Love's Labour's Lost

1Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,

2Live register'd upon our brazen tombs

3And then grace us in the disgrace of death;

4When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,

5The endeavor of this present breath may buy

6That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge

7And make us heirs of all eternity.

8Therefore, brave conquerors,--for so you are,

9That war against your own affections

10And the huge army of the world's desires,--

11Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:

12Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;

13Our court shall be a little Academe,

14Still and contemplative in living art.

15You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville,

16Have sworn for three years' term to live with me

17My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes

18That are recorded in this schedule here:

19Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your names,

20That his own hand may strike his honour down

21That violates the smallest branch herein:

22If you are arm'd to do as sworn to do,

23Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.

24I am resolved; 'tis but a three years' fast:

25The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:

26Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits

27Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.

28My loving lord, Dumain is mortified:

29The grosser manner of these world's delights

30He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:

31To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die;

32With all these living in philosophy.

33I can but say their protestation over;

34So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,

35That is, to live and study here three years.

36But there are other strict observances;

37As, not to see a woman in that term,

38Which I hope well is not enrolled there;

39And one day in a week to touch no food

40And but one meal on every day beside,

41The which I hope is not enrolled there;

42And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,

43And not be seen to wink of all the day--

44When I was wont to think no harm all night

45And make a dark night too of half the day--

46Which I hope well is not enrolled there:

47O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,

48Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep!

49Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.

50Let me say no, my liege, an if you please:

51I only swore to study with your grace

52And stay here in your court for three years' space.

53You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.

54By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.

55What is the end of study? let me know.

56Why, that to know, which else we should not know.

57Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense?

58Ay, that is study's godlike recompense.

59Come on, then; I will swear to study so,

60To know the thing I am forbid to know:

61As thus,--to study where I well may dine,

62When I to feast expressly am forbid;

63Or study where to meet some mistress fine,

64When mistresses from common sense are hid;

65Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath,

66Study to break it and not break my troth.

67If study's gain be thus and this be so,

68Study knows that which yet it doth not know:

69Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.

70These be the stops that hinder study quite

71And train our intellects to vain delight.

72Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,

73Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain:

74As, painfully to pore upon a book

75To seek the light of truth; while truth the while

76Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:

77Light seeking light doth light of light beguile:

78So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,

79Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.

80Study me how to please the eye indeed

81By fixing it upon a fairer eye,

82Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed

83And give him light that it was blinded by.

84Study is like the heaven's glorious sun

85That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks:

86Small have continual plodders ever won

87Save base authority from others' books

88These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights

89That give a name to every fixed star

90Have no more profit of their shining nights

91Than those that walk and wot not what they are.

92Too much to know is to know nought but fame;

93And every godfather can give a name.

94How well he's read, to reason against reading!

95Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding!

96He weeds the corn and still lets grow the weeding.

97The spring is near when green geese are a-breeding.

98How follows that?

99Fit in his place and time.

100In reason nothing.

101Something then in rhyme.

102Biron is like an envious sneaping frost,

103That bites the first-born infants of the spring.

104Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast

105Before the birds have any cause to sing?

106Why should I joy in any abortive birth?

107At Christmas I no more desire a rose

108Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;

109But like of each thing that in season grows.

110So you, to study now it is too late,

111Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate.

112Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: adieu.

113No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:

114And though I have for barbarism spoke more

115Than for that angel knowledge you can say,

116Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore

117And bide the penance of each three years' day.

118Give me the paper; let me read the same;

119And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.

120How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!

121[Reads] 'Item, That no woman shall come within a

122mile of my court:' Hath this been proclaimed?

123Four days ago.

124Let's see the penalty.

125'On pain of losing her tongue.' Who devised this penalty?

126Marry, that did I.

127Sweet lord, and why?

128To fright them hence with that dread penalty.

129A dangerous law against gentility!

130'Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman

131within the term of three years, he shall endure such

132public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.'

133This article, my liege, yourself must break;

134For well you know here comes in embassy

135The French king's daughter with yourself to speak--

136A maid of grace and complete majesty--

137About surrender up of Aquitaine

138To her decrepit, sick and bedrid father:

139Therefore this article is made in vain,

140Or vainly comes the admired princess hither.

141What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot.

142So study evermore is overshot:

143While it doth study to have what it would

144It doth forget to do the thing it should,

145And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,

146'Tis won as towns with fire, so won, so lost.

147We must of force dispense with this decree;

148She must lie here on mere necessity.

149Necessity will make us all forsworn

150Three thousand times within this three years' space;

151For every man with his affects is born,

152Not by might master'd but by special grace:

153If I break faith, this word shall speak for me;

154I am forsworn on 'mere necessity.'

155So to the laws at large I write my name:

156And he that breaks them in the least degree

157Stands in attainder of eternal shame:

158Suggestions are to other as to me;

159But I believe, although I seem so loath,

160I am the last that will last keep his oath.

161But is there no quick recreation granted?

162Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted

163With a refined traveller of Spain;

164A man in all the world's new fashion planted,

165That hath a mint of phrases in his brain;

166One whom the music of his own vain tongue

167Doth ravish like enchanting harmony;

168A man of complements, whom right and wrong

169Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:

170This child of fancy, that Armado hight,

171For interim to our studies shall relate

172In high-born words the worth of many a knight

173From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate.

174How you delight, my lords, I know not, I;

175But, I protest, I love to hear him lie

176And I will use him for my minstrelsy.

177Armado is a most illustrious wight,

178A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.

179Costard the swain and he shall be our sport;

180And so to study, three years is but short.

181Which is the duke's own person?

182This, fellow: what wouldst?

183I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his

184grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person

185in flesh and blood.

186This is he.

187Signior Arme--Arme--commends you. There's villany

188abroad: this letter will tell you more.

189Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.

190A letter from the magnificent Armado.

191How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.

192A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!

193To hear? or forbear laughing?

