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THE WORKS

SHAKESPEAEE.

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THE HENRY IBVINO SHAKESPEARE.

THE WORKS

OF

WILLIAM SHAKE SPEAEE

n

EDITED BY

HENRY IRVING and FRANK A. MARSHALL

WITH

NOTES AND INTRODUCTIONS TO EACH PLAY BY F. A. MARSHALL

AND OTHER SHAKESPEARIAN SCHOLARS,

AND LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE BY EDWARD DOWDEN, LL.D.

VOLUME I.

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON BROWNE

LONDON:

BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.G.

GLASGOW. EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.

1898

PEE F AC E.

Although the General Introduction must be left till the completion of the Work, it is necessary to say a few words here with regard to the various distinctive features of this edition, for the invention of wliich I am - chiefly responsible. The guiding principle, which has been kept in view throughout, is the treatment of Shakespeare's work as that of a dramatist, whose plays were intended not to be read as poetical exercises, but to be ^ represented by living men and women before a general audience. Mr. ^- Irving having, in his Introduction, treated Shakespeare as a playwright, Sc that is to say a practical writer of plays, it is not necessary for me to say any more on this point. I would simply point out that, in accordance with this principle, there Avill be found in this edition more explicit stage directions than there are in other modern editions of Shakespeare. But . they are not so many aS might be expected; because, after all, Shake- -s speare's text contains in itself the best stage directions, and because ^ many points bearing upon gesture or by-play of the actor have been _ pointed out in the notes. Again, before adopting any emendation, the -I fact that the words have to be spoken and not read has always been 3 borne in mind; and therefore no alteration of the text has been made t without considering the requirements, not only of the sense and metre, but also of what may be called the dramatic rhythm; that is to say, the rhythm which the sentiment or passion of the words may require in order to be spoken with due dramatic effect. The superiority of Shake- speare as a dramatist can onh^ be fully appreciated by reading his plays aloud; and therefore every assistance has been given to the reader by marking those words, or syllables, which, contrary to ordinary usage, are to be accented by the speaker.

431872

vi PREFACE.

It is with the ohject of assisting tliose who read Shakespeare aloud, either in private or in pubhe, tliat those passages which may be omitted in the recitation or representation of the plays, as suggested by Mr. Ir\ing, have been marked in a clear and simple manner. Mr. C, Flower of Stratford-on-Avon has published some twenty of the plays separately, in which the passages generally omitted on the stage are printed in a smaller type; but there has been hitherto no edition in which this practice has been adopted throughout. Some of Shakespeare's plays have been already published by Mr. Irving as prepared by him t\u' dramatic purposes; but the passages omitted in this edition will not be found always to correspond with those omitted in Mr. Irving's Lyceum editions, and, of course, tlie transpositions of scenes cannot be marked. In fact this edition does not pretend to be, as many paragraphs in the newspapers have announced, an acting edition of Shakespeare; but what we do claim for it is that, while giving the whole of Shakespeare's text, anyone with the aid of this edition could easily prepare an acting version of any of the plays either for private or public representation; and also tliat it affords most necessary help to those who wish to read Shakespeare aloud, either at home or on the platform. It need scarcely be pointed out that these omissions are not merely such as would be made in a so-called "Bowdlerized" edition: but the passages placed between brackets are those which may, without any detriment to the story or action of the play, be left out. Anyone who, without any practical knowledge or stage experience, has trie<l to an-ange a scene of Shakespeare for the purpose of public reading, will know how dithcult it is to mark the omissions which are necessaiy without intci-rnpting the s('(|U('ncc of the story, or obscuring its intelligibility.

The treatment of words ending in cd has been slightly different from that employed by most modern editors. The First Folio (1()28) lias been followed, except in very few instances. With i-egard to the elisicm of the final syllable of such words, not only in the verse portions l)ut also in the prose portions of the plays, the greatest care would seem to have been exercised by the editors of the First Folio; a most impor- tant point, it need scarcely be said, as far as the actor or speaker of

PEEFACE. vii

the verse is concerned. In the prose portions tlie tinal ed seems to be generally elided when the speaker is speaking familiarly. It may he therefore as well to note that, wherever it is not e^lided in this edition, the syllable ed is supposed to be pronounced l)y the reader. Words ending in ion, as "action," "confusion," &c., must not be pronounced in the usual slovenly way in vogue nowada3^s, as if they were spelt " acsliun," " confushun," Ijut as if the ion were the two last syllables of a dactyl. If attention is not paid to this rule, some of the lines of Shakespeare will be curtailed of one syllable where the poet did not intend it.

The foot-notes have been confined to the translation of any foreign or Latin words occurring in the text, and to the explanation of such words as would not be I'eadily understood hy an ordinary reader; the object V)einir to prevent the necessitv of turnino- to the notes, at the end of each play, for explanation of any one word the meaning of which such reader might not know. The number of such foot-notes has been limited as nnich as possible ; l)ut it was thought better to err on the side of explain- ing too many words rather than too few, although such explanations will doubtless seem quite unnecessary to those who are well accpiainted with the language of Shakespeare.

For the convenience of the student, as well as of the general reader, the Introductions have been divided into three heads: (1) "The Literary History," which treats of the various early editions of the plays and the source whence the plot, or dialogue, may have been wholly, or in part, borrowed. (2) " The Stage History," — which I regret to say is, in many cases, very scanty, as we have so few early records of the representations of Sliakesj)eare's plays — giving an account of any remarkable stage versions of the plays Avhich may have been produced, as well as some notice of the most remarkable performances and of any notable cast. (3) " The Critical Remarks," in which I have purposely abstained from (juoting the criticisms of others. It appears to me that such a practice is neither advantageous to the reader, nor to the writers from whom such criticism, necessarily more or less mutilated, may be taken; and I venture to presume that an editor who has been studying a play

viii PREFACE.

closely, and li\ing, as it were, with the \"ari()us characters, ouglit to have something worth saying on his own account without giving the opinions of others.

For the Time Analysis given at the beginning of each play I am indebted to Mr. P. A. Daniel's wt)rk on that subject, for which all students of Shakespeare should feel grateful to the author.

With regard to the text itself it is, as will be seen, no mere reprint of any former editi<m, though we have taken as our model Dyce (third edition), who seems to hit the just medium between slavish adherence to the old copies and a reckless adoption of modern emendations. The early printed Quartos of Shakespeare's plays, nearly all of which w^ere surrep- titiously pul)lished, are, no doubt, of great value in correcting some of the errors in the First Folio, and in supplying passages omitted in that edition, which was mainly founded on the copies of the plays that existed in the theatre of which Shakespeare had been part manager. In all cases where the original text either of Quartos or Folios has not been followed, reasons have been given for such a course in the notes; and whenever we have ventured to print any original emendation, the fact has been pointed out in the list of such emendations appended to each play; so that the critical reader may see at t)nce what innovations have been introduced into this text. They will be found to be comparatively few, and we trust, in no case, will be considered rash or unnecessary. Great attention has been paid to the punctuation of the text, a point neglected by some modern editors, especially with regard to the use of commas, which are most important as guides to the reader or reciter, and to the actor are positively necessary.

The maps to be found prefixed to the notes of many of the plays are, it is believed, quite a new feature. They will be found useful for the purposes of reference in the historical plays, and will enable the reader to follow the incidents of those plays with greater ease; while even in the non-historical plays, they will serve to illustrate some of the notes.

As for the notes themselves, I should have liked to have separated those which relate purely to diserepancifs or errors in the various texts,

+■

PREFACE. ix

as well as those which relate to questions of grammar or pliilology, from the general notes. But it was thought advisable, after mature considera- tion, not to make any such distinction. No difficulty has been con- sciously shirked: while it has been borne in mind that the difficulties, which may exist for the general reader who is unacquainted with the literature of the Ehzabethan age, might easily escape the notice of those familiar with such literature. In a work like this, intended for the general public, it is better, perhaps, that the notes should be too many rather than too few. In all cases where it is possible, Shakespeare's meaning has been explained b}^ reference to some one or other of his contemporaries; and, whenever practicable, all quotations have been taken from the works of the author quoted, and have been carefully verified. The notes referring to subjects connected with natural history or botany have been made ampler than is usual in most editions; for Shakespeare's references to the animals and plants of liis native laud cannot but be interesting to the general reader, if only as showing how cl'-sely he observed objects in the country, and studied them with as much loving- attention as he did the characters of men and women in the town. Many of the popular superstitions, that existed with regard to the wild animals and flowers in Shakespeare's time, still exist. On this subject my obli- gation to such writers as Harting and Ellacombe will be sufficiently apparent from the notes.

One word as to the notes on the Dramatis Personfe, prefixed to the historical plays. Richard II. had already been printed when, in pre- paring the notes for King John, it occurred to me that it would be very advantageous to give all the information referring to the Dramatis Personse together at the beginning of the notes. In order to accomplish this the publishers did not hesitate to recast all the notes of Richard II., though they had already been stereotyped. This is only one of many instances in which they have spared neither trouble nor expense to carry out the various details of the plan suggested by me. Mr. George Russell French's excellent book, Shakespeariana Genealogica, suggested this idea to me; and if I have been able, by the assistance of other books, to supplement the information given by him in that valuable work, it does

X PEEFACE. ^

not lessen the obligation which I owe to his labours. No pains have been spared in trying to obtain the utmost accuracy in these notes; but the task of tracing the intermarriages between the various noble families during the Wars of the Roses is one of the greatest difficulty.

The lists of words peculiar to each play — that is to say, the words which are found only in that play, or in the poems of Shakespeare — will, I trust, prove not merely interesting but u.seful to students of the language of Shakespeare. It will be seen that the proportion of such words is much larger in some plays than in others, and in those plays (the three parts of Henry VI. for instance), of ^^•llich we know Shakespeare to have been only i)art author, it is possible that, through the medium of the words distinctly peculiar which occur in those plays, we may be assisted in the solution of the vexed question as to who were his collaborators. We may be able also, through the exam- ination of these words, to trace, in some measure, under what literary influence Shakespeare was when writing any particular play; and by distinguishing between those words which are merely incidental to any particular character, — such, for instance, as the attected pedant Holo- fernes in Love's Labour 's Lost — and those which are employed b}- tlu- author, when writing as a poet rather than as a dramatist, one may arrive at some interesting internal evidence as to the period of Shake- speare's career to which the various plays belong. For instance, if we find in any play several words used, which occur more than once in the Sonnets or the Poems, we may assign such a play more confidently, if the other evidence, external or internal, coincides, to his earlier period.

The plays have been arranged in this edition, as nearly as possible in the order in which they are supposed to have been written by Shake- speare. But, as is well known, the opinions of the best authorities difllr verj' much as to what the exact order of such an an-ano-ement oudit to be. Our object has been to give in each volume as much variety as is possible, consistent with those principles, to which we consider we shall have sufficiently adhered, if we have kept together those plays which belong to the three periods into which Shakespeare's literary career is generally divided, viz. the early, the middle, and tlie last period.

, PREFACE. xi

For the delay which has occurred in the production of this h)ng- promised edition I fear I must be held respon.sible. The causes which have led to such delay have been various; but it is not necessary for nie to specify them. The publishers have been fortunate enough to secure the hearty co-operation of more than one Shakespearian scholar, whose names will be a sufficient guarantee of the excellence of their work, and without whose aid I could not have had any hope of bringing the work to a conclusion for some years to come.

It only remains for me to express my heartiest thanks for the kind and courteous help afforded me by such distinguished editors of Shake- speare as Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps and Dr. Furnivall, and others, to whom grateful acknowledgment will be more fitly made at the conclusion of the work.

Finally, as gratitude is said to be " a lively sense of favours to come," I will thank, by anticipation, those who shall be kind enough to correct any errors they may detect in this edition, or to supply any information on points left partially or wholly unexplained. Any communications addressed either to the pulilishers or to me shall receive the fullest attention.

F. A. MARSHALL.

London, November, 1887.

CONTENTS.

Page

Shakespeare as a Playwright, by Henry Irving, xvii

LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST, 1

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS, 73

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, 121

ROMEO AND JULIET, 177

KING HENRY VL— PART L, 257

PASSAGES AND SCENES ILLUSTEATED.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

Act I. scene 1. lines 119, 1"20, . . 7

Biron {reads]. "Item, that uo woman shall come within a mile of my court."

Act I. scene 1. lines 189, 190, . . 10

Dull. . . . There's villauy aI)ro:ul: this letter will tell you more.

Act I. scene 2. lines 146, 147, . . 13

Ann. I love thee.

Jaq. So I heard you say.

Act II. scene 1. line 1, . . .15

Boyet. Now, madam, summon np your dearest spirits.

Act III. scene 1. lines 1, 2, . . 19

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

Act III. scene 1. lines 162, 163, . . 21

Biron. Hark, slave, it is but this.

Act IV. scene 2. line 13, . .25

Hoh Most barbarous intimation !

Act IV. scene 3. lines 1 29, 130, . . 29

Long. [advuncingX . . . You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, To be o'erbeard, and taken napping so.

Act IV. scene 3. line 152,

31

Biron [advancing]. . thee, pardon me !

Ah, good my liege, I praj'

Act V. scene 1. line 37, . . . 34

Arm. Men of peace, well encountered.

Act V. scene 2. line 29, . . . 37

Prill. M'ell bandied both ; a set of wit well playVl.

Act V. scene 2. lines 94, 95, . . 39

Boyet. I stole into a neighbour thicket by. And overheard what you shall overhear.

Act V. scene 2. line 230, . . 40

Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

Act V. scene 2. lines 383, 384, . . 43

Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess ! Bos. All the fool miue?

Act V. scene 2. lines 72.3-725, (Etchinrj) 48

Mer. God save j-ou, madam ! Prin. AVelcome, Mercade, but that thou inter- ruptest our merriment.

Tailpiece, Returning from the Revels,

51

CONTENTS.

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

Act I. scene 1. lines 95, 96, . . 79

^■Ej/e. O, let me siy no more I Gather the sequel hy that went Ijofnre.

Act I. scene 2. line 91, . . . S2

Ant. S. What, wilt thmi flout me thus unto my face?

Act II. scene 1. lines 87, 88, . . 85

Adi: His company must do his minions grace. Whilst 1 at home starve for a merry look.

Act III. scene 1. lines 32, 33, . . 89

Dro. S. Jlome, malt-horse, ('apon, coxcomb, idiot, patcli ! Kither get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch.

Act III. scene 2. line 29,

Ant. S. Sweet mistress,— what your name is els 1 know not.

91

Act III. scene 2. lines 71, 72,

Ant. a. Why, how now, Dromio ; where ruun'st thou so fast ?

Act IV, scene 2. line 32, .

1)1-9. S. 'So, he's in Tartar liml>o, worse than hell.

93

Act IV. scene 4. line 110,

(Etching/) lUl

J'iiich. More comjiany I— The fiend is strong within liim.

Act Y. scene 1. line 133,. . .104

AJi: Justice, most sacred duke, against the ahbtss :

Act V. scene 2. lines 423, 42.5, . .108

Dro. E. Nay, then, thus : . . . let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Act V. scene 4. lines 1-3,

Vul. How use doth breed a habit in a man ! These shadowy, desert, unfreciuented woods, I better brook than nourishing peopled towns.

Act I. scene 1. lines 61, 62,

Pi'i). AH happiness bechance to thee in Jlilau I Val. As much to you at home 1 and so, farewell.

127

129

132

Act I. scene 2. line 108, .

Jul. Ill kiss each several paper for amends.

Act I. scene 3. lines 84, 85, . .133

Flo. 0, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day.

Act II. scene 3. lines 16-18, .137

Lannce. Nay, 1 '11 show you tlie iiiauucr of it. Tliis shoe is my father : no, this left shoe is my father.

Act II. scene 4. lines 23-26, . .139

Sil. What, angry. Sir Thurio ! do you change colour? Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon.

Act II. scene 5. lines 40, 41, . . 142

Luiince. Thou shall never get such a secret from me but by a parable.

Act III. scene 1. lines 4, 5, . . 145

Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover The law of friendship bids me to conceal.

Act III. scene 1. lines 157, 158, .

JJiike. (io, basj intruder! overweening slave ! Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal nu.tc--.

Act IV. scene 1. line 3, .

Third Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you liavi about ye.

14/

l.v2

Act IV. scene 4. line 29, . . . 156

Luxmct. "Friend," quoth I, "you mean to whip the dog? " "Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he.

Act IV. scene 4. lines 203, 204, . . 1 59

■Jul. O thou senseless form

Thou shalt lie worshipp'il, kiss'd, lovd and ador'd !

Act V. scene 4. lines 60, 61, {Etchhui) 161

Vul. Ruffian, let co that rude uncivil touch, Thou friend of an ill fnsliiou 1

ROMEO AND JULIET.

Act I. scene 1. line 74, . . .185

Ti/h. Turn thee, Beuvolio, look uiion thy deatli.

Act I. scene 1. line 51, . . . 186

Ahr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Act I. scene 1. line 231, . . .189

Uin. He nilil by me. forget to think of her.

Act I. scene 3. line 5, . . .192

Enter JiLlET.

Act I. scene 4. line 53, . {Etching) 194

Mer. O, then, I see. Queen Mab hath been with you.

