Enter Jaquenetta and the Clown [Costard]
JAQUENETTA God give you good morrow, Master Person76.
NATHANIEL Master Person, quasi77 pierce-one? And if one should
be pierced, which is the one?
COSTARD Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is likest79 to a
hogshead80.
HOLOFERNES Of piercing a hogshead! A good lustre of conceit81 in
a turf of earth82, fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a
swine: ’tis pretty, it is well.
JAQUENETTA Good Master Parson, be so good as read
Gives letter to Holofernes
me this letter. It was given me by Costard, and
sent me from Don Armado. I beseech you read it.
HOLOFERNES Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra
ruminat,88 — and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan, I may speak
of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
Venetia, Venetia,90
Chi non ti vede non ti pretia.
Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not,
Sings
loves thee not? Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.93
Under pardon94, sir, what are the contents? Or rather, as
Horace95 says in his— What, my soul, verses?
NATHANIEL Ay, sir, and very learned.
HOLOFERNES Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse. Lege,97
domine.
Reads
NATHANIEL ‘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’ll faithful prove.
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers102 bowed.
Study his bias leaves and makes his book103 thine eyes,
Where all those pleasures live that art104 would comprehend.
If knowledge be the mark105, to know thee shall suffice:
Well learnèd is that tongue that well can thee commend,
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder,
Which is to me some praise that I thy parts108 admire.
Thy eye Jove109’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which not to anger bent110, is music and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou art, O, pardon, love, this wrong,
That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.’
Takes the letter
HOLOFERNES You find not the apostrophus113, and so
miss the accent. Let me supervise the canzonet114. Here are
only numbers ratified115, but for the elegancy, facility, and
golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso116 was the man:
and why indeed ‘Naso’, but for smelling out the odoriferous117
flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari118 is nothing: so
doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse
his rider. But, damosella120 virgin, was this directed to you?
JAQUENETTA Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the
strange122 queen’s lords.
HOLOFERNES I will overglance the superscript123: ‘To the snow-
white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.’ I will look
again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination125 of the
party writing to the person written unto: ‘Your ladyship’s in
all desired employment127, Berowne.’
NATHANIEL Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the votaries
with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent129
of the stranger queen’s, which accidentally, or by the way of130
progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go131, my sweet, deliver
this paper into the hand of the king: it may concern much132.
Stay not thy compliment: I forgive thy duty133, adieu.
JAQUENETTA Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life.
COSTARD Have with thee135, my girl.
Exit [Costard with Jaquenetta]
NATHANIEL Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very
religiously: and as a certain father137 saith—
HOLOFERNES Sir tell me not of the father, I do fear colourable138
colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir
Nathaniel?
NATHANIEL Marvellous well for the pen141.
HOLOFERNES I do dine today at the father’s of a certain pupil of
mine, where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the
table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the
parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben145
venuto, where I will prove those verses to be very unlearnèd,
neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech
your society148.
NATHANIEL And thank you too, for society, saith the text149, is the
happiness of life.
HOLOFERNES And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes151 it.—
To Dull
Sir, I do invite you too: you shall not say me nay.
Pauca verba.— Away, the gentles are at their game153, and we
will to our recreation.
Exeunt
[Act 4 Scene 3]
running scene 4 continues
Enter Berowne, with a paper in his hand, alone
BEROWNE The king, he is hunting the deer: I am coursing1
myself. They have pitched a toil: I am toiling in a pitch, pitch2
that defiles. Defile, a foul word. Well, set thee down3, sorrow,
for so they say the fool said, and so say I4, and I the fool. Well
proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills4
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 in10 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
sonnets already. The clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the
lady hath it. Sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the
world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here
comes one with a paper. God give him grace to groan16!
He stands aside. The King entereth [with a paper]
KING Ay me!
Speaks aside through the rest of the scene
BEROWNE Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid,
thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under20
the left pap20. In faith, secrets!
Reads
KING ‘So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams23, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew24 that on my cheeks down flows.
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep26,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light.
Thou shin’st in every tear that I do weep,
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee:
So ridest thou triumphing 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 still34 make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel,
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.’
How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper.
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes h
ere?
Enter Longaville [with a paper]
The King steps aside
What, Longaville, and reading? Listen, ear.
BEROWNE Now, in thy40 likeness, one more fool appear!
LONGAVILLE Ay me, I am forsworn!
Speaks aside through the rest of the scene
BEROWNE Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers42.
KING In love, I hope. Sweet fellowship in shame!
BEROWNE One drunkard loves another of the name44.
LONGAVILLE Am I the first that have been perjured so?
BEROWNE I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know.
Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society47,
The shape of Love’s Tyburn that hangs up simplicity48.
LONGAVILLE I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move49.
Reads
‘O sweet Maria, empress of my love—’
Tears paper
These numbers51 will I tear and write in prose.
BEROWNE O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose52:
Disfigure not his shop53.
LONGAVILLE This same shall go.
He reads the sonnet
‘Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore, but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee.
