The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

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The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 109

by William Shakespeare


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

  MOTE No, sir. That were fast and loose. Thou shalt to prison.

  COSTARD Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.

  MOTE What shall some see?

  COSTARD Nay, nothing, Master Mote, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners 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 therefore I can be quiet.

  Exeunt Mote and Costard

  ARMADO I do affect the very ground—which is base-where her shoe—which is baser—guided by her foot—which is basest—doth tread. I shall be forsworn—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, and he had an excellent strength. Yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn: the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not. His disgrace is to be called boy, but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour; rust, rapier; be still, drum: for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes, in folio. Exit

  2.1 Enter the Princess of France with three attending ladies-Maria, Catherine, and Rosaline-and three lords, one named Boyet

  BOYET

  Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits.

  Consider who the King your father sends,

  To whom he sends, and what’s his embassy:

  Yourself, held precious in the world’s esteem,

  To parley with the sole inheritor

  Of 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

  When she did starve the general world beside

  And prodigally gave them all to you.

  PRINCESS

  Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,

  Needs not the painted flourish of your praise.

  Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,

  Not uttered 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,

  You are not ignorant all-telling fame

  Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a vow

  Till painful study shall outwear three years

  No woman may approach his silent court.

  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 dispatch,

  Importunes personal conference with his grace.

  Haste, signify so much while we attend,

  Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.

  BOYET

  Proud of employment, willingly I go.

  PRINCESS

  All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. Exit Boyet

  Who are the votaries, my loving lords,

  That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?

  A LORD

  Lord Longueville is one.

  PRINCESS Know you the man?

  MARIA

  I know him, madam. At a marriage feast

  Between Lord Perigord and the beauteous heir

  Of Jaques Fauconbridge solemnized

  In Normandy saw I this Longueville.

  A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed,

  Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms.

  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 matched with too blunt a will,

  Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills

  It should none spare that come within his power.

  PRINCESS

  Some merry mocking lord, belike-is’t so?

  MARIA

  They say so most that most his humours know.

  PRINCESS

  Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.

  Who are the rest?

  CATHERINE

  The young Dumaine, a well-accomplished 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 Alençon’s once,

  And much too little of that good I saw

  Is my report to his great worthiness.

  ROSALINE

  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.

  His eye begets occasion for his wit,

  For every object that the one doth catch

  The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,

  Which his fair tongue, conceit’s expositor,

  Delivers in such apt and gracious words

  That aged ears play truant at his tales,

  And younger hearings are quite ravished,

  So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

  PRINCESS

  God bless my ladies, are they all in love,

  That every one her own hath garnished

  With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

  A LORD

  Here comes Boyet.

  Enter Boyet

  PRINCESS

  Now, what admittance, lord?

  BOYET

  Navarre had notice of your fair approach,

  And he and his competitors in oath

  Were all addressed 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 dispensation for his oath

  To let you enter his unpeopled house.

  Enter Navarre, Longueville, Dumaine, and Biron

  Here comes Navarre.

  KING Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.

  PRINCESS ‘Fair’ I give you back again, and welcome I have not yet. The roof of this court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.

  KING

  You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.

  PRINCESS

  I will be welcome, then. Conduct me thither.

  KING

  Hear me, dear lady. I have sworn an oath—

  PRINCESS

  Our Lady help my lord He’ll be forsworn.

  KING

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

  PRINCESS

  Why, will shall break it—will and nothing else.

  KING

  Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.

  PRINCESS

  Were my lord so his ignorance were wise,

  Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.

  I hear your grace hath sworn out housekeeping.

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

  And sin to break it.

  But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold.

  To teach a teacher ill beseemeth m
e.

  Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,

  And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

  She gives him a paper

  KING

  Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.

  PRINCESS

  You will the sooner that I were away,

  For you’ll prove perjured if you make me stay.

  Navarre reads the paper

  BIRON (to Rosaline)

  Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

  ⌈FROSALINE⌉

  Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

  BIRON

  I know you did.

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  How needless was it then

  To ask the question!

  BIRON

  You must not be so quick.

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  ‘Tis ’long of you, that spur me with such questions.

  BIRON

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

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  Not till it leave the rider in the mire.

  BIRON

  What time o’ day?

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  The hour that fools should ask.

  BIRON

  Now fair befall your mask.

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  Fair fall the face it covers.

  BIRON

  And send you many lovers.

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  Amen, so you be none.

  BIRON

  Nay, then will I be gone.

  KING (to the Princess)

  Madam, your father here doth intimate

  The payment of a hundred thousand crowns,

  Being but the one-half of an entire sum

  Disbursed by my father in his wars.

  But say that he or we—as neither have—

  Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid

  A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which

  One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,

  Although not valued to the money’s worth.

  If then the King your father will restore

  But that one half which is unsatisfied,

  We will give up our right in Aquitaine

  And hold fair friendship with his majesty.

  But that, it seems, he little purposeth,

  For here he doth demand to have repaid

  A hundred thousand crowns, and not demands,

  On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,

  To have his title live in Aquitaine,

  Which we much rather had depart withal,

  And have the money by our father lent,

  Than Aquitaine, so gelded as it is.