Act II. scene 2. line 33, . . .199

.Jul. 0 Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

CONTENTS.

Act II. scene 4. lines 150, 151,

■20i

iter. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,— [sidyiHy] lady, lady, lady.

Act III. scene 1. line 130, . .210

Rom. Now, Tybalt, take the " villain " back again.

Act III. scene 3. lines 74, 75, . . 215

Fri. L. Romeo, arise ! — Thou wilt be taken.

Act III. scene 5. line 51, . . 218

Jul. O, thiuk'st thou we shall ever meet again?

Act IV. scene 1. line 121, . . 223

Jul. Give me, give me '. O, tell nut me »l fear !

Act IV. scene 3. line 58,

Jul. Romeo: I come. This do I drink to thee

Act V. scene 1. line 37, .

Rttm. I do remember an apothecary.

Act V. scene 3. line 72, .

Par. 0, I am slain!

Act V. scene 3. line 121, .

Fri. L. Saint Francis be ray speed :

Act V. .scene 3. lines 309, 310, .

Prince. For never was a story of mnn- woe Than this of .Juliet and her Romeo.

XV

225 229 231 233 235

KING HENRY VI.— PART I.

Act I. scene 1. line 18, . . . 265

Exe. Henry is dead, and never shall revive.

Act I. scene 2. lines 76-78, . . 269

Pile. Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, . And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, God's mother deigned to appear to me.

Act I. scene 3. lines 45-47, . . 271

Glo. AVhat! am I dar"d and bearded to my face? Draw, men, fur all this privileged place ; Blue coats to tawny.— Priest, beware your beard.

Act I. scene 4. line 11, . . .273

Jf. Gim. In yonder tower, to o'erpeer the city.

Act II. scene 1. lines 26, 27, . . 277

Tal. God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

Act II. scene 3. lines 16, 17, . . 280

Count. Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad That with his name the mothers still their babes?

Act II. scene 5. line 122, . . 284

Plan. Here dies the dusky torch of Murtimer.

Act III. scene 3. line 1, . . . 290

Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident.

Act IV. scene 1. lines 45, 46, . . 295

King. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy donni! Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight.

Act IV. scene 5. lines 1, 2, . . 298

Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee 'I'o tutor thee In stratagems of war.

Act IV. scene 7. line 32, . . . 302

Tal. Xow my old arms are young Jnhn Talbot's grave.

Act V. scene 3. lines 110, 111, (Etehinfj) 306

Snf. Say, gentle princess, would you not supi)Ose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?

Act V. scene 5. lines 1, 2, . .310

King. Your wondrous rare description, noble enrl. Of beauteous Margaret hath astonishd me.

Act V. scene 5. line 103, . . .311

.■>'t(/. Thus Suffolk hath prevaild.

SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWRIGHT.

-*»<3>^0<t>-

I daresay that it will appear to some readers a profanation of the name of Shakespeare to couple with it the title of playwright. But I have chosen this title for my introduction because I am anxious to show that with the mighty genius of the poet was united, in a remark- able degree, the capacity for writing plays intended to be acted as well as read. One often finds that the very persons who claim most to reverence Shakespeare, not only as a poet but also as a dramatist, carry that reverence to such an extent that they would almost forbid the representation of his plays upon the stage, except under conditions which are, if not impossible, certainly impracticable.

Shakespeare was one of the most practical dramatists which the world has ever seen, and this notwithstanding that he lived in an age when the drawbacks which existed to the proper representation of stage plays were very many. It must not be thought that in claiming for him this quality one necessarily detracts, in the slightest degree, from his greater qualities as a poet. But surely the end of all plays is to be acted, and not to be simply read in the study. It is no reproach against a dramatist, whose object it is to produce plays, that he should prove himself a good playwright; for that is only equivalent to saying that he does his work well. Indeed there is no reason why we should praise him as a dramatist if his plays will not bear acting. During his lifetime Shakespeare took extraordinary pains to prevent his plays being published: not that he feared the literary test, but because it diminished their value as works for the stage, inasmuch as it enabled other companies, in which he was not interested, to act them without his deriving any profit. It is (juite possible that, had Shakespeare lived,

xviii SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWRIGHT.

lie would liave brought out an edition of his plays as literary works, and would have bestowed upon their revision the greatest care. But, unfortunately, if such was his purpose, he did not live to fulfil it; and the consequence is that to the actors, and not to the ingenious pub- lishers wh(j "conveyed" his plays into print, we owe the preservation of the complete dramatic works of William Shakespeare. If his plays had not been successful in the staging, if they had not been frecjuently represented in action, we may venture to say that only a very few of them would have come down to us. It was surely on account of their popularity as acting plays that they were published without the author's consent. There can be no better test of the skill of a playwright than that his work should be popular, not only in his own time, but also with posterity, and in countries where the language in which he wrote is almost unknown. It must be admitted that Beaumont and Fletcher, and Ben Jonson, were considered superior to Shakespeare by many persons, both during his lifetime and for some considerable time after his death. Yet, as far as we can discover, in his own day, Shakespeare more than held his own; and, with the exception of a period after the Restoration, when the worst taste in dramatic literature prevailed, Shakespeare's popularity has ever since increased; while that of Beaumont and Fletcher, Ben Jonson, Marlowe, Chapman, and all his other contemporaries, has declined, till, at the present time, their plays have almost ceased to be represented on the stage.

It is fortunate that we have the means of practically testing Shakespeare's excellence as a playwright by comparing his work with the old plays which he used as materials. Take, for example, " The Taming of the Shrew," in which, as Shakespeare's adaptation resem- ]>les the original so very closely iKjth in plot and in the principal characters, we have a very gt)od opportunity of judging his capacity by reading the old play side by side with his own. In Mr. Marshall's notes to this edition there will be found many instances of the skill which Shakespeare has shown, not only in important modifications in the language of that play, but also in the action. In King John

SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWKIGHT. xix

anil King- Lear it is scarcely jDossible to recognize the crude originals as transformed by Shakespeare's genius. There are, indeed, many plays which, though not suggested by the work of other dramatists, as far as we know, were founded on stories which fortunately have been preserved to us. In these we can see wath what unerring tact Shakespeare selected the most effective incidents for treatment on the stage, with what wide and deep knowledge of human nature he brought to life the characters of history, and how thoroughly he knew the greatest secret of a successful dramatist — how to enlist the sympathies of an audience for his hero or heroine, without making them prodigies of consistent virtue. It is with Shakespeare's heroes and heroines, as it is in real life; those we love the best have the least pretension to perfection; we love them all the more for their inconsistencies and their faults; perhaps because their very defects make us acknowledge them the more readily as our fellow-creatures. In this human imper- fection of character lies much of the fascination of Hamlet. Equally striking is the effective use which Shakespeare makes of a situation, when he finds one in the story on wliich he has founded his plot, or invents one for himself. In nothing is the instinct of a true dramatist more forcibly exemplified. It is a common experience that a play which is excellent in all other respects, often falls short of success because the writer either fails to recognise a situation, when it naturally <jccurs, or, if he do recognise it, is unable to turn it to the best account.

Of the stage traditions of Shakespeare we know nothing, though we are told they descended from Burbage, Taylor, and Lowin to Davenant, and were given b}' him to Betterton. For fifty j^ears Betterton held the position of the greatest actor of his day; and during that half-century, although the prejudices and predilections of the literary taste of the day were alike hostile to Shakespeare's works, Betterton had only to appear in Mercutio, Macbeth, or, above all, in Hamlet to draw the town. It was not till after the Restoration that the idea seems generally to have prevailed that Shakespeare wanted improving: that, in order to be acted, his plays must be adapted

XX SHAKESPEAEE AS A PLAY WEIGHT.

by some literary genius of that day. Even Dryden, great poet as lie was, and sincere admirer of Shakespeare, did his best to spoil The Tempest; while such inferior men as Davenant, Crowne, and, later on. Gibber, found a congenial task in degrading as much as possible the poetry of Shakespeare to the level of connnonplace. Anyone who is interested in these labours will find the fruits of them in such pieces as Davenant's Law against Lovers (a fusion of Measure for Measure and Much Ado), and his version of Macbeth; Crowne's Miseries of Civil War (Henri/ VI.); Colley Gibber's Papal Tyranny (King John), and his bombastic Richard III. Even in Garrick's day the public, which eagerly applauded his acting, and welcomed his purer and wholesomer style of dramatic art, continued to tolerate mutilated versions of the works of our greatest dramatist; Garrick himself supplying a version of Romeo and Juliet. There is an old engraving representing Mr. Holman and Miss Brunton in the scene at Gapulct's tomb. Underneath this picture are these lines: —

J)iliet. — You fright me . . . Speak . . . O, let me hear .some voice

Besides my own in this drear vault of death,

Or I shall faint. . . Support me . . .

Romeo.— . . O, I cannot . . I have no strength . . but want

Thy feeble aid. . . Cruel poison I

Shakespeare.

It will puzzle the reader to find this passage in an}' edition of the dramatist; and yet there is no doubt that many persons in all inno- cence accepted these words as having been written by Shakespeare.

It is well known that for many years Gibber's Richard III. was the only version of that play with which the majority of Eng- lishmen were acquainted; indeed, Porson said that for one man who knew Shakespeare's play there were more than ten who knew only Gibber's; and the inflated commonplaces of the latter were accepted as the work of the great poet himself.

All the principal comedies were, at one time or other, mo.st reck- lessly manipulated ; while of the tragedies, Romeo and Juliet, Lear, and Macbeth suffered much from these improvers of our poet. Perhaps, if we were asked to name the ideal representative of Hamlet, we should say

SHAKESPEAEE AS A PLAYWRIGHT. xxi

Betterton was the actor who seems to have satislied most full}^ the fasti- (hous requh-ements of such intellectual lights as Diyden, Steele, and Pope, and who enjoyed the advantage, as has already been said, of having leceived, only at second hand, the poet's own ideas as to the mode of realizing on the stage his great creation. Yet to those who have always been ready to believe that Betterton, even when comparatively an old man, was the best representative of Hamlet, it is humiliating to tind, on examinino- the acting text which was in use at his theatre, that the greatest liberties were taken with the author's language. In many plays of Shakespeare the omission of passages, the moditication of certain words or phrases, and the transposition of some scenes, are all absolutely necessary before they can be acted; but the popular taste nowadays A\()ukl not permit an actor to take such liberties with the text as were once thought not only pardonable but commendable; and indeed, the more the actor plays Shakespeare, the more he must be convinced that to attempt to improve the language of our greatest dramatist is a very hopeless task.

Much objection has been made to the employment of the sister arts of music and painting in the stage representation of Shakespeare, and to the elaborate illustrations of the countries in which the various scenes are laid, or of the dress and surroundings of the different characters. I do not contend that a pla^', fairly acted, cannot be fully effective without any of these aids and adjuncts. But, practically, their value has ceased to be a matter of opinion; they have become necessary. They are dictated by the public taste of the day— not by the desire for mere scenic display, but that demand for finish in details which has grown with the development of art in all its phases. A painter who shcjuld neglect truthful detail, however broad and powerful his method, would nowadays be exposed to severe criticism. This is not a proof of decadence; it is a striving after completeness. The stage has become not only a mirror of the passions, but also a nursery of the arts, for here students of the past learn the form and colour of the costumes and the decorations of distant ages. To all this there are clear limits. It is not always possible to reproduce an historic period with exactness.

xxii SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWKlGH'i'.

Macbeth, and Lear, and Handet belong to history too remote tVr Hdelity of costume. But a period has, in such cases, to be chosen and followed with conscientious thoroughness, tempered by discrimination. Above all, the resources of the pictures(|ue must be wholly subordinate to the play. Mere pageant apart from the story has no place in Shake- speare, although there may be a succession of truthful and harmonious pictures which shall neither hamper the natural action, nor distract the judgment from the actors art. In fine, there is no occasion to apologize for the system of decoration. True criticism begins when the manager carries ornament to excess, for then he sins against the laws of beauty as well as against the poet. Tried by this standard, a successful representa- tion of a Shakespeare play may be ranked as a worthy tribute to the genius which commands the homage of all art, and which has laid on us the memorable injunction of " an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine." — (Handet, ii. '2. 1(35-167.)

I suppose the vexed question whether bhakespeare disliked his \oca- tion as an actor will never pass out of the region of controversy. We shall always be told that the lament in the Sonnets over the " public means which public manners breeds" marked the poet's sense of his own degradation on the stage. But against this theory I would enter an earnest protest. First, because it is by no means established tliat the allusions in the Sonnets are personal to Shakespeare; and, secondly, because they are wholly inconsistent with his masterly exposition of the actor's art in Handet's well-known speech to the players. On the first point there is undeniably a conflict of cultivated opinion; on the second there is not, and cannot be, any dispute whatever. The players are " tin- abstract and brief chronicles of the time." It is their noble function to "hold tlie mirror up to nature:" and the whole scope and subtlety of their art receive from Shakespeare the most apt, eloquent, and compre- hensive definition. No player, who despised his calling, and solennily charged fortune with the "harmful deeds" which that calling compelled him to commit, could have put upon immortal record this virulication of the art which was Ijotli his pride and his livelihood. No douljtful expres-

SHAKESPEAKE AS A PLAYWRIGHT. xxiii

sion which escaped him can be set against the weight of his own authority. You might as well say that Macbeth's

poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more.

—Macbeth, v. .">. :^4-2(i.

is a ht companion for the " idiot," in the same speech, whose tale is " full ( if sound and fury, signifying nothing," and that such symbols are appro- priate to the undying fame of Roscius or Burbage, of David Garrick or Edmund Kean. " If there is amongst the defective records of the poet's life," says Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, " one feature demanding special respect, it is the unflinching courage with which, notwithstanding his desire for social position, he braved public opinion in favour of a continued adher- ence to that which he felt was in itself a noble profession, and this at a time when it was not merely despised but surrounded by an aggressive fanaticism that prohibited its exercise even in his own native town." The stage cannot be dissociated from Shakespeare, either as the poet or as the man. It was the lever with which he moved the world: and, while we accord to him the supremacy of literature, it is but just to remember the practical aid he derived from his judgment and experience as playwright and player.

A'

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST,

NOTES AND INTRODUCTION

BY

F. A. MARSHALL.

^

DRAMATIS PERSON^.i

Ferdinand, King of Navarre.

BiRON,- \

LoNGAViLLE,-^ > Lorcls atteiuliug on the King.

DUMAIN, '

BoYFT )

' . ; Lords attending on the Princess of France. Mercade,-' )

Don Adriano de Armado,'' a Spaniard.

Sir Nathaniel, a Curate.

Holofernes, a Schoohnaster.

Dull, a Constable.

Costard,^ a Clown.

Moth,* Page to Armado.

A Forester.

Princess of Frahce.

Rosaline,'' \

Maria, > Ladies attending on the Pi'incess.

Katharine, '

Jaquenetta, a Country "Wench.

Lords, Attenilants, &c.

The Scene is laid in Navarre.

Historical Period : about the year 1427.

TIME OF ACTION, Two Days:"— First day, Acts I. and II.; Second day, Acts III. to V.

1 Dramatis Persons : first enumerated by Rowe.

2 BiRON, spelt Bcroione in Q. 1, F. 1, Q. 2: the accent is invariably on the last syllable. On the title-pages of the two plays of Chapman founded ou the history of the celebrated Due De Birou, the name is spelt in both in- stances Byron.

3 LoNOAViLLK, spelt Longavill in Q. 1, F. 1, Q. 2 ; made to rhyme with ill in iv. 3. 12.3.

< BoYET, pronounced with the accent on the last syl- lable; made to rhyme to debt in v. 2. 334. 5 Mercade, printed Marcade in Qq. and Ff. | festly right

2

c Armado, somethnes written Annallio; in Q. 1 ami F. 1 often called the Brafjgart.

? Costard, often called in Q. I, F. 1 simply Clown.

8 Moth. Grant White suggests that Moth should be written Mote, " as it was clearly thus pronounced." Cer- tainly mote is written moth both by Q. 1 and F. 1, in iv. 3. 161.

0 KOSALISE, made to rhyme with thine, iv. 3. 221.

10 See Hunter's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 257 and note 41.

11 This is Ml-. T. A. Daniel's calculation, and is mani-

LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST.

INTRODUCTION.

LITERARY HISTORY.

Love's Labour 's Lost was liublished for the first time in quarto with the following title : —

"A I Pleasant | Conceited Comedie | called I Loues labors lost. | As it was pi-esented be- fore her Highnes | this last Christmas | Newly corrected and augmented | By W. Shakespere. Imjn-inted at London by IT. IT. \ for Ctdk- bert nvA»j, 1598."

The folio edition is, more or less, a reprint of this c^uarto, differing mainly in its being di\'ided into acts. The Cambridge editors add, "and as usual inferior in accuracy;" but in that sweeping judgment I cannot agree. ^ In some cases the readings of the Quarto are pre- ferable, in others those of the Folio. Tlie .Second Quarto (Q. 2) is rejjrinted from the First Folio.

It bears the following title : —

"Loues Labours lost. | A wittie and plea- sant I comedie, | As it was Acted by his Ma- iesties Seruants at | the Blacke-Friers and the Globe. I Written \ By "William Shakesjjeare. | London, | Printed by W. S. for John Smeth- v-icke, and are to be | sold at his shop in Saint Dunstones Church -yard vnder the Diall. | 1631."

