria?
Mari.
At the tweluemonths end, Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend.
Lon.
Ile stay with patience: but the time is long.
Mari.
The liker you, few taller are so yong.
Ber.
Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eie: What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me for my loue.
Ros.
Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes, Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wit. To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Ber.
To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie.
Ros.
Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation.
Ber.
A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall, Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall.
Qu.
I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue.
King.
No Madam, we will bring you on your way.
Ber.
Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie.
Kin.
Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day, And then 'twil end.
Ber.
That's too long for a play.
Enter Braggart.
Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me.
Qu.
Was not that Hector?
Dum.
The worthie Knight of Troy.
Brag.
I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew.
Kin.
Call them forth quickely, we will do so.
Brag.
Holla, Approach.
Enter all.
This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle, Th' other by the Cuckow. Ver, begin.
The Song.
And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew: And Ladie-smockes all siluer white, Do paint the Medowes with delight. The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mockes married men, for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare. When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes, And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes: When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes: The Cuckow then on euerie tree Mockes married men; for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare.
Winter.
And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile; And Tom beares Logges into the hall, And Milke comes frozen home in paile: When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle Tu-whit to-who.
A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
When all aloud the winde doth blow, And coffing drownes the Parsons saw: And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marrians nose lookes red and raw: When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle, Tu-whit to-who:
A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
Brag.
The Words of Mercurie, Are harsh after the songs of Apollo: You that way; we this way.
Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
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