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love:
Thy grace62 being gained cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhal’st65 this vapour-vow, in thee it is.
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To68 lose an oath to win a paradise?’
BEROWNE This is the liver vein,69 which makes flesh a deity,
A green goose70 a goddess. Pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! We are much out o’th’way71.
LONGAVILLE By whom shall I send this? Company? Stay.
Enter Dumaine [with a paper]
Longaville steps aside
BEROWNE All hid, all hid: an old infant play73.
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye75.
More sacks to the mill. O heavens, I have my wish!76
Dumaine transformed! Four woodcocks77 in a dish!
DUMAINE O most divine Kate!
BEROWNE O most profane coxcomb79!
DUMAINE By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
BEROWNE By earth, she is not, corporal81: there you lie.
DUMAINE Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted82.
BEROWNE An amber-coloured raven was well noted83.
DUMAINE As upright as the cedar.
BEROWNE Stoop85, I say.
Her shoulder is with child86.
DUMAINE As fair as day.
BEROWNE Ay, as some days, but then no sun must shine.
DUMAINE O that I had my wish!
Aside
LONGAVILLE And I had mine!
Aside
KING And I mine too, good lord!
BEROWNE Amen, so I had mine! Is not that a good word92?
DUMAINE I would forget her, but a93 fever she
Reigns in my blood and will remembered be.
BEROWNE A fever in your blood? Why then incision95
Would let her out in saucers. Sweet misprision96!
DUMAINE Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ.
BEROWNE Once more I’ll mark how love can vary wit98.
Reads his sonnet
DUMAINE ‘On a day — alack the day! —
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing101 fair
Playing in the wanton102 air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, can passage find.
That the lover, sick to death105,
Wish himself the heaven’s breath.
“Air”, quoth he, “thy cheeks may blow,
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn.
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet111,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet112.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee:
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope116 were,
And deny himself for117 Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.” ’
This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love’s fasting pain.
O, would the king, Berowne, and Longaville
Were lovers too! Ill, to example122 ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note123,
For none offend where all alike do dote124.
Comes forward
LONGAVILLE Dumaine, thy love is far from charity125,
That in love’s grief desirest society126.
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o’erheard and taken napping128 so.
Comes forward
KING Come, sir, you blush: as his your case is such129,
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You do not love Maria? Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathèd arms athwart133
His loving bosom to keep down his heart?
I have been closely135 shrouded in this bush
And marked you both and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion137,
Saw sighs reek138 from you, noted well your passion.
‘Ay me’, says one, ‘O Jove!’ the other cries,
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other’s eyes:
To Longaville
You would for paradise break faith and troth141,
To Dumaine
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
What will Berowne say when that he shall hear
Faith infringèd which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn? How will he spend145 his wit?
How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it!
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by148 me.
Comes forward
BEROWNE Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me.
Good heart, what grace151 hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms152 for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches153. In your tears
There is no certain princess that appears.
You’ll not be perjured, ’tis a hateful thing,
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting156.
But are you not ashamed? Nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot158?
To Longaville
You found his mote159, the king your mote did see,
But I a beam160 do find in each of three.
O, what a scene of fool’ry have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen162!
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformèd to a gnat164!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig165,
And profound Solomon tuning a jig166,
And Nestor play at push-pin167 with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys168.
Where lies thy grief? O, tell me, good Dumaine;
And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege’s? All about the breast?
A
caudle172, ho!
KING Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view174?
BEROWNE Not you to me, but I betrayed by you:
I, that am honest176, I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engagèd in,
I am betrayed by keeping company
With men like you, men of inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for Joan? Or spend a minute’s time
In pruning me182? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state184, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb—
Starts to leave
KING Soft!186 Whither away so fast?
A true187 man or a thief that gallops so?
BEROWNE I post188 from love. Good lover, let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta [with a letter] and Clown [Costard]
JAQUENETTA God bless the king!
KING What present190 hast thou there?
COSTARD Some certain treason.
KING What makes treason192 here?
COSTARD Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
KING If it mar194 nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.
JAQUENETTA I beseech your grace, let this letter be read.
Gives letter to the King
Our person misdoubts197 it: ’twas treason, he said.
KING Berowne, read it over—
Gives the letter to Berowne
Where hadst thou it?
To Jaquenetta
JAQUENETTA Of Costard.
[Berowne] reads the letter
KING Where hadst thou it?
COSTARD Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
Berowne tears the letter
KING How now? What is in you? Why dost thou tear it?
BEROWNE A toy204, my liege, a toy. Your grace needs not fear it.
LONGAVILLE It did move him to passion205, and therefore let’s hear it.
DUMAINE It is Berowne’s writing and here is his name.
Gathers the pieces and reads them
BEROWNE Ah, you whoreson loggerhead207! You were born to do me shame.—
To Costard
Guilty, my lord, guilty. I confess, I confess.
KING What?
BEROWNE That you three fools lacked me fool to make up the mess210:
Love's Labour's Lost Page 7