The date of this play may be fixed with toleraltle accuracy about 1.589-90. It cer- tainly is one of Shakespeare's earliest, if the evidence, afforded by metre and style, is worth anything. As compared with The Comedy of EiTors, Love's Labour 's Lost has nearly twice as many rhymed lines as blank verse, while the former play has only one rhyme in three. In the scarcity of eleven-syllable lines among

' See Mr. FuriiivaH's admirable analysis of tlie dilTer- euces between Q.l and F.l, in his " Forewords " to Griggs' Facsimile of Q.l.

the blank verse ; in the quantity of doggerel and of alternate rhymes, this play bears the usual characteristics of Shakespeare's earliest style more strongly mai'ked than The Comedy of Errors or The Two Gentlemen of Verona The allusions contained in Love's Labour 's Lost, which help to settle the date of it, are the references to "Bankes's horse" (i. 2. 57), whose fii'st exhibition is said to have been in 1589; to "Monarcho," a crazy Italian,^ so called because he claimed to be the monarch of the world, to whom allusions may be found in an epitaph by Churchyaixl (1580), and in A Brief Discourse of the Sjianish State, 4to, 1590; as well as the adoption by Shakespeare of names for some of his principal chai-acters from those of persons who figured prominently in French politics from 1581 to 1590, such as Biron, Longaville, Dumain (Due du Maine). (See S. L. Lee'.s communication, given in Furnivall's "Forewords" to Facshnile of First Quarto.)

This play is mentioned, in 1598, by two writers ; by Meres in the well-known passage in Palladis Tamia, and by Robert Tofte in a poem called Alba: or the Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, who speaks of it as a play he "once did see," implpng that he saw it some time before. Dr. Grosart, in his edi- tion of Eobert Southwell's poems (written about 1594), professes to find an adaptation of a passage from this play (iv. 3. 350-353) in a description of the eyes of our Saviour. Drum- mond of Ha^vtllornden enumerates among the books he read in 1606, Loties Labors Lost.

As to the source from which Shakespeare derived the story of Love's Labour 's Lost, no-

2 His real name was Bergamasco, as appears from A Brief Discourse of the Spanish State, Ac, 4to, ciuoted by Staunton.

3

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

tiling is known. No older play on the s<ame subject has yet been discovered, nor any story upon which it could have been founded.' Undoubtedly it was revised and altered by Shakespeare, considerably, between the date of its first production and that of its publication. The last two acts, especially, bear unmistak- able marks of the author's revision. The lines (iv. 3. 299-304)- are evidently the first ver- sion of the subsequent lines 320-323, and 350-353; as are the lines v. 2. 827-832,- of lines 850-863 in the same scene. In both cases the earlier versions are very nuich in- ferior to the later amplifications.

STAGE HISTORY.

Very little is known of the stage history of this play. From the title-page of the first quarto we know that it was acted at court at Christmas, 1597, before Queen Elizabeth; that it was revived in 1604 we know from a letter*^ of Sir Walter Cope, addressed to Lord C'rau- borne, and endorsed 1604.

" I have sent and been all this morning hunting for players, jugglers, and such kind of creatures, but find them hard to find ; wherefore, leaving notes for them to seek me, Burbage is come, and says there is no new play which the queen hath not seen; but they have revived an old one, called Loves Lahore Lost, which for wit and mirth he says will please her exceedingly. And this is appointed to be played to-morrow night at my Lord of Southampton's, unless you send a writ to re- move the corpus cum causa to your house in Strand. Burbage is iny messenger. Ready at- tending your ])leasure. — Yours most humbly, Walter Cove."

No mention of this play having been acted occurs in Henslowe's Diary, 1591-1609, nor in Pepys, nor in Genest, whose work em- braces the period between 1660 and 1830. In

1 Hunter gives a passage from Monstrelet, in which a payment of "two hundred thousand goUl crowns" by the King of France to Charles, King of Navarre, is spoljen of. See ii. 1. 129-132, in tlie note on wliicli passage I have given the ((uotation in full.

2 The references here are to the lines in the Globe Edi- tion, as in this edition the redundant lines are omitted altogether.

^ Ingleby's Centurie of Prayse, second edition, p. G2. 4

October, 1839, under the management of Madame Vestris, Love's Labour's Lost was played at Coveiit Garden; the cast of this performance, as given in Duncombe's acting edition, included, among other well-known names, Mr. Harley asDonAdriano, Mr. Keeley as Costanl, Mis. Nisbett as the I'rincess, and Madame Vestris as liosaline. It was also acted in 1853 at Sadlers Wells, under the manage- ment of Mr. Phelps, who himself took the paii of Doa Adria/io* I can find no instance of its subseipient rei)reseiitation in our time.

Genest mentions a play called Students, and dated 1762, but never acted. He says: "This is professedly Love's Labour's Lost ada2)ted to the stage; but it does not seem to have been ever acted — the maker of the alteration (as is usual in these case.s) has left out too much of Shakespeare, and ])ut in t(jo much of his own stuff' — Biron is foolishly made to put tm Cos- tard's coat — in this disguise he speaks part of what belongs to Costard, and is mistaken for him by sevei'al of the characters. The curate and schoolmaster are omitted, but one of the pedantic sjjeeches belonging to the latter is absurdly given to a player. One thing is veiy hai3i)ily altered ; Arniado's letter to the king is omitted as a letter, and the contents of it are thi'own into Armadci's part. The cuckoo song is transferred from the end of the i)lay to the 2d act, in which it is sung by Moth. It is now usually sung in As you Like it."

CRITICAL REMARKS.

It may be difficult to point out Shakes- jieare's best ijlay, but there is little difficulty in pointing out his worst. Love's Labour 's Lost, whether we consider it as a drama, or as a study of character, or as a poetical work, is certainly the least to be admired of all his })lays. How little real attraction it possesses as a dx'ania is jjroved by the fact that, during the whole period over which Genest's record extends, Love's Labour's Lost was never once acted. It appears to have been fortunate enough to please Queen Elizabeth; but considering that Lilly's inlays found so great favour with that

4 I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. E. L. Blanchard fur the above information.

INTEODUCTION.

learned and virtuous sovereign, this fact does not say niucli for the intrinsic merits of Love's Labour's Lost. There is scarcely one scene which contains any real dramatic interest. Perhaps the best is the one, in which Biron overhears the confessions of love on the j)art of the king and the other two lords. His step- ping forth to whip hyjDocrisy is very amusing, considering that he has already confessed to the audience his own passion for Eosaline, and that he is almost immediately convicted of being equally false to his vows with those whom he has denounced, through the clumsy intervention of Costard and Jaciuenetta. In all Shakespeare's other plays, not excepting Timon of Athens, there is a gradually increasing dra- matic interest; but in this play no one who reads it, or who sees it acted, can care very much about the fate of any character in it. None of the female characters are developed suthciently to enlist our symjmthies; while the male ones produce, for the most part, only a sense of weariness in the reader or specfcitor. The individuality of each character is very slight. Biron and Boyet, Armado and Holo- fernes. Costard and Dull, Rosaline and Maria, are each like faint reflections of the other; they run in pairs, as it were, and the power which shoiUd have been concentrated on the one is frittered away on both. The end of the play is, to an audience, eminently unsatisfactory; no definite result is attained, and the spectator is simi)ly left to imagine that, in the course of a year or so, the various couples, male and female, are joined together in holy matrimony. The comic element is infinitely weaker even than in The Two Gentlemen of Verona; while, for construction and situation. The Comedy of Errors ranks far above Love's Labour 's Lost. It would seem that Shakespeare had two main objects in writing Love's Labour's Lost; first, to ridicule the euphuistic school, to sa- tirize the pedantic tone and tedious anti- theses of Lilly's plays; secondly, to laugh good- hurnouredly at the clumsy and inefl:"ective pageants, which it was then the custom for the counti-y people to present at the houses and in the gardens of the nobility, or at vil- lage fairs and festivals. One can well ima- gine that Shakespeare, when quite a young

man, feeling within himself the latent power of a great dramatist, nuist have been more or less incensed at the ridiculous exti'avagance of the praise awarded to John Lilly, who was at that time, undoubtedly, the most popular jjlay- wright. Lilly's comedies, or whatever he was pleased to call them, were performed by com- panies of boys in the presence of her gracious majesty Queen Elizabeth, who led the apjalause. The laborious and sententious style of dialogue, the vulgarly paiaded scholarship — if we may use such a term foi- the lavish sprinkling of Latin phrases,^ which Lilly puts into the mouth of every character, whether heathen god, or Christian clown — the utterly affected and un- natural sentiments, the absence of any real passion, all these points were just of the nature which Queen Elizabeth could thoroughly ap- preciate. Whatever the talent of her courtieis might be, they were far too submissive to dis- pute her judgment; and the lower classes, as far as they took any interest in the matter, followed suit: so that, during the period when Shakes- peare was growing from boyhood to manhood, John Lilly was accepted as the leading drama- tist of the age. It cannot be denied that Lilly had talent, or that his plays contain, here and there, flashes of merit and even of poetry; but his was essentially a false and unwholesome style of writing; and, indeed, had it been other- wise, he would scarcely have found favour at court then, or in later days. It is also true that Queen Elizabeth made some pretence, at a subsequent time, of appreciating Shakesijeai'e;-

1 Dr. Laudmann in his interesting paper on "Slialcspere and Euphuism" (New Shali. Soc. Transactions, Feb. 10, 1822), makes the astounding statement that "Lilly's style is free from Latin and foreign-English, nor does he in- dulge in Latin quotations." No one who reads Lilly's plays can fail to notice the ridiculous abundance of Latin quotations and sentences, assigned to every character, without the slightest regard to their appropriateness in the mouth of the person who speaks them.

2 Although Queen Elizabeth's style is generally over- sententious and affected, yet some of her writings— her letter to Esse.K, for instance (Nugrc Antiqufe, vol. i. p. 302)— are so clear and masterly, that one cannot well believe she really held Lilly superior to Shakespeare. But her vanity was so great, that she would not show any marked favour to one who declined to condescend to such adulations as Lilly did in his Cynthia's Revels, or Peele in his Arraignment of Paris. It is to Shakespeare-s honour that his writings are nowhere disfigured by such sycophancy.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

that is not the question at jireseat. What I Avisli to point out is, that the extravagance and tediousness of Loves Labour 's Lost may be attributed, in a great measure, to the over- anxiety of a young writer to satirize one, whose popularity he felt to be undeserved; and whose superior he kaiew himself to be, not with the self-conceit of a merely clever man, but with the intuition of genius. Shake- speare, however, fell into the fault which young writers, actuated by similar motives, generally display. His satii-e was so elaborate, that it became equally tedious with that which it sought to ridicule. Armado is quite as gi-eat a bore as Sir Tophas in Lilly's End}Tnion, and Moth may rival for his impertinence — in the sti'ict sense of the word — any of the numer- ous young prodigies who, under the title of "pages," infe.st Lilly'.s jilays. But, in .sjnte of all its faults, the .satii'e of Love's Labour 's Lost was, no doubt, very etiective. The popularity of Lilly seems to have faded before the li.sing star of those dramatists who, like Shakesjjeare, imitated his epigrammatic foix-e, while they infu.sed into their characters what his wanted, life and nature. For some time conceits had their day. It was a long day; but, bj'^ the time Shakesjieare's genius had begun to ma- ture, he was able to discard such adventitious aid and ornament.

The charactei- of Holofernes has been sup- posed by some commentators to have been intended for John Florio, the author of many works, and esjjecially of the well-known Ita- lian-English Dictionary which bears his name. Apart from other reasons, it may be doubted whether Shakesi)oare would have ridiculed one who was so especial a protege of the Eail of Southampt(jn as Florio was. It is more pro- bable that under cover of a character found, as The Pedant, in many old Italian comedies, Shakespeare intended to satirize the silly dis- play of Latinity which Lilly av;is so fond of making in his plays. Doubtless, as Dr. Land- mann points out, the Spanish bomljastic style is more specially ridiculed in Don Armado, 6

and, in the king and his courtiers, the love- sick affectations of the school which professed to follow Petrarch.

In his ridicule of such i)ageants as the clowns of Warwickshire presented before their liege lords, Shakespeare was more happy, be- cause less tedious; of course, in the admirable "Clown's scenes" of Midsummer's Night's Dream he reaches a far higher point than he does in this play. One can easily imagine the humorous, thoughtful face of the young lad from Stratford-upon-Avon amongst the crowd of sjjectators at one of those '"'' 'pleasant inteiiudes;" one can picture him as he notes down in his mind the amusing blunders of the rustic actors, and evolves from such scanty materials the rich humour of " P>Tamus and Thisbe."

As to the bearing of this play on the social questions of Shakespeare's day, I doubt if he had any intention to treat such serious matters, as the intellectual position of women com- pared with tha1> of men, in the work Ijefore us; nor can we draw any parallel between this play and Tennyson's Princess, without stretching conjecture to unjustifiable limits.

In all Shakespeare's earlier plays there is S( ime idea imj^erf ectly A\'orked out which fore- shadows one of his later and more jjerfect creations. The weak wit-combats, if they can be called so, of Biron and Rosaline, of Boyet and Maria, contain the feeble embryo of those matchless creation.s. Benedick and Beatnce.

It would be unfair to dismiss this play with- out noticing the gi'eat superiority, as far at least as jioetical merit goes, of the two last acts, which were, undoubtedly, much enlai'ged and improved by Shakesjieare, at some jieriod later than that of their original production. There is an elevation in the language of the Princess, in the la-st act, which belongs to a later period of Shakespem^e's career; and some of Biron's speeches contain evidence of a far more skilful touch, both in the metre and in the matter, than the writer possessed when executing the eiU'lier portions of the play.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I.

ScEXE I. The king of Xavarre's park.

Eater Ferdinand, king of Navarre, Biron, LoxGAViLLE, and Dumain.

King. Let fame, that all hunt after in theii'

lives, Live registeril ui^on our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, The endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen

edge, And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors, — for so you are. That war against your own aifections, And the huge army of the world's desires, — 10 Oui' late edict shall strongly stand in force: Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville, Have sworn for tlu'ee years' tenn to live with

me My fellow-scholare, and to keep those .statutes That are recorded in this schedule here: Your oaths are jiass'd; and now subscribe

your names,

That his own hand may strike his honour down That \aolates the smallest branch heivin : 21 If you are arm'd to do as .sworn to do, Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.

Long. I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three years'

fast :

The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:

Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits

Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the

wits.

Bum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortitied: The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves : To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; With all these living in philosophy. 32

Biron. I can but say their protestation over; So much, dear liege, I have alread}' sworn. That is, to live and study here three years. But there are other strict observances; As, not to see a woman in that term, Which I hope well is not enrolled there; And one day in a M^eek to touch no food And but one meal on every day beside, 40 The which I hope is not enrolled there; And then, to sleep but three hours in the night, And not be seen to wink of all the day — When I was wont to think no harm all night. 7

ACT I. Sceuf I.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I. Sceue 1.

And make a dark iii^dit too of half the day — Which I liope well is not enrolled there: 4i5 O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep! King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if yon please : so

I only swf)re to study with your grace, And stiiy hei'e in your court for three years' space. ^Long. You swure to that, Biron, and to

the rest. ' ' ''•*"•

Biron. By yea and "nay, feir; th^iiT's'wdre in jest. .' : '. ■: ^•' -' ■-■ • • / •■■

"V^Tiat is the end'oi'*s^udy? let hie know". King. Why, that to know, which else we

should not know. Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean,

from common sense? King. Ay, that is study's god-like I'ecom-

pense. Biron.Corae on, then ; I will swear to study so, ?To know the thing I am forbid to know: co

> As thus, — to study where I well may dine, ( When I to fast exj^ressly am ftirbid; ^Or study where to meet some mistress fine,

/ When mistresses from common sense are

hid; ?0r, having sworn too hard a keejjing oath, ^ Study to break it, and not break my troth. ' If study's gain be thus, and this be so,

> Study knows that which yet it doth not know : ( Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.

< King. These be the stops that hinder study

< quite, 70 (And train our intellects to vain delight.

I Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that

i most vain,

s Which with pain purchas'd doth inherit pain:

<As, painfully to j)ore njion a l)Ook

^ To seek the light of truth ; while truth the

i while

)Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:

> Light seeking liiiht doth licdit of li'dit be-

CO o o o o

> guile:

^So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, ^Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. / Study me how to please the eye indeed so

? By fixing it u])on a fairer eye,

Who dazzling so, that eye .shall be his heed, 82 <

And give him light that it was blinded by. }

Study is like the heaven's glorious sun ^

That will not be deep-searcli'd with saucy S

looks: ^

Small' have continual jilodders ever won, J

Save l)ase authority from (others' books. '}

These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights,

That give a name to every fixed star, J^

Have no more ])rofit of their shining nights /

Than those that walk and wot not what they <•

are. oi

Too much to know is to know nought but fame;

And every godfather can give a name. <

King. How well he 's reatl, to reason against '

reading! '

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good yxo-'

ceeding! Long. He weeds the corn and still lets gi'ow the weeding. ^^

Biron. The .sj)ring is near when green geese'' are a-breeding. (

Dum. How follows that? X

Biron. Fit in his place and time. (

Dum. In reason nothing. Biron. Something then in rhyme. ^

King. Biron is like an envious sneaking- frost \ That bites the first-born infants ofs the spring. loi s

Biron. Well, say I am; why .should jiroud^ summer boast >

Before the birds have any cause to • sing? 'j

Why should I joy in any abortive birth? >

At Christmas I no moie desire a rose >

Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled .shows; ) But like of each thing that in season grow.s. S(j you, to study now it is too late, >

Climb o'er the house to uidock the little gate. ]? King. Well, sit ycni out: go home, Biron: adieu. no

Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you: QAnd though I have for bai'barism spoke inore|! Than for that angel knowledge you can say, ' Yet confident I '11 kee]) what I have swore / And bide the ])enance of each three years'; day. ] \

> Small, small or little (gain). - Sneaping, checking.

ACT I. Sceue 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I. Scene 1.

Give me the paper; let me read the same; lie And to the strict'st decrees I '11 write my name.

King. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!

Biron [reads]. "Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court:" Hath this been proclaimed '] 121

Long. Four days ago.

Biro II. Let 's see the i^enalty. [Reads] "On pain of losing her tongue." Who devised this penalty?

Long. Marry, that did I.

Biron. Sweet lord, and why?

Long. To fright them hence with that di ead penalty.

Biron. A dangerous law against gentility I

[Reads] " item, if any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise." 133

This article, my liege, yourself must break;

For well you know here comes in embassy The French king's daughter with yourself to speak, —

A maid of grace, comjilete in majesty — About surrender up of Aquitaine

To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father: Therefore this article is made in vain, 140

Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither.

King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot.

Biron. So study evermore is overshot: While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should, And when it hath the thing it huiiteth most, 'T is won as towns with fire, so won, so lost.

King. We nuist of force disj)ense with this decree; She must lie^ here on mere necessity. Biron. Necessity Avill make us all forsworn

Three thousand times within this three years' si)ace; 151

For every man with his affects is born.

Not by might master'd but by special grace: If I break faith, this word shall s])eak for me; I am forsworn on "mere necessity." So to the laws at large I write my name:

[Subscribes.

1 Lie, reside.

And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame:

Suggestions'^ are to others as to me; But I believe, although I seem so loath, 16O I am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick^ recreation granted ?

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

With a refined traveller of Spain; A man in all the world's new fashion planted,

That hath a mint of phrases in liis brain; One whom the music of liis own vain tongue

Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; A man of complements,* whom right and wrong

Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: 170 This child of fancy, that Armado hight,

For interim to our studies shall relate. In high-born words, the worth of manya kniglxt

From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; But, I protest, I love to hear him lie. And I will use him for my minstrelsy.

Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire-new^ words, fashion's own knight.

Long. Costard the swain and he shall ])e our sport; ISO

And so to study; three years is but short.

Enter Dull with a letter, ami Costard.

Dull. Which is the duke's own person?

Biron. This, fellow: what would'st?

Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharl)orough :^ but I would see his own person in flesh and blood.

Biron. This is he.

Dull. Signior Amie — Arme — commends you. There's villany abroad: this letter will tell you more. iqo

Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touch- ing me.

King. A letter from the magnificent Armado.

Biron. How low soever the matter, I hojje in God for high words.

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

Biron. To hear? or forbear lauehins:?

• Stiggestions, temptations. ' Quick, lively.

■• Complements, ornamental accomplishments. ^ Fire-new, bran-new. 6 Tharborough, third borough, a peace-officer.

ACT I. SceDe 1.

LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST.

ACT I. Scene 1.

Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugli moderately: or to forbear both. 200

Biroii. Well, .sir, be it lus the style shall give us cause to climl) in the merriness.

Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaqueuetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.^

JJiron. In what manner? 206

Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all those three : I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with her uj)on the form, and taken following her into the park ; which, ])ut togethei", is in manner and form following. N(nv, sir, for the manner, — it is the manner

There "s Tillany abroad : this letter will tell you more.

of a man to speak to a woman : for the foiin, — in some form. 213

BiroH. For the following, sir?

Cost. As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend the right I

King. Will you hear this letter with atten- tion ?

Biron. As we would hear an oracle.

Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. 210

King [reach]. "Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and sole doniinator of Navarre, my soul's earth's god, and body's fostering patron."

Cost. Not a word of Costard yet.

King [reads']. " So it is, "—

' With the manner, in the fact. 10

Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so.

King. Peace !

Cost. Be to me and every man that dax'es not fight ! 230

King. No words I

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

King [reads]. " So it is, besieged with sable-col- oured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppress- ing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time when. About the sixth hour ; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper : so much for the time when. Now for the ground which ; which, I mean, I walk'd upon : it is ycliped thy i)ark. Then for the place where ; [where,

ACT I. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I. Scene 2.

; I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most pre-

^ posterous event, that draweth from my snow-white

( pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest,

? beholdest, sun'cyest, or seest : but to the place

' where ; ] it standeth north-north-east and by east

from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden:

there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base

minnow of thy mirth," — 251

Cost. Me.

King \j'eads\. ' ' that imlettered small-knowing soul,"

Cost. Me.

King \)-eads]. " that shallow vassal," —

Cost. Still me.

"which, as I remember, bight

200

King [reads]. Costard, —

Cost. O, me.

King [reads], "sorted and consorted, contrary to thy estabhshed proclaimed edict and continent canon, with — with, — 0, with — but with this I passion to say wherewith, —

Cost. With a wench.

King [reads]. " with a child of our gi-andmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I, as my ev*--esteemed duty pricks me on, have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Anthony Dull ; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation." 271

Dull. Me, an 't shall please you ; I am An- thony Dull.

King [reads]. "For Jaquenetta, — so is the weaker vessel called which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain, — I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury ; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all complements of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty.

Don Adkiano de Armado." 2S0

Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, Ijut the best that ever I heard.

King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to this?

Cost. Sir, I confess the wench.

King. Did you hear the proclamation 1

Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.

^ King. It was proclaimed a year's imjwison- ment, to be taken with a wench. 290

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

King. "VYell, it was j)roclaime<l "damsel."

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

King. It is so varied too ; for it was pro- claimed "virgin." 207

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

King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir. soo

Cost. This maid wiU serve my turn, sir. ]

King. Su-, I will pronounce your sentence : you shall fast a week with bran and water.

Cost. I had rather pray a month with mut- ton and porridge.

King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Biron, see liim deliver'd o'er : And go we, lords, to jjut in practice that

^\Tiich each to other hath so strongly sworn.

[Exeunt King, Lo)igaville, and Dumain.

Biron. I '11 lay my head to any good man's hat,

These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. 311

Sirrah, come on.

Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was taken with Jacjuenetta, and Jaquen- etta is a true girl ; and therefore welcome the sour cup of i^rosperity I Affliction may one day smile again ; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow I [K.veunt.

Scene II. The same. Enter Armado and Moth.

Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of gi'eat sjairit grows melancholy ?

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

Arm. Vfhy, sadness is one and the self-.same thing, dear imp.

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

Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal I

Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior. 10

Arm. "V\Tiy tough senior? why tough senior?

Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?

Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a con- gruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.

Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertin- 11

ACT I. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I. Scene

eiit title to your old time, which we may name tough. IS

Arm. Pretty ami ajit. ^ ^Mot/t. How mean you, .sir? I pretty, and ;my saying apt '. or I apt, and my sjiying pretty I ) Arm. Thou pretty, because little. ; Moth. Little pretty, because little. Where- of ore apt?

; Ann. And therefore apt, because quick. ? Moth. Speak you this in my praise, ma.ster ? '? Arm. In thy condign 2»niise. ? Moth. I will praise an eel with the Siime /praise.

) Arm. What, that an eel is ingenious? ? Moth. That an eel is quick. 3o

^ Arm. I do say thou art quick in answers: Hhou heat'st my blood. ^ Mot/i. I am answer'd, sir.

Arm. I love not to be cross'd.

''crosses' love not him.

^ Arm. I have promised to study three years

^wdth the duke.

^ Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir.

' Arm. Impossible. 40

^ Moth. How many is one thrice told ?

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

( Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester,

( sir.

( Arm. I confess both: they are both the var-

jj nish of a complete man.

' Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much

< the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.

Moth. Which the base vulgar do call tlu'ee.

Arm. True. 52

Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study?

)Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice )wnnk : and liow ea.sy it is to put "years" to the ^word "three," and study three years in two > words, the dancing horse will tell ytni. ) Arm. A most fine figure ! ^ Moth. To prove you a cijiher. ] 59

Arm. I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I ;; in love with a base wench. Q If drawing my ^ sword again.st the humour of affection would

' Crosses, money. 12

deliver me from the reprobate thought of it,< I would take Desire j)risoner, and ran.som him) to any French courtier for a new-devis'd cour- ^ te.sy. I think .scorn to .sigh : methinks I should ^ outswear Cupid.] Comfort me, boy: whaf^ great men have been in love? os

Moth. Hercules, master.

Arm. Most sweet Hercules ! More author- ity, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, gi'eat carriage, for he carried the town-g;ites on his l)ack like a jiorter: and he w\as in love.

Arm. O well-knit Sam.son I strong- jointed Samson ! I do excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson's love, my dear Moth? so

Moth. A woman, master.

l^Arm. Of what complexion? '

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the > two, or one of the fom-.

Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion.

Moth. Of the sea- water green, sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?

Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them too. s;i

Arm. Green indeed is the colour of lovers : but to have a love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He surelv afieeted her for her wit.

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

Arm. My love is most immaculate white ^ and red.

3foth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd mider such colours.

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's \\it and my mother's ■ tongaie, as.sist me ! ion

Arv}. Sweet invocation of a child; most^ pretty and pathetical !

Moth. If she be made of white and red, >

Her faults will ne'er be known, >

For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, >

And fears by pale white .showui: (

Then, if she fear, or be to blame, (

By this you shall not know; '

ACT I. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I. Scene 2.

For still hei- cheeks possess the same, Which native she doth owe.^ m

<A dangerous rhyme, master, against the rea- (son of white and red. ]

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

MotJi. The world was veiy guilty of such a ballad some three ages since : but I think now 'tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the wiiting nor the tune. 119

Arm. I will have that subject newly 'wi'it o'er, that I may example my digression by

Arm. I love thee.

Jaq. So I heard you say.

some miglity precedent. Boy, I do love that countiy girl that I took in the park with the rational hind Co.stard: she deserves well. 124

Moth. [^IsiV/e] To be whipp'd ; and yet a better love than my master.

A rm. Sing, boy ; my spirit grows hea\'y in love.

Moth. And that's gi'eat marvel, loving a light wench.

Arm. I say, sing. iso

Moth. Forbear till this company be past.

Elder Dull, Costard, and Jaquexetta.

Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you teep Costard safe : and you must suffer him

1 Owe, possess.

to take no delight nor no penance; but he must fast three days a week. For this dam- sel, I must keep her at the park : .she is allowtl for the day- woman.- Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid !

Jaq. Man?

Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge. 140

Jaq. That 's hereby.

Arm. I know where it is situate.

Jaq. Lord, how wise you are !

Arm. I will tell thee wonders.

Jaq. With that face?

Arm. I love thee.

Jaq. So I heard you say.

- Day-ieoman, dairy-maid. 13

ACT I. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST.

ACT II. Scene 1.

Arm. And so, farewell.

Jaq. Fair weather after you !

Dull. Come, Ja(iueiietta, away! 150

[h'xeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.

Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy otiences ere thou be pardoned.

Cost. Well, sii", I hojje, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished.

Q Cost. I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are Ijut lightly rewarded.

Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up.

Moth. Come, you transgressing slave; away!

Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir : I will fast, being loose. 161

Moth. No, sir ; that were fast and loc ise : thou shalt to prison. ]

Cost. Well, if evei' I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.

Moth. What shall some see %

Cost. Nay, nothing. Master Moth, but what they look uj)on. It is not for prisonei's to be too silent in their words; and therefore I will say nothing: I thank God I have as little

patience as another man; and therefoi'e I can be quiet. \Extunt Moth and Costard. iTl

Ar7n. I do alfect the veiy ground, which is base, where her shoe, which is baser, guided b}^ her foot, which is basest, doth tread. I shall be forswoin, which is a great argument of falsehood, if I love. And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar ; Love is a devil : there is no evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson .so tempted, ;ind he had an excellent strength ; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Q Cupid's butt-shaft i.s too hai'd f(jv Hercules' club ; and therefore too much odds for a Sj)aniard's rai)ier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn ; the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not: his dis- grace is to be called boy; but his glory is to .subdue men. 3 Adieu, valour! rust, rajuer! be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rh^ane, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit ; write, pen ; for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Kvit. 192

ACT II.

Scene I. The same.

Enter the Prince.ss of France, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Lords, and other Attendants.

Boj/et. Now, madam, summon up your dear- est .spirits: Con.sider who the king j'our father send,s. To whom he sends, and what's his endjassy: Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem. To j)arley with the sole inheritor ()f all perfections that a man may owe. Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. Be now as prodigal of all dear grace. As Nature was in making graces dear lo

When she did starve the general world beside. And prodigally gave them all to you.

Prin. Good J^oi-d Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,

14

Needs not the painted floiirish of your imiise: Q Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, > Not utter'd by base .sale of chapmen's tongues:/ I am less proud to hear you tell my worth > Than you much willing to be counted wise In spending your wit in the praise of mine. ] But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, 20 You are not ignorant, all-telling fame Ddth iKjise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, Till painful study shall outwear three years, No woman may api)roach his silent coui-t: Therefore to 's seemeth it a needful course. Before we enter his forbidden gates. To know his pleasure; and in that behalf. Bold of your worthiness, we single you As our best-moving fair solicitor. Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, On serious business, craving quick desi)atch, Importunes personal conference with his grace: Haste, signify so much; while we attend, a3 Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.

ACT II. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST.

ACT II. Scene 1.

Boijet. Proud of emiilcjyment, willingly I go.

J'ri.H. All pride is willing pride, and yours

is so. \_Kxit Boyet.

Who are the votaries, my loving lords, 37

That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?

First Lord. Lord Longaville is one.

Prin. Know you the man ?

Mar. I know him, madam: at a marriage- feast, 40 Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized In Normandy, saw I this Longaville: A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd; In arts well fitted, glorious in arms: 45

.^.^^rrycj;^;

f .i^^i^^^^^^

Bmjet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits.

Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss. If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil. Is a sharp wit match 'd with too blunt a will ; (QWhose edge hath ]>ower to cut, wlia.se will '? still wills :,o

)It should none sjiare that come within his > power. ]

Prin. Some merry mocking l<ird, belike;

is'tso? Mar. They say so most that most his hu- mours know. Pri)i. Such short-liv'd wits <lo wither as they grow. Who are the I'est?

well-accom-

Kath. The young Duniain,

plish'd youth. Of all that virtue love for virtue loved : [_ Most power to do most harm, least knowing

ill; For he hath wit to make an ill shape good. And shape to win grace though he had no wit.] I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once; ci

And much too little of that good I saw Is my report to his great worthiness.

Ros. Another of these students at that time Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. Biron they call him; but a merrier man. Within the limit of becoming mirth; I never spent an hour's talk withal : 15

ACT II. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT H, Scene 1.

His eye begets occasion fur his wit; For every object that the one doth catcli, TO The other turn.s to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue — conceit's exjX)sitor — Delivers in sucli apt and gracious words, That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite i"a%nshed ; So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Priti. Gotl bless my ladies! are they all in love, That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of ju'aise?

First Lord. Here comes Boyet.

lii'-enter Boyet.

Prin. Now, what admittance, lord?

Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair ap- proach ; 81 And he and his cf)mpetitorsi in oath Were all aildressVl' to meet you, gentle lady, Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt: He rather means to lodge you in the field. Like one that comes here to besiege his court, Than seek a dis])ensation for his oath, To let you enter his unpeopled house. Here comes Navarre. \The Ladies., all except Princess., put on their masks.^

Enter'KvsG, Longaville, Dlmaix, Biron, and Attendants.

King. Fair princess, welcome to the coiii-t of Navari'e. 90

Prin. " Fair " I give you back again ; and " welcome " I have not yet : the roof of this court is too higii to l)e yours; and welcome to the wide fields too Ijase to be mine.

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

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

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

Prin. Our Lady helj) my lord! he 11 be for- sworn.

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

1 Competitors, confederates. « Address' d, prepared. 16

Prin. Why, will shall break it ; will and nothing else. loo

King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge nuist prove ignor- ance. I hear your gi-ace hath swoin out house-keei>

ing: 'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, And sin to break it. But i)ardon me, I am too siidden-ljold: To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. Vouchsafe to read the purjjose of my coming, And suddenly resolve me in my suit. no

[(Jives him a paper. King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away; For you '11 prove perjui'd if you make me stay. Biron. Did not I dance with you in Biabant

once ? Eos. Did not I dance with you in Bral)ant

once '] Biron. I know you did. Bos. How needless was it then to ask the

question ! Biron. You must not be so quick. Bos. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with

such questions. Biron. Your wit 's too hot, it sjieeds too fast, 'twill tire. 120

Bos. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. ^ Biron. What time o' day? \

Bos. The hour that fools should ask. s

Biron. Now fair befall your mask ! X

Bos. Fair fall the face it covers ! s

Biron. And send you many lovers I ^

Jios. Amen, so you l)e none. i

Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.] S

King. Madam, your father here doth inti- mate The payment of a hundred thou.sand crowns; Being but th' one half of an entire sum 131 Disl)ursed by my father in his wars. But say that he or we — as neither have — Receiv'd that .sum, yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more ; in siirety of the

which. One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, Although not valued to the money's worth.