194To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to

195forbear both.

196Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to

197climb in the merriness.

198The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta.

199The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.

200In what manner?

201In manner and form following, sir; all those three:

202I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with

203her upon the form, and taken following her into the

204park; which, put together, is in manner and form

205following. Now, sir, for the manner,--it is the

206manner of a man to speak to a woman: for the form,--

207in some form.

208For the following, sir?

209As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend

210the right!

211Will you hear this letter with attention?

212As we would hear an oracle.

213Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.

214[Reads] 'Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and

215sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's god,

216and body's fostering patron.'

217Not a word of Costard yet.

218[Reads] 'So it is,'--

219It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in

220telling true, but so.

221Peace!

222Be to me and every man that dares not fight!

223No words!

224Of other men's secrets, I beseech you.

225[Reads] 'So it is, besieged with sable-coloured

226melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour

227to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving

228air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to

229walk. The time when. About the sixth hour; when

230beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down

231to that nourishment which is called supper: so much

232for the time when. Now for the ground which; which,

233I mean, I walked upon: it is y-cleped thy park. Then

234for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter

235that obscene and preposterous event, that draweth

236from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which

237here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest;

238but to the place where; it standeth north-north-east

239and by east from the west corner of thy curious-

240knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited

241swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,'--

242Me?

243[Reads] 'that unlettered small-knowing soul,'--

244Me?

245[Reads] 'that shallow vassal,'--

246Still me?

247[Reads] 'which, as I remember, hight Costard,'--

248O, me!

249[Reads] 'sorted and consorted, contrary to thy

250established proclaimed edict and continent canon,

251which with,--O, with--but with this I passion to say

252wherewith,--

253With a wench.

254[Reads] 'with a child of our grandmother Eve, a

255female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a

256woman. Him I, as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on,

257have sent to thee, to receive the meed of

258punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Anthony

259Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and

260estimation.'

261'Me, an't shall please you; I am Anthony Dull.

262[Reads] 'For Jaquenetta,--so is the weaker vessel

263called which I apprehended with the aforesaid

264swain,--I keep her as a vessel of the law's fury;

265and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring

266her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted

267and heart-burning heat of duty.

268DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.'

269This is not so well as I looked for, but the best

270that ever I heard.

271Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say

272you to this?

273Sir, I confess the wench.

274Did you hear the proclamation?

275I do confess much of the hearing it but little of

276the marking of it.

277It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, to be taken

278with a wench.

279I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damsel.

280Well, it was proclaimed 'damsel.'

281This was no damsel, neither, sir; she was a virgin.

282It is so varied, too; for it was proclaimed 'virgin.'

283If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.

284This maid will not serve your turn, sir.

285This maid will serve my turn, sir.

286Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast

287a week with bran and water.

288I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

289And Don Armado shall be your keeper.

290My Lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er:

291And go we, lords, to put in practise that

292Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.

293I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,

294These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.

295Sirrah, come on.

296I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was

297taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true

298girl; and therefore welcome the sour cup of

299prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and

300till then, sit thee down, sorrow!

1Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit

2grows melancholy?

3A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

4Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.

5No, no; O Lord, sir, no.

6How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my

7tender juvenal?

8By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.

9Why tough senior? why tough senior?

10Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?

11I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton

12appertaining to thy young days, which we may

13nominate tender.

14And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your

15old time, which we may name tough.

16Pretty and apt.

17How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or

18I apt, and my saying pretty?

19Thou pretty, because little.

20Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?

21And therefore apt, because quick.

22Speak you this in my praise, master?

23In thy condign praise.

24I will praise an eel with the same praise.

25What, that an eel is ingenious?

26That an eel is quick.

27I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest my blood.

28I am answered, sir.

29I love not to be crossed.

30[Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him.

31I have promised to study three years with the duke.

32You may do it in an hour, sir.

33Impossible.

34How many is one thrice told?

35I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.

36You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.

37I confess both: they are both the varnish of a

38complete man.

39Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of

40deuce-ace amounts to.

41It doth amount to one more than two.

42Which the base vulgar do call three.

43True.

44Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here

45is three studied, ere ye'll thrice wink: and how

46easy it is to put 'years' to the word 'three,' and

47study three years in two words, the dancing horse

48will tell you.

49A most fine figure!

50To prove you a cipher.

51I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is

52base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a

53base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour

54of affection would deliver me from the reprobate

55thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and

56ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised

57courtesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I should

58outswear Cupid. Comfort, me, boy: what great men

59have been in love?

60Hercules, master.

61Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name

62more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good

63repute and carriage.

64Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great

65carriage, for he carried the town-gates on his back

66like a porter: and he was in love.

67O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do

68excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in

69carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson's

70love, my dear Moth?

71A woman, master.

72Of what complexion?

73Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.

74Tell me precisely of what complexion.

75Of the sea-water green, sir.

76Is that one of the four complexions?

77As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.

78Green indeed is the colour of lovers; but to have a

79love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason

80for it. He surely affected her for her wit.

81It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.

82My love is most immaculate white and red.

83Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under

84such colours.

85Define, define, well-educated infant.

86My father's wit and my mother's tongue, assist me!

87Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and

88pathetical!

89If she be made of white and red,

90Her faults will ne'er be known,

91For blushing cheeks by faults are bred

92And fears by pale white shown:

93Then if she fear, or be to blame,

94By this you shall not know,

95For still her cheeks possess the same

96Which native she doth owe.

97A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of

98white and red.

99Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

100The world was very guilty of such a ballad some

101three ages since: but I think now 'tis not to be

102found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for

103the writing nor the tune.

104I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may

105example my digression by some mighty precedent.

106Boy, I do love that country girl that I took in the

107park with the rational hind Costard: she deserves well.

108[Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better love than

109my master.

110Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.

111And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.

112I say, sing.

113Forbear till this company be past.

114Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard

115safe: and you must suffer him to take no delight

116nor no penance; but a' must fast three days a week.

117For this damsel, I must keep her at the park: she

118is allowed for the day-woman. Fare you well.

119I do betray myself with blushing. Maid!

120Man?

121I will visit thee at the lodge.

122That's hereby.

123I know where it is situate.

124Lord, how wise you are!

125I will tell thee wonders.

126With that face?

127I love thee.

128So I heard you say.

129And so, farewell.

130Fair weather after you!

131Come, Jaquenetta, away!

132Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou

133be pardoned.

134Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a

135full stomach.

136Thou shalt be heavily punished.

137I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they

138are but lightly rewarded.

139Take away this villain; shut him up.

140Come, you transgressing slave; away!

141Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast, being loose.

142No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison.

143Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation

144that I have seen, some shall see.

145What shall some see?

146Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon.

147It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their

148words; and therefore I will say nothing: I thank

149God I have as little patience as another man; and

150therefore I can be quiet.

151I do affect the very ground, which is base, where

152her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which

153is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which

154is a great argument of falsehood, if I love. And

155how can that be true love which is falsely

156attempted? Love is a familiar; Love is a devil:

157there is no evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson so

158tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was

159Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit.

160Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club;

161and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier.

162The first and second cause will not serve my turn;

163the passado he respects not, the duello he regards

164not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his

165glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust rapier!

166be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea,

167he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme,

168for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit;

169write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.

1Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits:

2Consider who the king your father sends,

3To whom he sends, and what's his embassy:

4Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem,

5To parley with the sole inheritor

6Of all perfections that a man may owe,

7Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight

8Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen.

9Be now as prodigal of all dear grace

10As Nature was in making graces dear

11When she did starve the general world beside

12And prodigally gave them all to you.

13Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,

14Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:

15Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,

16Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:

17I am less proud to hear you tell my worth

18Than you much willing to be counted wise

19In spending your wit in the praise of mine.

20But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,

21You are not ignorant, all-telling fame

22Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,

23Till painful study shall outwear three years,

24No woman may approach his silent court:

25Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,

26Before we enter his forbidden gates,

27To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,

28Bold of your worthiness, we single you

29As our best-moving fair solicitor.

30Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,

31On serious business, craving quick dispatch,

32Importunes personal conference with his grace:

33Haste, signify so much; while we attend,

34Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.

35Proud of employment, willingly I go.

36All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.

37Who are the votaries, my loving lords,

38That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?

39Lord Longaville is one.

40Know you the man?

41I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast,

42Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir

43Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized

44In Normandy, saw I this Longaville:

45A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;

46Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:

47Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.

48The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,

49If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,

50Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will;

51Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills

52It should none spare that come within his power.

53Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?

54They say so most that most his humours know.

55Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.

56Who are the rest?

57The young Dumain, a well-accomplished youth,

58Of all that virtue love for virtue loved:

59Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill;

60For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,

61And shape to win grace though he had no wit.

62I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once;

63And much too little of that good I saw

64Is my report to his great worthiness.

65Another of these students at that time

66Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.

67Biron they call him; but a merrier man,

68Within the limit of becoming mirth,

69I never spent an hour's talk withal:

70His eye begets occasion for his wit;

71For every object that the one doth catch

72The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,

73Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,

74Delivers in such apt and gracious words

75That aged ears play truant at his tales

76And younger hearings are quite ravished;

77So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

78God bless my ladies! are they all in love,

79That every one her own hath garnished

80With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

81Here comes Boyet.

82Now, what admittance, lord?

83Navarre had notice of your fair approach;

84And he and his competitors in oath

85Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady,

86Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt:

87He rather means to lodge you in the field,

88Like one that comes here to besiege his court,

89Than seek a dispensation for his oath,

90To let you enter his unpeopled house.

91Here comes Navarre.

92Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.

93'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have

94not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be

95yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.

96You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.

97I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither.

98Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.

99Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.

100Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.

101Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else.

102Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.

103Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,

104Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.

105I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:

106Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,

107And sin to break it.

108But pardon me. I am too sudden-bold:

109To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.

110Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,

111And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

112Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.

113You will the sooner, that I were away;

114For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.

115Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

116Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

117I know you did.

118How needless was it then to ask the question!

119You must not be so quick.

120'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such questions.

121Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.

122Not till it leave the rider in the mire.

123What time o' day?

124The hour that fools should ask.

125Now fair befall your mask!

126Fair fall the face it covers!

127And send you many lovers!

128Amen, so you be none.

129Nay, then will I be gone.

130Madam, your father here doth intimate

131The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;

132Being but the one half of an entire sum

133Disbursed by my father in his wars.

134But say that he or we, as neither have,

135Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid

136A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,

137One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,

138Although not valued to the money's worth.

139If then the king your father will restore

140But that one half which is unsatisfied,

141We will give up our right in Aquitaine,

142And hold fair friendship with his majesty.

143But that, it seems, he little purposeth,

144For here he doth demand to have repaid

145A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,

146On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,

147To have his title live in Aquitaine;

148Which we much rather had depart withal

149And have the money by our father lent

150Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is.

151Dear Princess, were not his requests so far

152From reason's yielding, your fair self should make

153A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast

154And go well satisfied to France again.

155You do the king my father too much wrong

156And wrong the reputation of your name,

157In so unseeming to confess receipt

158Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.

159I do protest I never heard of it;

160And if you prove it, I'll repay it back

161Or yield up Aquitaine.

162We arrest your word.

163Boyet, you can produce acquittances

164For such a sum from special officers

165Of Charles his father.

166Satisfy me so.

167So please your grace, the packet is not come

168Where that and other specialties are bound:

169To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

170It shall suffice me: at which interview

171All liberal reason I will yield unto.

172Meantime receive such welcome at my hand

173As honour without breach of honour may

174Make tender of to thy true worthiness:

175You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;

176But here without you shall be so received

177As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,

178Though so denied fair harbour in my house.

179Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:

180To-morrow shall we visit you again.

181Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!

182Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!

183Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.

184Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

185I would you heard it groan.

186Is the fool sick?

187Sick at the heart.

188Alack, let it blood.

189Would that do it good?

190My physic says 'ay.'

191Will you prick't with your eye?

192No point, with my knife.

193Now, God save thy life!

194And yours from long living!

195I cannot stay thanksgiving.

196Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same?

197The heir of Alencon, Katharine her name.

198A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well.

199I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?

200A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.

201Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.

202She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.

203Pray you, sir, whose daughter?

204Her mother's, I have heard.

205God's blessing on your beard!

206Good sir, be not offended.

207She is an heir of Falconbridge.

208Nay, my choler is ended.

209She is a most sweet lady.

210Not unlike, sir, that may be.

211What's her name in the cap?

212Rosaline, by good hap.

213Is she wedded or no?

214To her will, sir, or so.

215You are welcome, sir: adieu.

216Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

217That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord:

218Not a word with him but a jest.

219And every jest but a word.

220It was well done of you to take him at his word.

221I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.

222Two hot sheeps, marry.

223And wherefore not ships?

224No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.

225You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?

226So you grant pasture for me.

227Not so, gentle beast:

228My lips are no common, though several they be.

229Belonging to whom?

230To my fortunes and me.

231Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree:

232This civil war of wits were much better used

233On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.

234If my observation, which very seldom lies,

235By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,

236Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

237With what?

238With that which we lovers entitle affected.

239Your reason?

240Why, all his behaviors did make their retire

241To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:

242His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd,

243Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd:

244His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,

245Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;

246All senses to that sense did make their repair,

247To feel only looking on fairest of fair:

248Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye,

249As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;

250Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass'd,

251Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd:

252His face's own margent did quote such amazes

253That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.

254I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his,

255An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

256Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed.

257But to speak that in words which his eye hath

258disclosed.

259I only have made a mouth of his eye,

260By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

261Thou art an old love-monger and speakest skilfully.

262He is Cupid's grandfather and learns news of him.

263Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.

264Do you hear, my mad wenches?

265No.

266What then, do you see?

267Ay, our way to be gone.

268You are too hard for me.

1Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

2Concolinel.

3Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this key,

4give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately

5hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love.

6Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?

7How meanest thou? brawling in French?

8No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at

9the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour

10it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and

11sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you

12swallowed love with singing love, sometime through

13the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling

14love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of

15your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly

16doublet like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in

17your pocket like a man after the old painting; and

18keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away.

19These are complements, these are humours; these

20betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without

21these; and make them men of note--do you note

22me?--that most are affected to these.

23How hast thou purchased this experience?

24By my penny of observation.

25But O,--but O,--

26'The hobby-horse is forgot.'

27Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse'?

28No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your

29love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

30Almost I had.

31Negligent student! learn her by heart.

32By heart and in heart, boy.

33And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.

34What wilt thou prove?

35A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon

36the instant: by heart you love her, because your

37heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her,

38because your heart is in love with her; and out of

39heart you love her, being out of heart that you

40cannot enjoy her.

41I am all these three.

42And three times as much more, and yet nothing at

43all.

44Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter.

45A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador

46for an ass.

47Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

48Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse,

49for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.

50The way is but short: away!

51As swift as lead, sir.

52The meaning, pretty ingenious?

53Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?

54Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no.

55I say lead is slow.

56You are too swift, sir, to say so:

57Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?

58Sweet smoke of rhetoric!

59He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:

60I shoot thee at the swain.

61Thump then and I flee.

62A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace!

63By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:

64Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.

65My herald is return'd.

66A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin.

67Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy; begin.

68No enigma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the

69mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no

70l'envoy, no l'envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain!

71By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly

72thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes

73me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars!

74Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and

75the word l'envoy for a salve?

76Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

77No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain

78Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.

79I will example it:

80The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

81Were still at odds, being but three.

82There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.

83I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.

84The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

85Were still at odds, being but three.

86Until the goose came out of door,

87And stay'd the odds by adding four.

88Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with

89my l'envoy.

90The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

91Were still at odds, being but three.

92Until the goose came out of door,

93Staying the odds by adding four.

94A good l'envoy, ending in the goose: would you

95desire more?

96The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat.

97Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.

98To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose:

99Let me see; a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.

100Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?

101By saying that a costard was broken in a shin.

102Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

103True, and I for a plantain: thus came your

104argument in;

105Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;

106And he ended the market.

107But tell me; how was there a costard broken in a shin?

108I will tell you sensibly.

109Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak that l'envoy:

110I Costard, running out, that was safely within,

111Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.

112We will talk no more of this matter.

113Till there be more matter in the shin.

114Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.

115O, marry me to one Frances: I smell some l'envoy,

116some goose, in this.

117By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty,

118enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured,

119restrained, captivated, bound.

120True, true; and now you will be my purgation and let me loose.

121I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and,

122in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:

123bear this significant

124to the country maid Jaquenetta:

125there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine

126honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.

127Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu.

128My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!

129Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration!

130O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three

131farthings--remuneration.--'What's the price of this

132inkle?'--'One penny.'--'No, I'll give you a

133remuneration:' why, it carries it. Remuneration!

134why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will

135never buy and sell out of this word.

136O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.

137Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man

138buy for a remuneration?

139What is a remuneration?

140Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.

141Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk.

142I thank your worship: God be wi' you!

143Stay, slave; I must employ thee:

144As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,

145Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

146When would you have it done, sir?

147This afternoon.

148Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.

149Thou knowest not what it is.

150I shall know, sir, when I have done it.

151Why, villain, thou must know first.

152I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.

153It must be done this afternoon.

154Hark, slave, it is but this:

155The princess comes to hunt here in the park,

156And in her train there is a gentle lady;

157When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,

158And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;

159And to her white hand see thou do commend

160This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.

161Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration,

162a'leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon! I

163will do it sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration!

164And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;

165A very beadle to a humorous sigh;

166A critic, nay, a night-watch constable;

167A domineering pedant o'er the boy;

168Than whom no mortal so magnificent!

169This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;

170This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;

171Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,

172The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,

173Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,

174Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,

175Sole imperator and great general

176Of trotting 'paritors:--O my little heart:--

177And I to be a corporal of his field,

178And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!

179What, I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!

180A woman, that is like a German clock,

181Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,

182And never going aright, being a watch,

183But being watch'd that it may still go right!

184Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;

185And, among three, to love the worst of all;

186A wightly wanton with a velvet brow,

187With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;

188Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed

189Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:

190And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!

191To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague

192That Cupid will impose for my neglect

193Of his almighty dreadful little might.

194Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan:

195Some men must love my lady and some Joan.

1Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard

2Against the steep uprising of the hill?

3I know not; but I think it was not he.

4Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.

5Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:

6On Saturday we will return to France.

7Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush

8That we must stand and play the murderer in?

9Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;

10A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.

11I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,

12And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.

13Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.

14What, what? first praise me and again say no?

15O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe!

16Yes, madam, fair.

17Nay, never paint me now:

18Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.

19Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:

20Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

21Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.

22See see, my beauty will be saved by merit!

23O heresy in fair, fit for these days!

24A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.

25But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill,

26And shooting well is then accounted ill.

27Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:

28Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;

29If wounding, then it was to show my skill,

30That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.

31And out of question so it is sometimes,

32Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,

33When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,

34We bend to that the working of the heart;

35As I for praise alone now seek to spill

36The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

37Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty

38Only for praise sake, when they strive to be

39Lords o'er their lords?

40Only for praise: and praise we may afford

41To any lady that subdues a lord.

42Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

43God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

44Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

45Which is the greatest lady, the highest?

46The thickest and the tallest.

47The thickest and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth.

48An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,

49One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit.

50Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

51What's your will, sir? what's your will?

52I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline.

53O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine:

54Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve;

55Break up this capon.

56I am bound to serve.

57This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;

58It is writ to Jaquenetta.

59We will read it, I swear.

60Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

61'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;

62true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that

63thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful

64than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have

65commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The

66magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set

67eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar

68Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say,

69Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the

70vulgar,--O base and obscure vulgar!--videlicet, He

71came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two;

72overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he

73come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to

74whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the

75beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The

76conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's.

77The captive is enriched: on whose side? the

78beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose

79side? the king's: no, on both in one, or one in

80both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison:

81thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness.

82Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce

83thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I

84will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes;

85for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus,

86expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot,

87my eyes on thy picture. and my heart on thy every

88part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,

89DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.'

90Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

91'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.

92Submissive fall his princely feet before,

93And he from forage will incline to play:

94But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?

95Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

96What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?

97What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

98I am much deceived but I remember the style.

99Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.

100This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;

101A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport

102To the prince and his bookmates.

103Thou fellow, a word:

104Who gave thee this letter?

105I told you; my lord.

106To whom shouldst thou give it?

107From my lord to my lady.

108From which lord to which lady?

109From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,

110To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline.

111Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.

112Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be thine another day.

113Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?

114Shall I teach you to know?

115Ay, my continent of beauty.

116Why, she that bears the bow.

117Finely put off!

118My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry,

119Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.

120Finely put on!

121Well, then, I am the shooter.

122And who is your deer?

123If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.

124Finely put on, indeed!

125You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes

126at the brow.

127But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now?

128Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was

129a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as

130touching the hit it?

131So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a

132woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little

133wench, as touching the hit it.

134Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,

135Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

136An I cannot, cannot, cannot,

137An I cannot, another can.

138By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it!

139A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.

140A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!

141Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.

142Wide o' the bow hand! i' faith, your hand is out.

143Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.

144An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.

145Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.

146Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.

147She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.

148I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.

149By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!

150Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down!

151O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony

152vulgar wit!

153When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it

154were, so fit.

155Armado o' th' one side,--O, a most dainty man!

156To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan!

157To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a'

158will swear!

159And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!

160Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!

161Sola, sola!

1Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony

2of a good conscience.

3The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe

4as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in

5the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven;

6and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra,

7the soil, the land, the earth.

8Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly

9varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I

10assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.

11Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

12'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.

13Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of

14insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of

15explication; facere, as it were, replication, or

16rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his

17inclination, after his undressed, unpolished,

18uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather,

19unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to

20insert again my haud credo for a deer.

21I said the deer was not a haud credo; twas a pricket.

22Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus!

23O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!

24Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred

25in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he

26hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not

27replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in

28the duller parts:

29And such barren plants are set before us, that we

30thankful should be,

31Which we of taste and feeling are, for those parts that

32do fructify in us more than he.

33For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,

34So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:

35But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,

36Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

37You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit

38What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five

39weeks old as yet?

40Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.

41What is Dictynna?

42A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.

43The moon was a month old when Adam was no more,

44And raught not to five weeks when he came to

45five-score.

46The allusion holds in the exchange.

47'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

48God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds

49in the exchange.

50And I say, the pollusion holds in the exchange; for

51the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside

52that, 'twas a pricket that the princess killed.

53Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph

54on the death of the deer? And, to humour the

55ignorant, call I the deer the princess killed a pricket.

56Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it shall

57please you to abrogate scurrility.

58I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.

59The preyful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty

60pleasing pricket;

61Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made

62sore with shooting.

63The dogs did yell: put L to sore, then sorel jumps

64from thicket;

65Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting.

66If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores

67one sorel.

68Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.

69A rare talent!

70[Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws

71him with a talent.

72This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a

73foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures,

74shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions,

75revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of

76memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and

77delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the

78gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am

79thankful for it.

80Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may my

81parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by

82you, and their daughters profit very greatly under

83you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.

84Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall

85want no instruction; if their daughters be capable,

86I will put it to them: but vir sapit qui pauca

87loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us.