  Dear Princess, were not his requests so far

  From reason’s yielding, your fair self should make

  A yielding ’gainst some reason in my breast,

  And go well satisfied to France again.

  PRINCESS

  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.

  KING

  I do protest I never heard of it,

  And if you prove it I’ll repay it back

  Or yield up Aquitaine.

  PRINCESS We arrest your word.

  Boyet, you can produce acquittances

  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.

  Tomorrow 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

  Make tender of to thy true worthiness.

  You may not come, fair princess, within my gates,

  But here without you shall be so received

  As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,

  Though so denied fair harbour in my house.

  Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell.

  Tomorrow shall we visit you again.

  PRINCESS

  Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace.

  KING

  Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.

  Exit with Longueville and Dumaine

  BIRON (to Rosaline) Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.

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

  BIRON I would you heard it groan.

  ROSALINE Is the fool sick?

  BIRON Sick at the heart.

  ROSALINE

  Alack, let it blood.

  BIRON

  Would that do it good?

  ROSALINE

  My physic says ‘Ay’.

  BIRON

  Will you prick’t with your eye?

  ROSALINE

  Non point, with my knife.

  BIRON

  Now God save thy life.

  ROSALINE

  And yours, from long living.

  BIRON

  I cannot stay thanksgiving. Exit

  Enter Dumaine

  DUMAINE (to Boyet)

  Sir, I pray you a word. What lady is that same?

  BOYET

  The heir of Alençon, Catherine her name.

  DUMAINE

  A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. Exit

  Enter Longueville

  LONGUEVILLE (to Boyet)

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

  BOYET

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

  LONGUEVILLE

  Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.

  BOYET

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

  LONGUEVILLE

  Pray you, sir, whose daughter?

  BOYET

  Her mother’s, I have heard.

  LONGUEVILLE

  God’s blessing on your beard !

  BOYET

  Good sir, be not offended.

  She is an heir of Fauconbridge.

  LONGUEVILLE

  Nay, my choler is ended.

  She is a most sweet lady.

  BOYET

  Not unlike, sir. That may be.

  Exit Longueville

  Enter Biron

  BIRON

  What’s her name in the cap?

  BOYET

  Rosaline, by good hap.

  BIRON

  Is she wedded or no?

  BOYET

  To her will, sir, or so.

  BIRON

  O, you are welcome, sir. Adieu.

  BOYET

  Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

  Exit Biron

  MARIA

  That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord.

  Not a word with him but a jest.

  BOYET And every jest but a word.

  PRINCESS

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

  BOYET

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

  ⌈CATHERINE⌉

  Two hot sheeps, marry.

  BOYET

  And wherefore not ships?

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

  ⌈CATHERINE⌉

  You sheep and I pasture—shall that finish the jest?

  BOYET

  So you grant pasture for me.

  ⌈CATHERINE⌉

  Not so, gentle beast.

  My lips are no common, though several they be.

  BOYET

  Belonging to whom?

  ⌈CATHERINE⌉

  To my fortunes and me.

  PRINCESS

  Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree.


  This civil war of wits were much better used

  On Navarre and his bookmen, for here ’tis abused.

  BOYET

  If my observation, which very seldom lies,

  By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,

  Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

  PRINCESS With what?

  BOYET

  With that which we lovers entitle ‘affected’.

  PRINCESS Your reason?

  BOYET

  Why, all his behaviours did make their retire

  To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.

  His heart like an agate with your print impressed,

  Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed.

  His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,

  Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be.

  All senses to that sense did make their repair,

  To feel only looking on fairest of fair.

  Methought all his senses were locked in his eye,

  As jewels in crystal, for some prince to buy,

  Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glassed,

  Did point you to buy them along as you passed.

  His face’s own margin did quote such amazes

  That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.

  I’ll give you Aquitaine and all that is his

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

  PRINCESS

  Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed.

  BOYET

  But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclosed.

  I only have made a mouth of his eye

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

  ⌈ROSALINE⌉

  Thou art an old love-monger, and speak’st skilfully.

  ⌈MARIA⌉

  He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him.

  ⌈CATHERINE⌉

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

  BOYET

  Do you hear, my mad wenches?

  ⌈MARIA⌉

  No.

  BOYET

  What then, do you see?

  ⌈CATHERINE⌉

  Ay—our way to be gone.

  BOYET

  You are too hard for me.

  Exeunt

  3.1 Enter Armado the braggart, and Mote his boy

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

  MOTE (sings) Concolinel.

  ARMADO Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years, take this key. Give enlargement to the swain. Bring him festinately hither. I must employ him in a letter to my love.

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

  ARMADO How meanest thou—brawling in French?

  MOTE No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue’s end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throat as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose as if you snuffed up love by smelling love, with your hat penthouse-like o’er the shop of your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket like a man after the old painting, and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betrayed without these, and make them men of note—do you note? men—that most are affected to these.

 

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