ACT II. Sceue 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT II. Scene 1.

If then the king- yuur father will restore But that one half which is unsatistied, We will give uj) our right iu Aquitaine, 140 And hold fair friendshii^ with his majesty. jQBut that, it seems, he little purposeth, 5 For here he doth demand to have repaid ^ A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, >0n payment of a hundred thousand crown .s, >To have his title live in Aquitaine; > Which we much rather had depart^ withal, ) And have the money by our father lent, ?Than Acpiitaine so gelded as it is. ' Dear i5rincess, were not his requests so far >From reason's yielding, your fair self should make i'jI

; A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, ; And go well satisfied to France again. ]

Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong. And wrong the reputation of your name, In so unseeming to confess receipt Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.

Kiny. I do protest I never heard of it; And if you prove it, I '11 repay it back, Or yield up Aquitaine.

Prin. We arrest your word.

Boyet, you can produce acquittances lOi

For such a sum from special officers Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfy me so.

Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound : To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me : at which interview All liberal reason I will yield unto. Meantime receive such welcome at my hand, As honour without breach of honour may iro Make tender of to thy true worthiness: You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; But here without you shall be so receiv'd As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, Though so deni'd fair harbour in my house. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and fare- well: To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort - your grace !

1 Depart, part. VOL. I.

2 Consort, accompany.

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every

place ! [Kvit.

Biron. Lady, I will cf.nnneiid you to mine

own heart. iso

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

Q Biron. I would you heard it groan.

Ros. Is the fool sick %

Biron. Sick at the heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Ros. My physic says "ay."

Biron. Will you i)rick 't with your eye?

Ros. No poi/nt, with my knife. mo

Biron. Now, God save thy life !

Ros. And yours from long living !

Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. ]

[Retiring. Dum. Sir, I jjray you, a word : what lady is

that same? [Indicating Katharine.

Boyet. The heir of Alen§on, Katharine her

name. Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you

well. [E.vit.

Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in

the white? [Indicating Maria.

Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her

in the light. Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire

her name. Boyet. She hath Init one for herself ; to de- sire that were a shame. 200 Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. Long. God's blessing on your beard 1 Boyet. Good sir, be not oifended. She is an heir of Falconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, sir, that may be.

[Exit Longaville. Biron. WHiat's her name in the cap?

[Indicating Roscdine. Boyet. Rosaline, by good haj). 210

Biron. Is she w^edded or no? Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. Biron. You are welcome, sir: adieu. Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to

you. [K.vit Biron — Ladies unmask.

J/rt)-. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord : 17 2

ACT II. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT III. Scene 1.

Not a word with liini Imt a jest. 2ir.

Boyet. And every jest but a word.

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

Boyet. I was as willing to grapjile as he was to board. \ \_ Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry. \ Boyet. And wherefore not ships %

;)No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your ^ lips. 2l>0

\ Mar. You sheep, and I jjasture: shall that \ finish the jest? ; Boyet. So you grant jiasture for me. \ \j'ff^''''-'^9 to kiss Iter.

/ Mar. Not so, gentle beast :

\ My lips are no common, though several they be. i Boyet. Belonging to whom ? } Mar. To my fortunes and me.

) Prin. Good wits will be jangling ; but, gen- ( ties, agree:

< This civil war of wits were much better us'd (■On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis

i abus'd.]

Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom

lies,

By the heart's still rhet5ric disclosed with eyes.

Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. 230

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle

affected. Pria. Your reason i

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, }>eeping thorough de- sire: His heart, like an agate, with yoiu' |)rint im- press'd,

Proud with his form, in his eye ])ride ex-

press'd : :.• ;-

His tongue, all impatient to speak and not

see. Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; QAll senses to that sense did make their re])air, ) To feel only looking on fairest of fair: 241 /

Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, < As jeAvels in crystal for some prince to buy; ! Who, tendring their own worth from where ( they were glass'd, ?

Did jjoint you to buy them, along as you < pass'd : (

His face's own margent did quote such amazes^ That all eyes siiw his eyes enchanted Avith^ gazes, j \

I '11 give you Aquitaine and all that is liis. An you give him for my s;ike but one loving kiss. Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dis-

pos'd.^

Boyet. But to speak that in words which

his eye hath disclos'd. -im

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lit;.

Ros. Thou art an old love-monger and speak-

est .skilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's gi-andfather and learns

news of him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother, for

her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? Mar. No.

Boyet. What then, do you see ?

Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet. You are too hard for me.

[^Exeaat.

ACT III.

Scene I. The sainc

Enter Armado and Moth.

Arm. Warble, child ; make jtassionate my sense of hearing.

Moth. Concolinel.^ [Singing.

1 DispoK'd, merry

^ Concolitiel (?), perhups the name of the song to be sung.

18

Arm. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him fcstinately'' hither: I must emj)loy him in a letter to my love.

Q Moth. Master, will you win your love with ? a French brawl* ? 9 <

3 Fentinatelii, hastily. * Brawl, a kind of dance.

ACT III. Sceue 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT III. Scene 1.

^ Ann. How meanest tliou^ brawling- in ' French ? lo

'. Moth. No, my complete master : l:»ut to jig

off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it Iwith your feet, humour it with turning up 'your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note,

sometime thi'ough the tliroat, as if you swal- , lowed love with singing love, sometime through

the nose, as if you snuff''d up love by smelling'; love ; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the ■ sho]> of your ej'es; with your amis cross'd on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a sjjit; or your hands in your jMJcket like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one/ tune, but a snip and away. These are com-^ plements, thest; are humours; these beti'ay nice ^

^^^L

id'JW

I, J'

f.KSS-^'X

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

^wenches, that would be betrayed without 'these; and make them men of note — do you ^note me? — that most are affected to these. 2i; ) Arm. How hast thou purchased this ex- ^ perience ?

) Moth. By my penny of observation. ) Arm. But O,— but O,— i Moth. " The hobby-horse is forgot." :'.o

S Arm. Callest thou my love "hobby-horse?" > Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a <;Colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But >-have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almost I had. i Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart. ^ Arm. By heart and in heart, boy. ; Moth. And out of heart, master: all those . three I will prove. 40

Arm. "What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and \ without, upon the instant: by heart you love^ hei', because your heart cannot come by her;< in heart you love her, because your heart is in < love with her; and out of heart you love her,; being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her. ^

Arm. I am all these three. ^

Moth. And three times as much more, and ] yet nothing at all. '

Arm. Fetch hither the swain : he must carry me a letter. ] "'i

Moth. A message well sympathiz'd ; a horse to be ambassador for an ass.

Arm. Ha, ha ! what .sayest thou?

Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the hcjrse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. 19

ACT III. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR 'S LOST.

ACT III. Scene 1.

Ann. The way is but short : away I 57

J/ofA. As swift as lead, sir.

Ann. The meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? oo

Moth. Miuime, honest master; or rather, master, no.

Ann. I &ay lead is slow.

Moth. You are too swift,, sir, to siy so :

Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun ?

Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric ! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet,

that 's he : I shoot thee at the swain.

Moth. Thump then and I flee. \_Exit.

Ann. A most acute juveiial; voluble and free of grace I By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in

thy face : Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd. 70

Re-enter Moth icith Costard.

Moth. A wonder, master ! here 's a costard'

broken in a shin. Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy

I'envoy; begin. Cost. No egma, no riddle, no I'envoy; no salve in these all, .sir: O, sir, plantain, a jslain plantain ! no I'envoy, no I'envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain !

Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the incon- siderate take salve for I'envoy, and the word I'envoy for a salve ? so

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not I'envoy a .salve?

Arm. No, page : it is an epilogue or dis- course, to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been

sain. I will example it:

The fox, the ape and the humble-bee. Were still at odds, being but three. There 's the moral. Now the I'envoy.

Moth. I will add the I'envoy. Say the moral again.

1 Costard, head. 20

Arm. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee, 90

Were still at odds, being but three. Moth. Until the goose came out of door.

And stay'd the odds by adding four. ^ Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my I'envoy.

The fox,theai)e,and the humble-bee. Were still at odds, being but three. Arm. Until the goose came out of door.

Staying the odds by adding four. []

Moth. A good I'envoy, ending in the goose:

would you de-sire more? loi

^Cost. The boy hath sold him a 1)argain, a

goose, that 's flat.

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose

be fat. To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and

loose : Let me see; a fat I'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose. ] Arm. Come hither, come hither. ITow did

this argument begin? Moth. By saying that a costard was broken in a shin. Then cjiU'd you for the I'envoy.

(ost. True, and I for a ])lantain: tluis came your argument in ; Then the boy's fat I'envoy, the goose that you bought; no

And he ended the market.

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

Moth. I will tell you sensibly. Coat. Thou ha.st no feeling of it. Moth: I will speak that I'envoy:

I Costiird, running out, that was safely

within. Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. A rm. We will talk no more of this matter. Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchi.se thee. ( 'ost. O, marry me to one Frances : I smell some I'envoy, some goose, in this. 123

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy per.son : thou wert inmnired, restrained, captivated, bound.

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

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, imjwse on thee

ACT III. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT III. Scene 1.

nothing but this: bear this significant [giving a lettc)-] to the conntiy maid Ja(;[uenetta : there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit.

Biron. Hark, slave, it is but t'lis.

Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu. v.Vo

Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my inconyi Jew! [Exit Moth.

Now Avill I look to his remuneration. Re- muneration ! O, that 's the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings — remunera-

' Jncoii!/, delicate.

tion. — "What's the price of this inkle?- — "One penny. — "No, I'll give you a remuneration:" why, it carries it. Remuneration! Avhy, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word. ui

Enter BiRO>f.

Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceed- ingly well met.

Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration I

Biron. What is a remuneration I

Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.

Biron. Why, then, three-farthing woilh of silk. ijo

Cost. I thank your worship : God be wi' you !

Biron. Stay, slave; I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

Cost. When would you have it done, sir?

Biron. This afternoon.

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

Biron. Thou knowest not what it is.

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

Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

( 'ost. I will come to youi' worshijj to-morrow morning. i oi

Bii'on. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this:

The princess comes to hunt here in the pai'k, And in her train there is a gentle lady; When tongues speak sweetly, then they name

her name. And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon ; go. [Giving him a shilling.

Cost. Gardon, O sweet gardon ! better than remuneration, a 'leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon ! I will do it, sir, in jjrint. Gardon ! Remuneration ! [Exit. iT-t

Biron. And I, forsooth, in love ! I, that have been love's whip; A very beadle to a lumiorous sigh; A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; A domineering pedant o'er the boy; Than whom no mortal so magnificent ! i ."^o

This wimpled,^ whining, purblind, wayward boy;

2 Inkle, tape.

^ Wimpled, veiled or hooded. 21

ACT III. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUll'S LOST.

ACT IV. Sceue 1.

This seiiior-jiinior,giaiit-(hvarf, Don Cupid; 182 Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of j)lackets, king of codj)ieces, Sole imperator and great general Of trotting paritors* : — O my little heart I — And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop I "What, I ! 1 love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 191 A woman, that is like a German clock. Still a-rejiairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch. But being watch'd that it may still go right I Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;

And, among thi'ee, to love the worst of all; 197 Q A whitely- wanton with a velvet brow, <

With two pitch-b;\Ils stuck in her face for<

eyes; S

Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed^ Though Argus were her eunuch and her;^

guard : 3 2or

And I to sigh for her! to watch for her 1 To pray for her I Go to; it is a plague That Gujiid will impose for my neglect Of his almighty dreadful little might. Well, I will love, write, sigh, i)ra3-, sue and

groan : Some men must love my lady and some Joan.

[Rcit.

ACT IV.

ScEXE L 77ic same.

Enter the Princess, and her train, a Forester, BoTET, Rosaline, Maria, and Katharine.

Prin. Was that the king, that sjjurr'd his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. 1 know not; but I think it was not he. Prin. Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind. AVell, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch: On Saturday we will return to France. QThen, forester, my friend, where is the bush ^That we must stiind an<l ])lay the murderer in? / For. Hereby, ui)on the edge of yonder cop- / pice; iK stand where you may make the fairest shoot.

> Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that I shoot, 11 ^ And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.

> For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.

> Prin. AVliat, what? first i)raise me and again / say no i

/O short-liv'd pride I Not fair? alack for woe I ^ For. Yes, madam, fair.

< Prin. Nay, never paint me now:

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

1 Paritors, apparitors, officers of the ecclesiastical courts. - Whitely, pale.

•22

Here, good my glass, t^ike this for telling true : - Fair payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that which you in- '

herit. 20 ,

Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by

merit I O heresy in faii-^, fit for these days I ;

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair

praise. But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill. And shooting well is then accounted ill. Thus will I siive my credit in the shoot: ;

Not wounding, pity would not let me do't; [ If wounding, then it was to show my skill, ; That more for praise than purpose meant to'

kiu. ;

And out of question so it is sometimes, so ^

Glory gi'ows guilty of detested crimes, When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward'

part, '

We bend to that the working of the heart; ', As I for praise alone now seek to spill ',

The poor deer's blood, that ni}' heart means no,

ill. '

Boyet. Do not curst* wives hold that self-'

sovereignty <

Only for praise sake, when they strive to be , Lords o'er their lords? <

' Fair, beauty.

< Curst, cross-graiued.

ACT IV. Sceue 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 1.

^ Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may ^ afford

'To any lady that subdues a lord. ] 40

Boijet. Here comes a member of the com- monwealth.

Enter Costard.

Cost. God dig-you-den all I ^ Pray you, which is the head lady I

> [ Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the ; rest that have no heads.

J Cost. Which is the gi-eatest lady, the highest? J Prin. The thickest and the tallest. \ Cost. The thickest and the tallest I it is so; \ truth is tiiith.

; An yoiu" waist, mistress, were as slender as I my wit,

JOne o' these maids' girdles for your waist I should be fit. 50

\ Are not you the chief woman ? you are the ' thickest here. ]

Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will?

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

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter 1 he 's a good friend of mine : Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can

carve; Break up this capon. -

Boyd. I am bound to serve.

This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear.

Break the neck of the wax, and everj^ one

give ear. 59

Boyet \reads\. " By heaven, that thou art fan-, is most infaUible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth it.self, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than ti'uth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal ! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar \ Penelophon ; \_ and he it was that might rightly say, ' Veni, ricli, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, — / 0 base and obscure vulgar ! — viddicet, He came, ;Saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; over- Jcame, three. WTio came? the king: why did he ■ come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to whom

1 God dig-ymt-den, God give you good even.

2 Break up this capon, open this letter.

came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the beggar :J> who overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion is\ victory: on whose side? the king's. The captive is^ enrich'd : on whose side ? the beggar's. The catas- / trophe is a nuptial : on whose side? the king's: no, ^ on both in one, or one in both. ] I am the king ; for '• so stands the comparison : thou the beggar ; for so witne.sseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thj' love ? I may : shall I enforce thy love ? I could : shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thy- self ? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,

Don Adriaxo de Armado.

" Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 90

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

Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to plaj-:

But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ? Food for his rage, repasture for his den."

Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? What vane ? what weathercock ? did you ever hear better? Boyet. I am much deceived but I remember

the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er

it erewhile. Boyet. Tliis Armado is a Spaniard, that keejjs here in court; 100

A phantasime, a Monarcho,^ and one that

makes sport To the prince and his bookmates.

Prin. Thou fellow, a word :

Who gave thee this letter ?

Cost. I told you; my lord.

Prin. To whom should'st thou give it? Cost. From my lord to ray lady.

Pnn. From which lord to which lady? Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine. To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline. Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. [To Ros.'\ Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be thine another day.

[^Exeunt Princess and trai)U

» Monarcho, a mad enthusiast of the time. 23

ACT IV. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 2.

^Boi/et. Who is the .';iiitf>r? who is the ) suitor { ^

\ Hos. Shall I teaoh you to kuow? no

} Bo>/et. Ay, my coutiueiit of beauty. ^ Bos. Why, she that bears the bow.

( Finely put ott' !

I Boyet. My lady goes to kill honis; but, if ' thou many,

^Hang me by the neck, if horns that year niis- ^ cjirry. ^ Finely put on !

j Bo!^. Well, then, I am the shooter. \ Bo;i<'t. And who is your deer?

\ Bos. If we choose by the honi!?, yourself: ^ come not near. ^Finely put on, indeed !

i Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and s she strikes at the brow. \ Boyet. But she herself is hit lower : have I S hit her now I y^o

S Bo.<!. Shall I come ujjon thee with an old /sajniig, that was a man when King Pepin of ^France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? ;^ Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as ^old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover ^of Britiiin was a little weiu-h, as touching the 'hit it.