88God give you good morrow, master Parson.

89Master Parson, quasi pers-on. An if one should be

90pierced, which is the one?

91Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

92Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a

93tuft of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough

94for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well.

95Good master Parson, be so good as read me this

96letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent me

97from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it.

98Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra

99Ruminat,--and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I

100may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice;

101Venetia, Venetia,

102Chi non ti vede non ti pretia.

103Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! who understandeth thee

104not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.

105Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather,

106as Horace says in his--What, my soul, verses?

107Ay, sir, and very learned.

108Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; lege, domine.

109[Reads]

110If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?

111Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd!

112Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove:

113Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like

114osiers bow'd.

115Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes,

116Where all those pleasures live that art would

117comprehend:

118If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;

119Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend,

120All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;

121Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire:

122Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,

123Which not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.

124Celestial as thou art, O, pardon, love, this wrong,

125That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.

126You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the

127accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are

128only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy,

129facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret.

130Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso,

131but for smelling out the odouriferous flowers of

132fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing:

133so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper,

134the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin,

135was this directed to you?

136Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange

137queen's lords.

138I will overglance the superscript: 'To the

139snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady

140Rosaline.' I will look again on the intellect of

141the letter, for the nomination of the party writing

142to the person written unto: 'Your ladyship's in all

143desired employment, BIRON.' Sir Nathaniel, this

144Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here

145he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger

146queen's, which accidentally, or by the way of

147progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my

148sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the

149king: it may concern much. Stay not thy

150compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu.

151Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life!

152Have with thee, my girl.

153Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very

154religiously; and, as a certain father saith,--

155Sir tell me not of the father; I do fear colourable

156colours. But to return to the verses: did they

157please you, Sir Nathaniel?

158Marvellous well for the pen.

159I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil

160of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please

161you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my

162privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid

163child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I

164will prove those verses to be very unlearned,

165neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I

166beseech your society.

167And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is

168the happiness of life.

169And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.

170Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not

171say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles are at

172their game, and we will to our recreation.

1The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing

2myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in

3a pitch,--pitch that defiles: defile! a foul

4word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say

5the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well

6proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is as mad as

7Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep:

8well proved again o' my side! I will not love: if

9I do, hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her

10eye,--by this light, but for her eye, I would not

11love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing

12in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By

13heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme

14and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme,

15and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my

16sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent

17it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter

18fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care

19a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one

20with a paper: God give him grace to groan!

21Ay me!

22[Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid:

23thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the

24left pap. In faith, secrets!

25[Reads]

26So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not

27To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

28As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote

29The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:

30Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright

31Through the transparent bosom of the deep,

32As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;

33Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep:

34No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;

35So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.

36Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

37And they thy glory through my grief will show:

38But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep

39My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.

40O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel,

41No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.

42How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper:

43Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?

44What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.

45Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!

46Ay me, I am forsworn!

47Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.

48In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame!

49One drunkard loves another of the name.

50Am I the first that have been perjured so?

51I could put thee in comfort. Not by two that I know:

52Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society,

53The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.

54I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move:

55O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

56These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

57O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:

58Disfigure not his slop.

59This same shall go.

60Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,

61'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,

62Persuade my heart to this false perjury?

63Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.

64A woman I forswore; but I will prove,

65Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:

66My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;

67Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.

68Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:

69Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,

70Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is:

71If broken then, it is no fault of mine:

72If by me broke, what fool is not so wise

73To lose an oath to win a paradise?

74This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity,

75A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.

76God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.

77By whom shall I send this?--Company! stay.

78All hid, all hid; an old infant play.

79Like a demigod here sit I in the sky.

80And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'ereye.

81More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!

82Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in a dish!

83O most divine Kate!

84O most profane coxcomb!

85By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!

86By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.

87Her amber hair for foul hath amber quoted.

88An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.

89As upright as the cedar.

90Stoop, I say;

91Her shoulder is with child.

92As fair as day.

93Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.

94O that I had my wish!

95And I had mine!

96And I mine too, good Lord!

97Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word?

98I would forget her; but a fever she

99Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be.

100A fever in your blood! why, then incision

101Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!

102Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.

103Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.

104[Reads]

105On a day--alack the day!--

106Love, whose month is ever May,

107Spied a blossom passing fair

108Playing in the wanton air:

109Through the velvet leaves the wind,

110All unseen, can passage find;

111That the lover, sick to death,

112Wish himself the heaven's breath.

113Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;

114Air, would I might triumph so!

115But, alack, my hand is sworn

116Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn;

117Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,

118Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!

119Do not call it sin in me,

120That I am forsworn for thee;

121Thou for whom Jove would swear

122Juno but an Ethiope were;

123And deny himself for Jove,

124Turning mortal for thy love.

125This will I send, and something else more plain,

126That shall express my true love's fasting pain.

127O, would the king, Biron, and Longaville,

128Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,

129Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note;

130For none offend where all alike do dote.

131[Advancing] Dumain, thy love is far from charity.

132You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,

133To be o'erheard and taken napping so.

134[Advancing] Come, sir, you blush; as his your case is such;

135You chide at him, offending twice as much;

136You do not love Maria; Longaville

137Did never sonnet for her sake compile,

138Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart

139His loving bosom to keep down his heart.

140I have been closely shrouded in this bush

141And mark'd you both and for you both did blush:

142I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion,

143Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:

144Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;

145One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:

146You would for paradise break faith, and troth;

147And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.

148What will Biron say when that he shall hear

149Faith so infringed, which such zeal did swear?

150How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!

151How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it!

152For all the wealth that ever I did see,

153I would not have him know so much by me.

154Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.

155Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me!

156Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove

157These worms for loving, that art most in love?

158Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears

159There is no certain princess that appears;

160You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing;

161Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting!

162But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not,

163All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?

164You found his mote; the king your mote did see;

165But I a beam do find in each of three.

