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Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many,
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.
Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded 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 [Music plays. Not yet;-no dance :-thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you 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.
We'll not be nice: take hands;-we will not dance.
Ros. Your absence only. King.
That can never be.
Ros. Then cannot we be bought and so adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you! King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Ros. In private then. King.
I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word
Say you so? Fair lord,
Take that for your fair lady. Dum.
Please it you,
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
[They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
And would afford my speechless visor half.
No, a fair lord calf.
No, I'll not be your half: Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you [They converse apart. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invisible, 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! King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
[Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, music, and attend
Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.-Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.
Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross fat, fat.
Prin. O 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. Ros. O they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point,2 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?
Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin.
Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statutecaps.3
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Birón 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
(3) Better wits may be found among citizens.
In their own shapes; for it can never be,
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 veiling clouds, or roses blown.
Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo?
Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless2 gear; And wonder what they were; and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us.
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand.
Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.
[Exeunt Princess, 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 me any service to her thither? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one
Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
And utters it again when God doth please:
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what
Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
(1) Features, countenances. (2) Uncouth.
King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose now
To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke;
The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke;
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear. We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. King. How, madam? Russians?
Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Ros. Madam, speak true :---It is not so, my lord; My lady (to the manner of the days,6) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Biron. This jest is dry to me—] -Fair, gentle
sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, Is of that nature, that to your huge store By light we lose light: Your capacity Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my
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. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
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; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
(5) The tooth of the horse-whale.
And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,
Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend ;1
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
By this white glove, (how white the hand,
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens
And were you well advis'd? King. I was, fair madam.
see the trick on't;-Here was a consent3
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some
That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we
I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,-
When you then were here,
Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will
King. Upon mine honour, no.
Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear
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;
Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
Is not nine.
Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for
Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.
Biron. How much is it?
actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount:
Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?
Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of the degree of the worthy: but I am to stand for him. Pompion the great: for mine own part, I know not Biron. Go, bid them prepare.
Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit Costard. King. Birón, 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
King. I say, they shall not come.
Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how || My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander.
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. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling 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.
Biron. Pompey the great,
Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away
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 school-master is ex- Alisander the conqueror? You will be scraped out Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown ceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal A-jax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, couplement ! King. Here is like to be a good presence of wor-der. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you; [Exit Armado.and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisanthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for AlisanMachabæus. But there are worthies a coming will speak their der, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted mind in some other sort.
And if these four worthies in their first show thrive,
Biron. There is five in the first show.
Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world
Cannot prick2 out five such, take each one in his vein.
[Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c. Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter Costard arm'd for Pompey.
Cost. I Pompey am,
Cost. I Pompey am,
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,-
Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam'd the
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:
And, travelling along this coast, I here am 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 1 liv'd, I was the|| world's commander;
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:
Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.
Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus:
Dum. A Judas!
Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.-
Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas.
Hol. Judas I am,—
Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol. What mean you, sir?
Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Boyet. A cittern head.
Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce
Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
(4) An ornamental buckle for fastening hat-
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him :
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle,not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble.
Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been
Enter Armado arm'd, for Hector.
Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
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.
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea|
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 lighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Dum. He may not by the yard.
Pompey! Pompey the huge!
Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates,2 more Ates; stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly 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.
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.
Biron. What reason have you for't?
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; go woolward for penance.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.
Mer. God save you, madam!
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father— Prin. Dead, for my life.
Mer. Even so; my tale is told.
Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath:
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,Cost. 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.
tates? thou shalt die.
King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten-That which long process could not arbitrate:
Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pom-The holy suit which fain would convince;
pey that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost,
Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
(2) Ate was the goddess of discord.
(3) A clown. (4) Clothed in wool, without linen. (5) Free to excess.