', Bos. Thou canst not liit it, hit it, hit it, i Thou canst not hit it, my good man,

'Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, , An I cannot, another can. 130

'', [E.veiDit Bos. and Kath.

'. Co.it. By my troth, most plensant : how both ;; did tit it :

i Mar. A mark marvellous well .shot, for they \ both did hit it.

s Boyet. A mark I O, mark Ijut that mark I i A mark, says my lady 1 )Let the mark have a prick in 't, to mete at, if j! it may be.

/ Mar. Wide o' the bow hand I i' faith, your ^ hand is out.

> Cost. Lideed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll / ne'er hit the clout.

> Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike / your hand is in.

/ Cost. Then will she get the ui)shoot by cleaving the itin.

' Suitor, fijnneily iiroiiouiiced '■ slioi^tor." 24

Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your> lips grow foul. /

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: ' challenge her to bowl. 140^

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good^ night, my good owd. ^^

[Kvomt Boyet and Maria.' Cost. By my .soul, a swain I a most simple clown ! Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have jnit

him doW'U 1 O' my troth, most .sweet jests', most incony vulgar wit I /

When it comes so smoothly oti", so obscenely.

as it were, so fit. Armador at th'one side, — O, a most dainty

man I To see him walk before a lady and to bear hei

fan !

To see him kiss his hand I and how most ',

sweetly a' will swear ! /

And his page at other side, that handful of

wit! /

Ah, heavens, it is a most i)athetical nitl^ loO/

Sola, sola ! [,S/iout ivithin. ;

Exit Costard., runnincf.'V

Scene II. The same.

Enter HoLOFERNES, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull.

Xatli. Very reverend sjtort, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Ifnl. The deer was, as you know, sanguigno., in blood ; ripe as the pomewater,^ who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cielo., the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra., the soil, the land, the earth.

Xath. Truly, Master Holof ernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least : but, sir, I a.ssure ye, it was a buck of the fir.st head. lo

Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

Didl. 'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a jjricket.''

* Nit, the egg of an insect.

^ Pomewatcr, a kind of apple.

■• Pricket, a buck in his second year.

ACT IV. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 2.

Hol. Most barbarous iiitiniatioii ! yet a kind I cliuatioii, after his undressed, unpolished, nn-

of insinuation, as it were, iti via, in way, of | educated, unpruned, untrained, or rather, un-

explication; facere, as it were, replication, or j lettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to

rather, ostcntare, to show, as it were, liis in- | insert again my Iiaud credo iov a deer. 20

/«f^^li

Hnl. Most harbarons intimation !

Dull. I said the deer was not a haud credo; "t was a pricket. 22

IIol. Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus! O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look ! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not reijlenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts: And such barren })lants are set before us, that we thankfid should be, which we of taste and feeling are, for those j'arts that do fructify in us more than he. 30

Xror as it would ill become me to be vain, iu- ' discreet, or a fool,

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

But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's- mind, 33 j

Many can brook the weather that love not the ' wind. ]] Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet? IIol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictyinia,

goodman r)ull. Dull. What is Dictynna? Xath. A title to Pha3be,to Luna, to the moon. Hot. The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, 40

And raught^ not to five weeks when he came to five-score.

1 Raiight, reached. 25

ACT IV. Scene

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 2.

Th' allusion holds in the exchange. 42

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

Hoi. God conifurt thy cajmcity I I say, th' allusion holds in the exchange. ' Dull. Antl I say, the poUusion holds in the exchange ; for the moon is never but a month old : and I say beside that, 't was a pricket that the princess kill'd. 50

^IIol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an ex- temjioral epitaph on the death of the deer? And, to humr)ur the ignorant, call the deer the princess killed a pricket.

Kath. Perge, good Master Holof ernes, joe/'y<;; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

H<A. I will something affect the letter,' for it argues facility.

The preyful princess pierc'd and prick Vl a pretty pleasing pricket ;

Some say a sore;- but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell : put L to soro, then sorel'' jumps from thicket ; 60

Or pricket sore, or else sorel ; the peoi)lc fall a- hooting. If sore V)e sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores o'

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

Nath. A rare talent.

Dull. {Aside\ If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

Hoi. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a fooli.sh extravagant s])irit, full of forms, figures, sluipes, objects, ideas, ajjprt,-- hensions, motions, revolutions : these are be- got in the ventricle of memory, nourish'd in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you : and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very gi'eatly under you : you are a good mem- ber of the commonwealth. ro

Hoi. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction; if their daugh-

1 Affect the letter, practise alliteration. ' Sore, "soare," a buck in his fourth year * Sorel, a buck in his tliinl year 26

ters be capable, I will put it to them: but virl sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine -^ .sjiluteth us. ] S4 :

Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.

Jaq. God give you good morrow, master

Person''. Hoi. Master Person, quasi pers-one^. An if one .should be jiierc'd, which is the one?

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

Hul. O — ])iercing a hog.shead I a good lustre of conceit in a tuft of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well. 92

Jaq. Good master Parson, be so good as read me this letter: it was given me by Cosfcird, and sent me frcjm Don Armado: I beseech you, I'ead it.

Hoi. ^Fauste, precor, gelidd quando pecus^ omne sub umJ»xi liuminat, — and so forth.] Ah, good old MantuanI I may .speak of thee^ as the traveller doth of Venice; Yenetia, Venetia, Chi non ti rede non tipretia. 100

Old Mantuan,old Mantuan I who understandeth / thee not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. ]_• Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather, as Horace .says in bin— (lool-ing over Nathaniel's shoulder) What, my soul, verses? Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. Jlol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; h'ye, dominc.

Nath. \reads\ "If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I '11 faithful prove ; ill

Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Q Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Wliere all those pleasures live that art would com- prehend : ( If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice ; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee com- mend, ( All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; ^

* Person, the old form of parson. 5 Pers-one, pierce-one.

ACT IV. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

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

( Thy eye Jove's hghtning bears, thy voice his dread-

' ful thunder, 119

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

Celestial as thou art, 0, pardon love this wrong-,

That singeth heaven's praise with such an earthly

tongue."

Hoi. You find not the apostroplias, and .so

miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet.

Here are only numbers ratified ; but, for the

elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy,

learet. [^Ovidius Naso was the man: and why,

( indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odori-

/ferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention?

' Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his mas-

<:ter, the ape his keeper, the tyred ^ horse his

( rider. ] But, damosella virgin, was this directed

to you? 132

Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one

of the strange queen's lords.

Hoi. I will overglance the superscript: "To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline."

I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the peison written unto :

" Your ladyship's in all desired employment, Biron." Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which accidentally, or by the way of progres- sion, hath miscaiTied. Trip and go, my sweet ; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king: it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I foi'give thy duty: adieu.

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

Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

\^Exeu)it Cost, and Jaq. ^ XatJt. Sir, you have done this in the fear /of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith, —

Hoi. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear

colourable colours.- But to return to the

', verses : did they please you. Sir Nathaniel ?

Nath. Marvellous well for the ])en.

Hoi. I do dine to-day at the father's of a

< certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast,

1 Tyred, adorned with trappings.

- Colourable colours, specious appearances.

it shall jjlease you to gi'atify the table with aS grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the > parents of the foresaid child or pupil, under- } take your ben venuto; where I will prove; those verses to be very unlearned, neither^ savouring of poetiy, wit, nor invention: I be-; seech your society. i6ii>

Nath. And thank you too; for society, saith' the text, is the happiness of life.

Hoi. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. \_To Ball] Sir, I do invite you^ too ; you shall not say me nay : pauca verba. ) Away! the gentles are at their game, and we( will to our recreation. ] [ Exeunt. <

Scene III. The same. Enter Biron, with a paper. Biron. The king he is liunting the deer; I am coursing myself : Q they have pitch'd a toil ; > I am toiling in a pitch, — pitch that defiles:/ defile! a foul word. Well, sit thee down, sor- / row I for so they say the fool said, and so say/ I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the/ Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax : it kills / sheep ; it kills me, I a sheep : well proved ^ again o' my side ! ] I will not love : if I do, !; hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her eye, — by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love : and it hath taught me to rhyme and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my son- nets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clowni, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a pajaer : (iod give him gi-ace to groan! [C'oneeals himself among the branches of a tree.

Enter the King, vith a paper.

King. Ay me ! 21

Biron. [Aside] Shot, by heaven ! Proceed,

sweet Cupid : thou hast thump'd him with thy

bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets !

King [reads]. ' ' So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, 27

ACT IV. Scene 3.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smot^

The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright 30

Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light :

Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weefj: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee ;

So ridest thou triuuipliing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me.

And they thy glory through my grief will show: But do not love thyself ; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. 40

0 (pieen of queens ! how far dost thou excel, No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell — "

How shall she know my griefs ? I "11 drop the

paj)er : Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes

here ? [Conceals himself.

What, Longaville I and reading I listen, ear. Diron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool

appear I

Enter Loxgaville, u-lth a paper.

Long. Ay me, I am forsworn ! Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing ])apers.-

Kincj. In love, I hope : sweet fellowship in

shame I Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. bO

Long. Am I the first that have been per-

jui''d sol Biron. I could put thee in comfort. Not by two that I know: QThou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap ; of society,

^The shai)e of Love's Tyburn that hangs up ^ simplicity. ]

Long. I fear these stul)born lines lack jjower to move. O sweet Maria, empress of my hjve I These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. Biron. O, rhymes are guai'ds^ on wanton Cupid's hose: Disfigure not his shape.

Long. This same shall go. — [Heads.

1 Siiint = smote, so all the old copies. Tlie rhyme re- ()uires this obsolete form.

- Papers, papers describing tlie crime worn on the l>reast of the condemned perjurer.

^ Guards, oriianieuts, triiiniiings. 28

" Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, co

'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjiu-y?

Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I foi'swore; but I will prove,

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;

Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. Vows arc but breath, and breath a vapour is:

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhal'st this vapour- vow; in thee it is: Vo

If broken then, it is no fault of mine: If by me broke, what fool is not so wise To lose an oath to win a paradise .' "

Biron. This is the liver- vein,'' which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess: ])ure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend I we are much out o' th' way. Long. By whom shall I send this? — Com- pany! stay. [Conceals himself. Biron. All hid, all hid ; ;ui old infant play. Like a demigod heie sit I in the .sky. And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. More sacks to the mill I O heavens, I have my Avish ! 81

Enter Dujiain, with a papter.

Dumain transform'd ! four woodcocks in a

dish ! J)nm. O most divine Kate I Biron. O most prcjfane coxcoml) ! Dtnn. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal

eye! Biron. By earth, .she is not, corporal, there

you lie. Dum. Her amber hair for foul hath amber

coted.^ Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well

noted. Dam. As uj^right as the cedar. Biro)i. Stoops, I say;

Her shoulder is with child.

Dum. As fair as day. oo

Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun

must shine. Dum. O that I had my wish I iMng. And I had mine!

King. And I mine too, good Lord !

* Licer cciii, the liver was supposed to be the seat of love. * Cuted, surpassed.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT lY. Sceue 3.

Biron. Amen, so I had mine : is not that a good word? s-i

' \lBum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be. Biron. A fever in your blood I why, then incision ^ Would let her out in saucers: sweet mispri- sion!] Buni. Once more I'll read the ode that I

have writ. Biron. Once more 1 11 mark how love can vary wit. lOO

JJiDii. [reads]

" On a day— alack the day !— Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind. All unseen, gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Ah! would I might triumph so! 110

But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn; Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, Youth so apt to pluck a sweet ! Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom great Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiope were; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love." 120

This will I send; and something else more

plain, That shall express my true love's fasting pain. O, would tlie king, Biron, and Longaville, Were lovers too I 111, to example ill, Would f]'om my forehead wipe a perjur'd

note ; For none offend where all alike do dote. Long. \_ailrancin<j\. Dumain, thy love is far

from charity. That in love's grief desir'st society: You may look pale, but I shoidd blush, I know, To be o'erheard, and taken napping so. 130 King. \advanciyvj\. Come, sir, you blush; as

his, your case is such; You chide at him, offending twice as much; You do not love Maria; Longaville Bid never sonnet for her sake compile, Noi' never lay his wreathed arms athwart

His loving bosom to keep down his heart. I have been closely shrouded in this bush \T, And mark'd you both and for you both did

blush : I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your

fashion,

Lung. {advanmmV . ■ . You may look pale, but I should blush, I kuiiw. To be 0 erheard, and taken napping so.

Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your pas- sion: 1-10

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

One, her hair's gold; crystal the other's eyes:

\To Long.] You Avould for paradise break faith and troth;

\_To I>2im.] And Jove, for your love, would in- fringe an oath.

29

ACT IV. Scene 3.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

What will Biron Siiy when that he shall hear

A faith infringed, which i^uch zeal did swear?

How will he storn ! how will he spend his wit!

How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it!

For all the wealth that ever I did see, 149

I would not have him know so much by me. Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypoc- risy. — [-1 dvancing.

Ah, good my liege, I pi-ay thee, pardon me !

Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to re- prove

These worms for loving, that art most in love?

Your eyes do make no coaches^ ; in your tears

There is no cei-fciin princess that appears:

You'll not be pei-jur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;

Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting !

But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not.

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

You found this mote; the king your mote did sec; 101

But I a beam do tind in each of three.

0, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen.

Of sighs, of gi'oaus, of sorrow and of teen'.-

0 me, with what strict patience have I sat. To see a king transformed to a gnat!

To see great Hercules whipping a gig. And profound Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at push-pin with the boy.s, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! iro

Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain? And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege's? all about the breast: A caudle, ho !

King. Too bitter is thy jest. Are we beti-ayed thus to thy over-\dew ?

Biron. Not you to me, but I betrayed by you :

1, that am honest; I, that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in;

1 am betrayed, l)y keejnng company 179 With men, like men — of strange inconstancy. When shall you .see me write a thing in rhyme ? Or groan for Joan? or .spend a minute's time In ])runing^ me? When shall you hear that I Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,

A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb?

1 Coaches. .See above in King's sonnet.

" No drop but as a ' coach ' cloth carry thee."

2 Teen, Kiief.

3 Pruning, as a bird "pruning" Ijis featliers.

30

King. Soft! whither away so fast ? isc.

A true man or a thief that g:illops so ?

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

Knter Jaquenetta and Costard.

Jaq. God bless the king ! King. What present hast thou there?

( ost. Some certain treason. King. What makes treason here?" 190

Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. If it mar nothing neither.

The treason and you go in jteace away together. Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read: Our person* misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. King. Biron, read it over.

[(Jiving him the paper. Where hadst thou it? Jaq. Of Costard. King. Whei'e hadst thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. [Biron tears the letter. King. How now I what is in you ? why dost thou tear it? -joo

Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace

needs not fear it. Long. It did move him to passion, and

therefore let 's hear it. Bum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. [Gathering up the pieces.

Biron. [ To Costard^ Ah, you whoreson log- gerhead ! you were born to do me shame. Guilty, my lord, guilty ! I confess, I confess. King. What^

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make uji the mess: He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. 210

Burn. Now the number is even. Biron. True, ti'ue; we are four.

Will these tui-tles be gone?

King. Hence, sirs ; away !

Co.'it. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.

[E.veunt Costard and Jaquenetta.

* Person, parson.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! 214

As ti'iie we are as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood doth not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we were born ; Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn.

King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine ^ -i-ia

Biron. Did they I AVho sees the heavenly Rosaline, That, like a rude and savage man of Indc,

At the first opening of the georgeous east. Bows not his vassal head, and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obeilient breast]

Biron. {advancing].

Ah, gouU my liege, I pray thee, pardon me !

"\^"liat peremptory eagle-sighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty ]

King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; iwq

She an attending star, scarce seen a light. Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron : O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Q Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, Where several worthies make one dignity, I Where nothing wants that want itself doth ' seek.

Lend me the floui-ish of all gentle tongues, — '

Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it notx To things of sale a seller's praise belongs, 240 (

She passes praise ; then praise too shoi-t doth \ blot. ] ^

A withered hermit, five-score winters worn.

Might shake ofl" fifty, lo(jking in her eye : Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born.

And gives the cnitch the cradle's infancy: O, 't is the Sim that maketh all things shine.

King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. Biron. Is ebony like her 1 O ^\ood di\'ine !

A wife of such wood were felicity. 249

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

That I may swear beauty doth Ijeauty lack, 31

ACT IV. Scene 3.

LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST.

ACT IV. Scene 3.

If that she learn not of lier eye to look: l'.'.j

No face is fair that is not full so black. King. O paradox ! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons and the school of night ; And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,

It mourns that })ainting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect; 200 And therefore is she born to make black fair. ''QHer favour turns the fashion of the days, / For native blood is counted painting now; ('Ajid therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, i Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. ] Dum. To look like her are chimney-sweepei-s black. Long. And since her time are colliers count- ed bright. King. And Ethiopes of theii- sweet complexion crack. 1 Duni. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Youi* mistresses dare never come in rain, -jvo

For fear their coloui's should be wash'd away. King. 'Twere good, yours did; foi-, sir, to tell you plain, I 'II find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. Biron. I '11 prove her fair, or Uilk till doomsday here. King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuflf so dear. Long. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face see. \ Q Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine

< eyes,

< Her feet were much too dainty for such tread ! <' Dum. O vile I then, as she goes, what upward ( lies -280

< The street should see as she walk'd over- ', head. 3

King. But wliat of this? ai'e we not all in love ? Biron. Nothing so sure; and thereby all for- sworn.

