The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 336
BOYET To make Judas hang himself.
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HOLOFERNES Begin, sir; you are my elder.
BEROWNE Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.
HOLOFERNES I will not be put out of countenance.
BEROWNE Because thou hast no face.
HOLOFERNES What is this?
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BOYET A cittern-head.
DUMAINE The head of a bodkin.
BEROWNE A death’s face in a ring.
LONGAVILLE The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
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BOYET The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.
DUMAINE The carved-bone face on a flask.
BEROWNE Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.
DUMAINE Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
BEROWNE Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And
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now forward, for we have put thee in countenance.
HOLOFERNES You have put me out of countenance.
BEROWNE False! We have given thee faces.
HOLOFERNES But you have outfaced them all.
BEROWNE An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
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BOYET Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
DUMAINE For the latter end of his name.
BEROWNE
For the ass to the Jude? Give it him. Jud-as, away!
HOLOFERNES
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
BOYET
A light for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark; he may
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stumble. [Holofernes retires.]
PRINCESS Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!
Enter ARMADO, the Braggart, as Hector.
BEROWNE Hide thy head, Achilles! Here comes Hector in arms.
DUMAINE Though my mocks come home by me, I will
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now be merry.
KING Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
BOYET But is this Hector?
KING I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.
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LONGAVILLE His leg is too big for Hector’s.
DUMAINE More calf, certain.
BOYET No, he is best endued in the small.
BEROWNE This cannot be Hector.
DUMAINE He’s a god or a painter, for he makes faces.
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ARMADO The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift –
DUMAINE A gilt nutmeg.
BEROWNE A lemon.
LONGAVILLE Stuck with cloves.
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DUMAINE No, cloven.
ARMADO Peace!
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed that certain he would fight, yea,
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From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower –
DUMAINE That mint!
LONGAVILLE That columbine!
ARMADO Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
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LONGAVILLE I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.
DUMAINE Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.
ARMADO The sweet war-man is dead and rotten. Sweet
chucks beat not the bones of the buried. When he
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breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my
device. Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of
hearing. [Berowne steps forth.]
PRINCESS Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.
ARMADO I do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.
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BOYET Loves her by the foot.
DUMAINE He may not by the yard.
ARMADO This Hector far surmounted Hannibal;
The party is gone –
COSTARD Fellow Hector, she is gone! She is two months
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on her way.
ARMADO What meanest thou?
COSTARD Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the
poor wench is cast away: she’s quick, the child brags in
her belly already. ’Tis yours.
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ARMADO Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die!
COSTARD Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta
that is quick by him and hanged for Pompey that is
dead by him.
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DUMAINE Most rare Pompey!
BOYET Renowned Pompey!
BEROWNE Greater than ‘Great’. Great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!
DUMAINE Hector trembles.
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BEROWNE Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates!
Stir them on, stir them on!
DUMAINE Hector will challenge him.
BEROWNE Ay, if ‘a have no more man’s blood in his belly than will sup a flea.
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ARMADO By the north pole, I do challenge thee.
COSTARD I will not fight with a pole like a northern
man. I’ll slash, I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let
me borrow my arms again.
DUMAINE Room for the incensed Worthies.
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COSTARD I’ll do it in my shirt.
DUMAINE Most resolute Pompey!
MOTH Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do
you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat. What
mean you? You will lose your reputation.
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ARMADO Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me. I will not combat in my shirt.
DUMAINE You may not deny it. Pompey hath made the challenge.
ARMADO Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
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BEROWNE What reason have you for’t?
ARMADO The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance.
MOTH True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want
of linen. Since when, I’ll be sworn he wore none but a
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dishclout of Jaquenetta’s, and that ‘a wears next his
heart for a favour.
Enter a messenger, Monsieur MARCADÉ.
MARCADÉ God save you, madam.
PRINCESS Welcome, Marcadé,
But that thou interruptest our merriment.
MARCADÉ I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring
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Is heavy in my tongue. The King, your father –
PRINCESS Dead, for my life!
MARCADÉ Even so; my tale is told.
BEROWNE
Worthies, away! The scene begins to cloud.
ARMADO For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I
have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of
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discretion and I will right myself like a soldier.
Exeunt Worthies.
KING How fares your majesty?
PRINCESS Boyet, prepare. I will away tonight.
KING Madam, not so. I do beseech you, stay.
PRINCESS Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
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For all your fair endeavours, and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
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In the converse of breath. Your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtained.
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KING The extreme parts of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed
And often at his very loose decides
That which long process could not arbitrate.
And though
the mourning brow of progeny
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Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince,
Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow jostle it
From what it purposed; since to wail friends lost
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Is not by much so wholesome-profitable
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
PRINCESS
I understand you not. My griefs are double.
BEROWNE
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the King.
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For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Played foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seemed ridiculous –
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As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain,
Formed by the eye and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
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To every varied object in his glance;
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes that look into these faults,
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Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours. We to ourselves prove false
By being once false, for ever to be true
To those that make us both – fair ladies, you.
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And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.
PRINCESS We have received your letters full of love,
Your favours, the ambassadors of love,
And in our maiden counsel rated them
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At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time.
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
DUMAINE
Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest.
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LONGAVILLE So did our looks.
ROSALINE We did not quote them so.
KING Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
PRINCESS A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
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No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:
If for my love – as there is no such cause –
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust, but go with speed
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To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world,
There stay until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about the annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
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Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
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Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,
I will be thine. And, till that instance, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation
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For the remembrance of my father’s death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither entitled in the other’s heart.
KING If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
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The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence, hermit then – my heart is in thy breast.
[They converse apart.]
DUMAINE But what to me, my love? But what to me? A wife?
KATHERINE A beard, fair health and honesty;
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With threefold love, I wish you all these three.
DUMAINE O, shall I say, ‘I thank you, gentle wife’?
KATHERINE Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day
I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say.
Come when the King doth to my lady come;
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