166O, what a scene of foolery have I seen,

167Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen!

168O me, with what strict patience have I sat,

169To see a king transformed to a gnat!

170To see great Hercules whipping a gig,

171And profound Solomon to tune a jig,

172And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,

173And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!

174Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain?

175And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?

176And where my liege's? all about the breast:

177A caudle, ho!

178Too bitter is thy jest.

179Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

180Not you to me, but I betray'd by you:

181I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin

182To break the vow I am engaged in;

183I am betray'd, by keeping company

184With men like men of inconstancy.

185When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?

186Or groan for love? or spend a minute's time

187In pruning me? When shall you hear that I

188Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,

189A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,

190A leg, a limb?

191Soft! whither away so fast?

192A true man or a thief that gallops so?

193I post from love: good lover, let me go.

194God bless the king!

195What present hast thou there?

196Some certain treason.

197What makes treason here?

198Nay, it makes nothing, sir.

199If it mar nothing neither,

200The treason and you go in peace away together.

201I beseech your grace, let this letter be read:

202Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said.

203Biron, read it over.

204Where hadst thou it?

205Of Costard.

206Where hadst thou it?

207Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

208How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?

209A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace needs not fear it.

210It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.

211It is Biron's writing, and here is his name.

212[To COSTARD] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! you were

213born to do me shame.

214Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.

215What?

216That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess:

217He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I,

218Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.

219O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.

220Now the number is even.

221True, true; we are four.

222Will these turtles be gone?

223Hence, sirs; away!

224Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.

225Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace!

226As true we are as flesh and blood can be:

227The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face;

228Young blood doth not obey an old decree:

229We cannot cross the cause why we were born;

230Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn.

231What, did these rent lines show some love of thine?

232Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,

233That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

234At the first opening of the gorgeous east,

235Bows not his vassal head and strucken blind

236Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?

237What peremptory eagle-sighted eye

238Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,

239That is not blinded by her majesty?

240What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now?

241My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;

242She an attending star, scarce seen a light.

243My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron:

244O, but for my love, day would turn to night!

245Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty

246Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek,

247Where several worthies make one dignity,

248Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.

249Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,--

250Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not:

251To things of sale a seller's praise belongs,

252She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot.

253A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,

254Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:

255Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

256And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy:

257O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine.

258By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.

259Is ebony like her? O wood divine!

260A wife of such wood were felicity.

261O, who can give an oath? where is a book?

262That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack,

263If that she learn not of her eye to look:

264No face is fair that is not full so black.

265O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,

266The hue of dungeons and the suit of night;

267And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.

268Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.

269O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,

270It mourns that painting and usurping hair

271Should ravish doters with a false aspect;

272And therefore is she born to make black fair.

273Her favour turns the fashion of the days,

274For native blood is counted painting now;

275And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,

276Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.

277To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.

278And since her time are colliers counted bright.

279And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack.

280Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.

281Your mistresses dare never come in rain,

282For fear their colours should be wash'd away.

283'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,

284I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.

285I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.

286No devil will fright thee then so much as she.

287I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.

288Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face see.

289O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,

290Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!

291O, vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies

292The street should see as she walk'd overhead.

293But what of this? are we not all in love?

294Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.

295Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove

296Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.

297Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.

298O, some authority how to proceed;

299Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.

300Some salve for perjury.

301'Tis more than need.

302Have at you, then, affection's men at arms.

303Consider what you first did swear unto,

304To fast, to study, and to see no woman;

305Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth.

306Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young;

307And abstinence engenders maladies.

308And where that you have vow'd to study, lords,

309In that each of you have forsworn his book,

310Can you still dream and pore and thereon look?

311For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,

312Have found the ground of study's excellence

313Without the beauty of a woman's face?

314Why, universal plodding poisons up

315The nimble spirits in the arteries,

316As motion and long-during action tires

317The sinewy vigour of the traveller.

318Now, for not looking on a woman's face,

319You have in that forsworn the use of eyes

320And study too, the causer of your vow;

321For where is any author in the world

322Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?

323Learning is but an adjunct to ourself

324And where we are our learning likewise is:

325Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes,

326Do we not likewise see our learning there?

327O, we have made a vow to study, lords,

328And in that vow we have forsworn our books.

329For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,

330In leaden contemplation have found out

331Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes

332Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with?

333Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;

334And therefore, finding barren practisers,

335Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil:

336But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,

337Lives not alone immured in the brain;

338But, with the motion of all elements,

339Courses as swift as thought in every power,

340And gives to every power a double power,

341Above their functions and their offices.

342It adds a precious seeing to the eye;

343A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;

344A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,

345When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:

346Love's feeling is more soft and sensible

347Than are the tender horns of cockl'd snails;

348Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste:

349For valour, is not Love a Hercules,

350Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?

351Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical

352As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair:

353And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods

354Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

355Never durst poet touch a pen to write

356Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs;

357O, then his lines would ravish savage ears

358And plant in tyrants mild humility.

359From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:

360They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;

361They are the books, the arts, the academes,

362That show, contain and nourish all the world:

363Else none at all in ought proves excellent.

364Then fools you were these women to forswear,

365Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.

366For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love,

367Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men,

368Or for men's sake, the authors of these women,

369Or women's sake, by whom we men are men,

370Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves,

371Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths.

372It is religion to be thus forsworn,

373For charity itself fulfills the law,

374And who can sever love from charity?

375Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!

376Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;

377Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advised,

378In conflict that you get the sun of them.

379Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by:

380Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?

381And win them too: therefore let us devise

382Some entertainment for them in their tents.

383First, from the park let us conduct them thither;

384Then homeward every man attach the hand

385Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon

386We will with some strange pastime solace them,

387Such as the shortness of the time can shape;

388For revels, dances, masks and merry hours

389Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.

390Away, away! no time shall be omitted

391That will betime, and may by us be fitted.

392Allons! allons! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;

393And justice always whirls in equal measure:

394Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn;

395If so, our copper buys no better treasure.