King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove

I Crack, boast. 32

Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. 285 Dum. Ay, marry, there; some tlattery for this evil.

Jjong. O, some authority how to jiroceed; Some tricks, some quillets-, how to cheat the devil.

Dum. Some salve for perjury.

Biron. O 't is more than need.

Have at you, then, aflection's men at arms. Oonsider what you first did swear unto, 291 To fast, to study, and to see no woman; Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? youi' stomachs are too

young; And abstinence engenders maladies. And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, ( -an you still dream, and pore, and thereon look ? ^ t Why, universal jjlodding i)risons up »

The nimble spiiits in the arteries, ^

As motion and long-during action tires '

The sinewy vigour of the traveller. <

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

You have in that forsworn the use of eyes, { And study too, the causer of your vow; 311s For where is any author in the world <

Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? ] ^ Learning is but an adjunct to ourself. And where we are, our learning likewise is: Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, Do we not likewise see our learning there 1 O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn oui- books. For when would you, my liege, or 3'ou, or you. In leaden contemplation have found out 321 Such fieiy luimbers, as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with ? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; And therefore, finding barren i)ractisers. Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power. And gives to every power a double powei', Above their functions and their offices. 332 Qlt adds a precious seeing to the eye;

2 Quillets, legal quibbles.

8 Lines 299-304 Globe Eil. omitted here.

ACT IV. Sceue 3.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene 1.

A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind : :y.ii A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopj)M: Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, Than are the tender horns of cockled^ snails; Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in

taste: For valour, is not Love a Hercules, 340

Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; /And when Love sjieaks, the voice of all the

gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write. Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs; /O, then his lines would ravish savage ears / A nd plant in tyrants mild humility. ] From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: 300 They s])arkle still the right Promethean fire; They ai-e the books, the arts, the academes. That show, contain, and nourish all the world: Else none at all in aught proves excellent : Then fools you were these women to forswear; Or, keejjing what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love. Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men. Or for men's sake, the authors of these women. Or women's sake, by whom we men are men, Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves. Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn; :!(;:i

For charity itself fulfils the law,

And who can sever love from charity? 3G5 Kiiic/. Saint Cupid, then I and, soldiers, to

the field ! Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; Pell-mell, down with them 1 but be first ad-

vis'd. In conflict that you get the sun of them. Long. Nowto ))lain-dealing; lay these glozes by : 370

Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France ? King. And win them too : therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents. Biron. First, from the pai-k let us conduct them thither; Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress : in the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace

them. Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, ma.sks and merry hours Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. 3 so

King. Away, away I no time shall be omitted That will betime, and may by us be fitted. [I Biron. Allans ! ulloas! Sow'd cockle reap'd' no corn; )

And justice always whirls in equal measure:^ Light wenches may 2)rove plagues to men for- \

sworn ; '

If so, our copper buys no better treasure. ] \

[ Exeunt.

ACT V.

Scene I. Tlie same.

Eater Holgfernes, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull.

Hoi. Satis quod sufficit.

Nath. I praise God for you, sir : your rea- sons at dinner have been sharp and senten- tious; pleasant without scurrility, witty with- out affection 2, audacious without impudency,

• Cockled, furnished with shells. '■* Affection, affectation. VOL. I.

learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king's, who is inti- tuled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado. 0

Hoi. Novi hominem tanquam te: his lunnour is lofty, his discourse ])eremptory, his tongue filed ^, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and

^ Filed, over-polished.

33 3

ACT V. Scene 1.

LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST.

ACT V. Scene 1.

thrasonical*. He is too picked-, too spruce, ' ciable and ])uiiit-devise* companiuus : such

too affected, too odd, as it weie, too peregrin- ate ■, as I may call it. 16

Xath. A most singular and choice epithet. [^J)rairs out his talile-hook.

//of. He draweth out the thread of his ver- bosity finer than tlie staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such inso-

rackei*s of orthograjjhy, a.s to speak "dout," fine, when he should siiy "douLt;" "det," when he should ])rononnce "debt,"- — d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a "calf," "caiif;" "half," " hauf ; " " neighbour " vacatur " nebour ; " "neigh" abbreviated "ne." This is abhomin- able, — which he would call abbominable : it

.•l)'»i. Meu of peace, well eiuiiuuteri.U.

in.sinuateth me of insanie — ne intelUgis, dom- ine? to make frantic, lunatic.

jVat/i. Lans Don, hone, inteUigo. .■^o

llol. Bone? — lione,ioYhene: Pi-iscian a little scratch'd ; 't will sei've.

Xath. Videsne qnix venit?

llol. Video, et gavdeo.

l-lnfpr Armado, Moth, mxd Costard.

Arm. Chirrah! [To Moth.

I/ol. Quare "chirrah," not "sin-ah?" Arm. Men of jieace, well encountered.

1 Thramnical, lirafr^in?- ^ Picked, foppish.

" F^ereijrinate, like a foreigner; literally, travelleil

34

I/ol. Most military sir, salutation.

MotJi. [Aside to Costard^ They have been at a gi-eat feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. 40

Cost. O, they have livM long on the alms- basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou ai't not so long by the head as }iono7'ificahilitiidinitatil>us: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon^.

Moth. Peace ! the peal begins.

Arm. [To Jfol.] IMonsieur, are yon not letter'd?

Mot/i. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-

* Point-devise, over-exact, very precise. ^ Flap-dragon = &u&p-dra^(in.

ACT V. Sceue 1.

LOVES LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene 1.

book. What is a, b, .spelt backward, ynth the horn on his head ( 51

JIol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

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

\^Hol. Qiiis, quis, thou consonant?

Moth. The thii-d of the five vowels, if you repeat them ; or the fifth, if I.

Jfol. I will repeat them, — a, e, i, —

Moth. The shee]): the other two concludes it, — o, u. t;o

Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Medi- terraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venew^ of wit ! snip, snap, quick and home ! it rejoiceth my intellect : true wit!

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

Hoi. What is the figure? what is the figure?

Moth. Horns.

Hoi. Thou disputest like an infant : go, whip thy gig'-. 70

Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circinn drca, — a gig of a cuckold's horn. ]

Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread : hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. Q O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my ba.stard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me I ] Go to; thou hast it ad durtyhill, at the fingers' ends, as they say. 82

Hoi. O, I smell false Latin; "dunghill" for unguem.

Ann. Ai-ts-man, preambulate; we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house-' on the toj) of the mountain ?

Hoi. Or mons, the hill.

Ann. At your sweet pleasure, for the moun- tain. 90

Hoi. I do, sans question.

Arm. Sir, it is the king's most sweet jjlea- sure and affection to congi-atulate the jjrincess at her 2)a\'ilion in the posteriors of this day, which the i-ude multitude call the afternoon.

' Vetiew, a hit at fencing, s Charge-house, school-house.

Gig, a top.

Hal. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon : the word is well cull'd, chose, sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. 90

Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good friend : for what is inward * between vis, let it pass. QI do beseech thee, remember thy' courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy head : > and among other important and most serious ^ designs, and of gi-eat import indeed, too, but; let that pass : for I must tell thee, it will > please his grace, by the world, sometime to; lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his^ royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement,) with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let that^ pa.ss. ] By the world, I recount no fable : some ) certain s]>ecial honours it pleaseth his gi-eat- ness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world ; but let that pass. The very all of all is, — but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy, — that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, understanding that the cui-ate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have ac- quainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance. \2?,

Hoi. Sii-, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertiiinment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistants, at the king's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentle- man, before the princess; I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies. 130

Xath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them ?

Hoi. Jo.shua, yourself; myself — and this gal- lant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass as Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules, —

Ann. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that Worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club. 139

Hoi. Shall I have audience? he shall present

* Inward, confidential. 35

ACT V. Scene

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene L'

Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purjjose. 14;;

Moth. An excellent device I so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry " Well done, Hei-- cules ! now thou crushest the snake ! " that is the way to make an otFence gracious, though few have the gi-ace to do it.

Arm. For the rest of the Worthies? —

Hoi. I will play three myself. I'-o

Moth. Thrice- worthy gentleman !

Arm. Shall I tell you a thing?

Hoi. We attend.

Arm. We will have, if this fadge^ not, an antic. I beseech you, follow.

Hoi. Via, goodman Dull ! thou hast spoken no word all this while.

Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir.

Hoi. Allons ! we will employ thee.

Dull. I'U make one in a dance, or so; or I will play 160

On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hey.

Hoi. Most dull, honest Dull ! To our sport, away ! [ Exeunt.

Scene II. The same.

Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria.

Prill. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart. If fairings come thus jilentifully in : A lady wall'd about with diamonds ! Look you what I have from the loving king. Ros. Madame, came nothing else along with

that? Prill. Nothing but this ! ye.s, as much love in rhyme As would be cranim'd up in a sheet of paper. Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. Ros. That was the way to make his god- head wax, 10 For he hath been five thousand years a boy. Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. Ros. You '11 ne'er be friends with him ; a' kill'd vour sister.

• Fadge, suit. 36

Kat/i. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy ; I4

And so she died: had vshe been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might ha' been a grandam ere she died : And so may you; for a light heart lives long. Ros. What 's your dark meaning, mouse, of

this light word? Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. Ros. We need more light to find your mean- ing out. '.'1 Kath. You'll mar the light by taking it in snuti"'^; Therefore 1 '11 darkly end the argument.

£ Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i' ) the dark. ^

Kath. So do not you, for you are a light

wench. Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore

light. Kath. You weigh me not? O, that's you

care not for me. ^

Ros. Great reason ; for " past cure is .still / past care." ] ,;

J'rin. Well bandied both; a .set-' of wit well play'd. But, Rosaline, you have a favour too : 30

Who sent it ? and wliat is it ?

Ros. I would you knew:

An if my face were but as fair as yours. My favour were as great ; be witness this. Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron: The numbers true ; and, were the numbering

too, I were the faire.st goddess on the ground : I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. O, he hath drawn my j)icture in his letter I Prin. Any thing like ?

Ros. Much in the letters ; nothing in the praise. 40

J'rin. Beauteous as ink ; a good conclusion. Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book. Ros. 'Ware pensils, ho I let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter: O that your face were not S(j full of O's^ !

2 In snvff, in anger. ^ A set, a set (at tennis).

* Full o/O's, referring to the round pit-marks of small- pox.

ACT V. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

Kath. Pox of that jest ! and I beskrew all shrows. 4t;

Prill. But, what was sent to you from fair Dumaiu ?

Kath. Madam, this glove.

Prill. Did he not send you twain?

Katli. Yes, madam, and moreover Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, sn

ACT v. Scene 2. 51

A huge translation of hypocrisy, Vilely compil'd, profound simi)licity.

Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Lon- gaville : The letter is too long by half a mile.

Prill. 1 think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart The chain were longer, and the letter short?

Pi-ill. Well lianilied both ; a set of wit well play"'l-

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might

never part. Prill. We ai-e wise girls to mock our lovers so. Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mock- ing so. That same Biron I'll torture ere I go: no

O that I knew he were but in by th' week ! How I Would make him fawn, and beg, and

seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, And shape his service all to my behests. And make him proud to make me proud that jests :

So portent-like would I o'ersway his state. That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prill. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd. Hath wisdom's warrant and the \w\\> of school, And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

Has. The blood of youth Imrns not with such excess t:;

As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

Mar. Folly in fools bears not .so strong a note As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote ; Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. 37

43187S2

ACT V. Sceue 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Sceue

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and niiitli is in his face. 79

Enter Boyet.

Bojiet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter I

Where 's lier grace ? so

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet. Preimre, madam, ])repare I

Ai'm, wenches, ann ! encounters mounted are

Against your peace : Love doth approach dis-

gnis'd, Armed in arguments; you'll be surpris'd: Muster youi' wits; stand in your own defence; Or hide your lieads like cowards, and ily hence. Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid 1 What

are they That charge their breath against us? say,

scout, siiy. Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd rest, 91 Towai'd that shade I might liehold addrest The king and his companions: warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear; Tliat, by and by, disguis'd they will be here. Their herald is a pretty knavish page, That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage : Action and accent did they teach him there; '•Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body

bear:" loo

And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majostical would put him out; "ror,"quoth the king, "an angel shalt thou see; Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously." The boy replied, "An angel is not evil; I should have fear'd her had she been a devil." With that, all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the

shoulder. Making the l)old wag by their praises bolder: One rubb'd his elbow — thus, and fleerd^ and

swore A better speech was never spoke before; no Another, with his finger and his thumb, Cried, '■^Via! we wdll do't, come what will

come;" The third he caper'd, and cried, "All goes well ; " The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.

1 Fleer'd, grinned. 38

£ With that, they all did tumble on the ground, < With such a zealous laughter, so jirofound, ins J That in this spleen ridiculous apjjeais, 1

To check their folly, passion's solemn tear.s. ] ; J'rin. But Avhat, but what, come they to

visit us? Boyet. They do, they do; and are aj)pareird thus, iiio

Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. Their jjui-pose is to parle, to court and dance ; And every one his love-feat will advance Unto his several mistress, which they '11 know By favours several which they did bestow. Prin. And will they m( the gallants shall be task'd; For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd; And not a man of them shall have the gi'ace, Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear. And then the king will court thee for his dear; Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine, i:i2

So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. And change you favours t< to ; so shall your loves Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes. /ton. Come on, then; wear the favoui's most

in sight. Kath. But in this changing what is your in- tent? Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs: They do it but in mocking meiriment; And mock for mock is only my intent. uo Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook; and so be moik'd withal Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display'd, to talk and greet. lios. But shall we dance, if they desire us

to't? Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a foot; Nor to their penn'd .speech render we no grace, But while 't is spoke each turn away her face. Boyet. Why, that contem])t will kill the speaker's heart, And (piite divorce his meiiiory from his part. Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt 151

The rest will ne'er come in, if he l)e out. There 's no such s]-)ort as sjiort by sjjort o'er- thrown,

ACT V. Scene

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

To make theirs oiirs,and ours none but ourowu:

So .shall we stay, mocking, intended game, 150

And they, well mock'd, dejjart away with

shame. [Tn/mjucis sound ivithin.

Bo)/et. The trumpet sounds: be mask'd; the

maskera come. [The Ladies mask.

^1 1^

Boyet. ... I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear.

Enter Blackamoors ivith music; Moth; the

KlXG, BiRON, LOXGAVILLE, and DuiIAIX, ill

Russian habits, and masked.

Moth.

All hail, the nche.st beauties on the earth! — Boyet. Beauties no richer than lich taffeta. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames IGO \_The Ladies ttcrn their backs to him.

ACT V. Scene 2.

That ever turn'd tlieir— backs— to mortal views ! iGl Biron. [Aside to Moth] "Their eyes," villain, " their evt.s.' i Moth.

That ever turn'd theu- eyes to mortal views '— Out—

Boyet. True; out indeed. Moth.

Out of your favour.s, heavenly .spii-its, vouchsafe Xot to behold

Biron. [Aside to Moth] "Once to behold,"

rogue. Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,

with your sun-beamed eyes—

Boyet. They will not answer to tliat epithet ; You were best call it "daughter-beamed eyes." Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out. ]7.j

Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, you i'og"e ! [Kvit Moth.

Bos. What would these .strangers? know theii' minds, Boyet: If they do speak our language, 't is our will That some plain man recount their purposes: Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you Avitli the princess? Biron. Nothing but jieace and gentle visita- tion. Bos. What wuuld they, say they ? iso

Boyet. Nothing but jjeace and gentle visita- tion. Bos. Why, that they have ; and bid them

so be gone. Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may

be gone. King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles To tread a measure with her on this grass. Boyet. They say, that they have measur'.l many a mile To tread a measure with you on this gi-ass.

Bos. It is not so. Ask them how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many, The measure, then, of one is easily told. loo Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell How many inches doth till up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

39

ACT V. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene

Boyet. She hears herself. Ros. How many weary stejjs,

Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, 190 Are numher'd in the travel of one mile? Birou. We nuniljer nothing that we .spend for you: ( )ur duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. 200 Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worshiji it.

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 i-emov'd, upon our watery eyne. Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our ineasui'e Ijut vouchsafe one change. Thoubidd'stme beg: this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then I Nay, you must do it soon. [.Uusic plaj/s. 2 a

Not yet! — no dance I — thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance ? How come you

thus estrang'd '. Ros. You took the moon at full, liiit now

she 's chang'd. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs should do it.

Ros. Since you are strangers and come here by chance, We'll not be nice: take hands. We Avill not dance. King. Wliy take we hands, then I Ros. Only to jiart friends:

Curtsy, .sweet hearts; and .so the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. 222

Ros. We can afford no more at sucl\ a price. King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your

company ? Ros. Your absence only. King. That can never be.

40

Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and .so,

adieu; 226

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. [^'/"'.y concerse apart.

Biron. White-handed mi.stress, one sweet

word with thee, 230

"mi-

Birmi. White-haiKlcil mistress, one sweet wuiil with thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is

three. liiron. Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice, Metheglin', wort-, and malmsey : well run,

dice ! There's half-a-dozen SM'eets.