1Satis quod sufficit.

2I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner

3have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without

4scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without

5impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with-

6out heresy. I did converse this quondam day with

7a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nomi-

8nated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.

9Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his

10discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye

11ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general

12behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is

13too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it

14were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.

15A most singular and choice epithet.

16He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer

17than the staple of his argument. I abhor such

18fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and

19point-devise companions; such rackers of

20orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should

21say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt,--d,

22e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf;

23half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebor; neigh

24abbreviated ne. This is abhominable,--which he

25would call abbominable: it insinuateth me of

26insanie: anne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.

27Laus Deo, bene intelligo.

28Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian! a little scratch'd,

29'twill serve.

30Videsne quis venit?

31Video, et gaudeo.

32Chirrah!

33Quare chirrah, not sirrah?

34Men of peace, well encountered.

35Most military sir, salutation.

36[Aside to COSTARD] They have been at a great feast

37of languages, and stolen the scraps.

38O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words.

39I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word;

40for thou art not so long by the head as

41honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier

42swallowed than a flap-dragon.

43Peace! the peal begins.

44[To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lettered?

45Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook. What is a,

46b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head?

47Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

48Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning.

49Quis, quis, thou consonant?

50The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or

51the fifth, if I.

52I will repeat them,--a, e, i,--

53The sheep: the other two concludes it,--o, u.

54Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet

55touch, a quick venue of wit! snip, snap, quick and

56home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!

57Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.

58What is the figure? what is the figure?

59Horns.

60Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig.

61Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about

62your infamy circum circa,--a gig of a cuckold's horn.

63An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst

64have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very

65remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny

66purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an

67the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my

68bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me!

69Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers'

70ends, as they say.

71O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.

72Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singled from the

73barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the

74charge-house on the top of the mountain?

75Or mons, the hill.

76At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.

77I do, sans question.

78Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and

79affection to congratulate the princess at her

80pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the

81rude multitude call the afternoon.

82The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is

83liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon:

84the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do

85assure you, sir, I do assure.

86Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar,

87I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is

88inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee,

89remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy

90head: and among other important and most serious

91designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let

92that pass: for I must tell thee, it will please his

93grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor

94shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally

95with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet

96heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no

97fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his

98greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of

99travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pass.

100The very all of all is,--but, sweet heart, I do

101implore secrecy,--that the king would have me

102present the princess, sweet chuck, with some

103delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or

104antique, or firework. Now, understanding that the

105curate and your sweet self are good at such

106eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it

107were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to

108crave your assistance.

109Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.

110Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some

111show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by

112our assistants, at the king's command, and this most

113gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, before

114the princess; I say none so fit as to present the

115Nine Worthies.

116Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?

117Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman,

118Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great

119limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the

120page, Hercules,--

121Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for

122that Worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.

123Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules in

124minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a

125snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.

126An excellent device! so, if any of the audience

127hiss, you may cry 'Well done, Hercules! now thou

128crushest the snake!' that is the way to make an

129offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it.

130For the rest of the Worthies?--

131I will play three myself.

132Thrice-worthy gentleman!

133Shall I tell you a thing?

134We attend.

135We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I

136beseech you, follow.

137Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while.

138Nor understood none neither, sir.

139Allons! we will employ thee.

140I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play

141On the tabour to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.

142Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away!

1Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,

2If fairings come thus plentifully in:

3A lady wall'd about with diamonds!

4Look you what I have from the loving king.

5Madame, came nothing else along with that?

6Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme

7As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,

8Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all,

9That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.

10That was the way to make his godhead wax,

11For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

12Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

13You'll ne'er be friends with him; a' kill'd your sister.

14He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;

15And so she died: had she been light, like you,

16Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,

17She might ha' been a grandam ere she died:

18And so may you; for a light heart lives long.

19What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

20A light condition in a beauty dark.

21We need more light to find your meaning out.

22You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;

23Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.

24Look what you do, you do it still i' the dark.

25So do not you, for you are a light wench.

26Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.

27You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me.

28Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.'

29Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.

30But Rosaline, you have a favour too:

31Who sent it? and what is it?

32I would you knew:

33An if my face were but as fair as yours,

34My favour were as great; be witness this.

35Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:

36The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,

37I were the fairest goddess on the ground:

38I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.

39O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

40Any thing like?

41Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

42Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

43Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

44'Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,

45My red dominical, my golden letter:

46O, that your face were not so full of O's!

47A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.

48But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

49Madam, this glove.

50Did he not send you twain?

51Yes, madam, and moreover

52Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,

53A huge translation of hypocrisy,

54Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

55This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:

56The letter is too long by half a mile.

57I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart

58The chain were longer and the letter short?

59Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

60We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

61They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.

62That same Biron I'll torture ere I go:

63O that I knew he were but in by the week!

64How I would make him fawn and beg and seek

65And wait the season and observe the times

66And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes

67And shape his service wholly to my hests

68And make him proud to make me proud that jests!

69So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state

70That he should be my fool and I his fate.

71None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,

72As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,

73Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school

74And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

75The blood of youth burns not with such excess

76As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

77Folly in fools bears not so strong a note

78As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;

79Since all the power thereof it doth apply

80To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

81Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

82O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace?

83Thy news Boyet?

84Prepare, madam, prepare!

85Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are

86Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,

87Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised:

88Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;

89Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

90Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

91That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.

92Under the cool shade of a sycamore

93I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;

94When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,

95Toward that shade I might behold addrest

96The king and his companions: warily

97I stole into a neighbour thicket by,

98And overheard what you shall overhear,

99That, by and by, disguised they will be here.

100Their herald is a pretty knavish page,

101That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage:

102Action and accent did they teach him there;

103'Thus must thou speak,' and 'thus thy body bear:'

104And ever and anon they made a doubt

105Presence majestical would put him out,

106'For,' quoth the king, 'an angel shalt thou see;