I'rin. Seventh sweet, adieu:

Since you can cog, I '11 Jilay no moi'e \\\W\ you. Biron. One word in secret. J'rin. Let it not be sweet.

' Metheglin, a drink made of honey and water ler- iiiented. '- ^^or^ a sweet unfermented beer.

AUT V. Scene

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene 2.

Biron. Thou griev'st my gall. 237

Prin. Gall, bitter.

Biro)i. Therefore meet.

YThey converse apart. Dam. Will you vouchsafe with me to change

a word ^ Mar. Name it. Bum. Fair lady, —

Mar. Say you so? Fair lord, —

Take that for your fair lady.

Bum. Please it you, :.M0

As much in private, and I '11 bid adieu.

YFhey converse apart. Kuth. What, was your vizard made without

a tongue? Bong. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kath. O for your reason ! quickly, sir; I

long. Bong. You have a double tongue within your mask. And would afford my speechless vizard half. [_l\atli. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not "veal" a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady ! Kath. No, a fair lord calf.

Long. Let s part the word. ( Kath. No, I '11 not be your half :

'Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Bong. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks I 251

^Will you give liorns, chaste lady? do not so. ' Kath. Then die a calf, Ijefore your horns do grow. ] Bong. One word in private with you, ere I

die. Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart.

Botjet. The t'>ngues 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 'jr.n

Fleeter than aiTows, wind, thought, swifter

things.

lios. Not one word more, my maitls; break

off, break oif. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoflF!

King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. 204

I'rin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [Exeunt King., Lords, and Blackamoors. Q Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at ? 5 Boy at. Tapers they are, with your sweet b breaths puff'd out. \

Bos. Well-liking ^ wits they have ; gross, ', gross; fat, fat. ;

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout I ]; Will they not, think you, hang themselves to- night ? 270 Or ever, but in vizards, 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. Biron did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword : '^0 pioint, quoth I; my servant straight was

mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er hia

heart; And trow you what he call'd me ? Prin. Qualm, perhai)S.

Kath. Yes, ir. good faith. Prin. Go, sickness as thou art I

Pos. Well, better wits ha^'e worn plain sta- tute-caps. 2S1 But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith

to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service

born. 3/ar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on

tree. Boyet. Madam, and i)retty mistinesses, give ear: Inunediately they will again be here In their own shapes; for it can never be They will digest this harsh indignity. Prin. Will they return? Boyet. They will, they will, God knows, 290 And leap for joy, though they are lame with

blows: Therefore change favours; and, when they repair,

' Well-liking, plump. 41

ACT V. Scene

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. £<.vua Z.

Blow like sweet roses in this siuumer air. 293 ) Q /'/•('/(. Huw l)l()w? how Mow? sj)euk to be understood. Boifet. Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud;

JDismask'd, their damask's^ sweet commixtuie ^ shown,

c Are angels vailing- clouds, or roses blown. ] Prill. Avaunt, perplexity 1 ^VTiat shall we do, If they return in their own shajies to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you "11 be ad- vis'tl, :joo

Let's mock them still, as well known a.s dis-

guis'd : Let us complain to them what fools were here, Di.sguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; A nd wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be })resented 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, Rosaline, Katharine, and

Maria.

Re-enter the King, Birox, Loxgaville, and Dl'MAIX, in their proper habits.

King. Fair sir, God save you I Wliere 's the

princess? 31 o

Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your

majesty

Command me any service to her thither ?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for

one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [K.vit.

Biron. This ffllow pecks up wit as 2>igeons pease, And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares At wakes and wassails,^ meetings, markets,

fairs; /|[And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth > know, 319

1 Damask's, check's. - Vailing, iiiuking to sink. » Wassails, health-drinkings. 42

Have not the grace to grace it with such show. > This gallant iiins the wenches on his .sleeve; ' Had he been Adam, he had temjited Eve;] ' A' can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he 323 That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; This is the ape of foi'm, monsieur the nice, That, when he plays at fcibles, chides the dice In honourable terms: nay, he can sing A mean* most meanly; and in usheiing, Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet; The stairs, ius he treads on them, kiss his feet: ^This is the tlower that smiles on every one, ^ To .show his teeth as white as whales bone;] ' And consciences, that will not die in debt. Pay him the due of " honey-ton gii'd Boyet." King. A bli.ster on his sweet tongue, with

my heart, 335

That jjut Armado's page out of his ])artl Biron. See where it comes I Behaviour,

what wert thou Till this mad man .sho^\ d thee ? what art thou

now I

Re-enter the Princess, ushered J)y Boyet; Rosa- line, Mahia, and Katharine.

King. All hail, .sweet madam, and fair time

of day ! Prin. "Fair" in "all h.-iil' is fii\d, as I con- ceive. ::i(i King. Construe my speeches bettei", if you m.-iy. Prin. Then \\ish me l)etter; 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 vow: Nor God, nor I, delights in pcrjin-d men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you pro- voke: The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you shoul I have spoke; For \ii-tue's office never breaks men's troth. Now by my maiden honour, yet as jjure 351

As the unsullied lily, I ])rotest, A world of toi'iuents though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a bieaking cause to be

* Mean, tenor part.

ACT V. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR =S LOST.

ACT V. Sceue

Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integi-ity. s'.o King. O, you have liVd m desolation here,

Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;

We have hail i)astimes here and pleasant game : 3C0

A mess^ of Russians left us but of late.

King. How, madam I Russians !

Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtshij) and of state.

Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord : ^ly lady, to^ the manner of the days, •» In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We fouf, indeed, confronted were with four

Biron. 0, 1 am yonrs, aud all that I possess : Ros. All the fool mine ?

In Russian habit: here they stayed an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord. They did not bless us with one happy woid. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. 372

1 A mess, a party of four. * To = according to.

Biron. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle

sweet, y73

Yoiu- wit makes wise things fooUsh: when we

greet, With eyes best seeing, heaven's herv eye, By light we lose hght: your capacity Is of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, aud rich things but poor. Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in

my eye,—

Biron. I am a fool, and full of jioverty. 3so Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong. It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess! Ros. All the fool milled Biron. I cannot give you less.

Ros. Which of the vizards was it that }'ou

woie I Biron. Where ? when ? what A'izard '. why

demand you this? Ros. There, then, that vizard; that super- fluous case Tiiat hid the worse, and show'd the 1 tetter face. King. We are descried; they'll mock us

now downright. Durn. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your highness sad ? .nn

Ros. Help, hold his brows I he '11 swoon I Why look you pale ? Sea-sick, I think, coming from Musco^y. 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 ignor- ance ; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never moi'e to dance,

Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 40l O, never will I tm.st to speeches penn'd.

Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue, Nor never come in vizard to my friend.

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song!

43

ACT V. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene

Taflfeta phrases, silken terms precise, 401;

Three-pil'd hyperl)()les, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; tliese summer-flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation; I do forswear them; and I here protest, 4in By this white glove, — how white the haml. God knows I — Henceforth my wooing mind shall be ex- press'd In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes: And, to begin, wench,— so God help me, law I — My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. lios. Sans sans, I pray you. Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old lage: bear with me, I am sick; I '11 leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see: Write, "Lord have mercy on us" on these

three; They are infected ; in their hearts it lies; 420 They have the plague, and caught it of your

eyes; These lords are visited; you are not free, For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens

to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit : seek not to

undo us. Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue ? Biron. Peace I for I will not have to do with

you. Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. Biron. Sjjeak for yourselves ; my wit is at an end. 4.',o

King. Teach us, sweet niiulam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse.

Prin. The fairest is confession.

Were not you here but even now, di.sguis'd ? King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advis'd i

King. I was, fair madam. Prin. When you then Avere here,

What did you whisper in your lady's earl King. That more than all the world I did

respect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you

will reject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. Prin. Peace, peace! forbear:

44

\i>\\v oath once broke, you force not^ to for- swear. 440 King. Despise me, when I break this oath

of mine. Prin. I will : and therefore keep it. Eosaline, W'luit did the Russian whisper in your ear? Jios. Madam, he swoie that he did hold me dear As precious eyesight, and did value me Above this world; adding thereto moreover That he would wed me, or else die my lover. Prin. God give thee juv of him I the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, 450

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: I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. What, will you have me, or your pearl again ? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on 't: here was a consent, 400 Knowing aforehand of our merriment. To dash it like a Christmas comedy: [|Sonie carry-tale, some jjlease-man, some slight < zany, l

Some mumble-news, some trencher- knight, ^ some Dick, i

That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the

trick To make my lady laugh when she 's dispos'd, ( Told our intents before ; which once disclos'd,] i The ladies did change favours; and then we. Following the signs, wou'd but the sign of she. Now, to our perjury to add more teiToi-, 470 We are again forsworn, in will and error. Much upon this it is: and might not you

[^To Boi/et. Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue ? Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier-. And laugh upon the apple of her eye ?

' Force not, care uot.

■- By th' squier, by the rule.

ACT V. Scene

LOVE S LABOUR 'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene

And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, jesting merrily i 477

You put our page out: go, you are allow'd;^

Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.

You leer upon me, do you ? there 's an eye no

Wounds like a leaden sword.

Bojift. Full merrily

Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. Biro It. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.

Enter Costard.

Welcome, pure wit ! .thou partest a fair fray.

Cost. O Lord, sir — they would know Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Biron. What, are there but three ?

Cost. No, sir; but it is vara fine.

For eveiy one pursents three.

Biron. And three times thrice is nine.

Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us^, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know: 490

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, —

Biron. Is not nine.

Cost. Under correction, sir, we know where- until it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

Cost. O Lord, sir ! — it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it? 490

Cost. O Lord, sir — the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will showwhereuutU it doth amount: for mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man, one poor man — Pompicn the Great, sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies ?

Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pomjjion the Great : for mine own pai't, I know not the degiee of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

Biron. Go, bid them prepare. oio

Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [Exit.

1 Tou are allow' d, you are a licensed fool or jester. - Beg us, beg us as idiots.

Kin(/. Biron, they will shame us : let them not approach. 512

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord : and 't is some policy To have one show woree than the king's and his company. King. I say they shall not come. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'eniile you now: That sport best pleases that doth least know

how: Where zeal strives to content, and the con- tents Dies in the zeal of that which it jjresents: Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, 520

When great things labouring perish in their birth. Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter Armado.

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense

of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace

of words. [Converses apart with the King,

and delivers him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve Godl

Biron. Why ask you ?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. 5-9

Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch ; for, I j^rotest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical ; too too vain, too too vain : but we wall put it, as they say, to fort una del la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy ; the swain, Pompey the Great ; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabseus: 54n

And if these four Worthies in their first show

thrive. These four will change habits, and present the other five.

Biron. There is five in the first show.

King. You are deceived ; 't is not so.

Biron. The pedant, the liraggart, the hedge- priest, the fool and the boy: — 45

ACT V. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene 2.

Abate a throw at novum,iand tlie whole world

again Cannot prick out five such, tike each one in

his vein. King. The ship is under sail, and here she

comes amain. wo

Enter Costard, armed and accoutred., as Pompe)f.

Cost. I Pompey am,

Boyi't. You lie, you are not he.

Cost. I Pompey am,— {Bowing.

Boi/et. With libbard's- head on knee.

Biron. "Well said, old mocker: I must needs

be friends with thee. Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey suruam'd the Big, — Du)n. The Great. Cost. It is, "Great," sir: —

Pompey surnam'd the Great ; That oft ill 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 anns hofore the legs of this sweet lass of France.

[Z/oc'.s to the Princess, and lai/s Jtis anns at Iter feet. If your ladyship would say, "Thanks, Pom- pey," I had done. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. 560

Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect : I made a little fault in " Great."

Biron. My liat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best AVoithy.

Enter Sir Nathaniel, armed, as Alexander. Kath.

When in the world I livVl, I was the world's com- mander ;

IJy east, west, noi-tli, and south, I spread my con- quering might : [Pointing to hix s/tield.

-My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,—

Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for

it stands too right. Biron. Your nose smells "no" in this, most

tender-smelling knight.

' Nomvm, a game played with dice. * Libbard, leopard.

2 Targe, a shield. The tautology is intentional. 4G

J^rin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander. oru

Natlt. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander, —

Boyet. Most true, 'tis light; you were .so, Alisander.

Biron. Pompey the Great, —

Cost. Your ser\'ant, and Costard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take aw'ay Alisander.

Cost. [7o Sir Xath.'\ O, sir, you have over- thrown Alisander the conqueror ! You will be sci-ap'd out of the painted cloth for this: Qyour/ lion, that holds his jxill-axe sitting on a clo.se- < stool, will be given to Ajax: lie will be thee ninth Worthy.] A concpieror, and afeard to^ speak ! run away for shame, Alisander. {^Xath. retires.'] There, an 't shall jtlease you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler : but, for Ali- sander,—alas, you see how 't is, — a little o'er- parted^. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other soii;. ."iQO

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. [Costard retires to bad- of stage.

Enter Holofernes, as Judas; and Moth, <is Jlercidcs.

IIol.

Great Herc'les is j)resented by this imp, fi92

Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed

can II a; And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp.

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. Qiioniam he seemeth in minority, Ergo I come with this apology.

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.

[Moth retires. Judas I am, —

Dinn. A Judas I 600

IIol. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycliped Maccabseus. Bum. Judas Maccabpeus dipt is plain Judas. Biron. A kissing traitor. How art thou

])rov'd .Judas? IIol. Judas I am, —

Dmn. The more shame for you, Judas. Hoi. What mean you, sir?

* O'erparted, overweighted in his part.

ACT V. Scene 2.

LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST.

ACT v. Scene

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hoi. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well foUow'd : Judas was haug'd on

an elder. 6io

HoL I will not be put out of countenance. Biron. Because thou hast no face. HoL What is this? Boyet. A cittern-head. Hum. The head of a bodkin. Biron. A Death's face in a ring. \_Lonci. The face of an old Roman coin,

scarce seen. Boyet. The pommel of Ciesar's falchion. Hum. The carvd-bone face on a flask. Biron. Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. Dii,m. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. h21

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth- drawer. ] And now forward ; for we have put thee in

countenance. Hoi. You have put me out of countenance. Biion. False; we have given thee faces. Hoi. But you have out-fac'd them all. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do .so. Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. .|[And so adieu, sweet Jude ! nay, why dost \ thou .stay?

' D^lm. For the latter end of his name. 630 i Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him:

— Jud-as, away! ]] Hoi. This is not generous, not gentle, not

humble. Boyet. A light for ^Monsieur Judas I it gi'ows

dark, he may stumble. [^Hol. retire.?.

Prin. Alas, poor Maccabseus, how hath he

been baited!

Enter Armado, armed, as Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.

Bum. Thougli my mocks come home by me, I wiU now be meriy.

King. Hector was lint a Troyan in respect of this. 040

Boyet. But is this Hector?

King. I think Hector was not so clean-tim- ber'd.

Long. His leg is too big for Hector's.

Biim. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is Ijest indued in the small.

Biron. This cannot be Hector. 647

Bum. He 's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

^1 rm. The armipotent Mar.s, of lances^ the almighty, 650 Gave Hector a gift, —

Bum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Jhim. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace I — The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; .\ man so breath 'd^, that certain he would fight ye

From morn till night, out of his pavilion. 660 I am that flower, —

That mint.

That columbine. Lord Longaville, rein thy

Bum.

Long.

Arm. Sweet tongue.

Long. I mu.st rather give it the rein, foi' it I'uns against Hector.

Hum. 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 breathed, he was a man. But I will foi-ward with my deface. [To the Princess] Sweet royalty, bestow on me tlie sense of hearing. 670

Prin. Speak, brave Hector : we are much delighted.

Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's .sliji])er.

^Boyet. [Aside to Bum.] Loves her by the- foot. \

Bum. [Aside to Boyet] He may not by the I yard. \

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, — <

Cost. [Coming forurtrd] The party is gone, '} fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months; on her way. <

Ar)n. What meanest thou? 680;

Cost. Faith, unless you play the hone.st Troyan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already : ; 't is yours. <

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among< potentates? thou shalt die. <

Co.?t. Then shall Hector be whipp'd for Ja- <

' Lances, lance-men.

2 So breath'd, so vigorous. 47

ACT V. Scene

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT V. Scene 2.

>quenetta tliiit is quick ])y him, and liaiigM for >Poin])ey that is dead l)y liiin.

U II III. Most rare Pornj)ey!

Jioi/et. Renowned Pomi)ey I 690

Biron. (Greater than great, gi'eat, great, great ^Pompey! Pouipey tlie Huge! ) Dum. Hector trembles. ? Biron. Pompey is moved. More Ates, nioie ^ Ates ! stir them on I stir them on I \ Dum. Hector will challenge him. < Biron. Ay, if a' have no more man's l)l(xid Jill's belly than will sup a Ilea.

Arm. By the north pole, 1 do challenge thee.

Cost. I will not fight with a jjole, like a Jnorthern man: I'll slash; I'll do it by the ^ sword. 1 pray you, let me borrow my arms ^ again. 702

) Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies ! ^ Cost. I '11 do it in my shirt. \_Begins to un- idress himself.]

S Diiin. Most resolute Pompey ! ^ J/ot/t. Master, let me take you a button-hole >lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing ^ for the combat? What mean you ? You will