The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

KING

  Price you yourselves. What buys your company?

  ROSALINE

  Your absence only.

  KING

  That can never be.

  ROSALINE

  Then cannot we be bought, and so adieu—

  Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

  KING

  If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.

  ROSALINE

  In private, then.

  KING

  I am best pleased with that.

  The King and Rosaline talk apart

  BIRON (to the Princess, taking her for Rosaline)

  White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

  PRINCESS

  Honey and milk and sugar—there is three.

  BIRON

  Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice—

  Metheglin, wort, and malmsey—well run, dice!

  There’s half-a-dozen sweets.

  PRINCESS

  Seventh sweet, adieu.

  Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.

  BIRON

  One word in secret.

  PRINCESS

  Let it not be sweet.

  BIRON

  Thou griev’st my gall.

  PRINCESS Gall—bitter!

  BIRON Therefore meet.

  Biron and the Princess talk apart

  DUMAINE (to Maria, taking her for Catherine)

  Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

  MARIA

  Name it.

  DUMAINE Fair lady—

  MARIA Say you so? Fair lord-

  Take that for your ‘fair lady’.

  DUMAINE

  Please it you,

  As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu.

  Dumaine and Maria talk apart

  CATHERINE

  What, was your visor made without a tongue?

  LONGUEVILLE (taking Catherine for Maria)

  I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

  CATHERINE

  O, for your reason ! Quickly, sir, I long.

  LONGUEVILLE

  You have a double tongue within your mask,

  And would afford my speechless visor half.

  CATHERINE

  ‘Veal’, quoth the Dutchman. Is not veal a calf?

  LONGUEVILLE

  A calf, fair lady?

  CATHERINE No, a fair lord calf.

  LONGUEVILLE

  Let’s part the word.

  CATHERINE No, I’ll not be your half.

  Take all and wean it, it may prove an ox.

  LONGUEVILLE

  Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks !

  Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so.

  CATHERINE

  Then die a calf before your horns do grow.

  LONGUEVILLE

  One word in private with you ere I die.

  CATHERINE

  Bleat softly, then. The butcher hears you cry.

  Longueville and Catherine talk apart

  BOYET

  The tongues 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

  Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

  ROSALINE

  Not one word more, my maids. Break off, break off.

  BIRON

  By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!

  KING

  Farewell, mad wenches, you have simple wits.

  Exeunt the King, lords, and blackamoors

  ⌈The ladies unmask⌉

  PRINCESS

  Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.

  Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?

  BOYET

  Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out.

  ROSALINE

  Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

  PRINCESS

  O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout !

  Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight,

  Or ever but in visors show their faces?

  This pert Biron was out of count’nance quite.

  ROSALINE

  Ah, they were all in lamentable cases.

  The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.

  PRINCESS

  Biron did swear himself out of all suit.

  MARIA

  Dumaine was at my service, and his sword.

  ‘Non point,’ quoth I. My servant straight was mute.

  CATHERINE

  Lord Longueville said I came o’er his heart,

  And trow you what he called me?

  PRINCESS

  ‘Qualm’, perhaps.

  CATHERINE

  Yes, in good faith.

  PRINCESS

  Go, sickness as thou art.

  ROSALINE

  Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.

  But will you hear? The King is my love sworn.

  PRINCESS

  And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.

  CATHERINE

  And Longueville was for my service born.

  MARIA

  Dumaine is mine, as sure as bark on tree.

  BOYET

  Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear.

  Immediately they will again be here

  In their own shapes, for it can never be

  They will digest this harsh indignity.

  PRINCESS

  Will they return?

  BOYET They will, they will, God knows,

  And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows.

  Therefore change favours, and when they repair,

  Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

  PRINCESS

  How ‘blow’ ? How ‘blow’ ? Speak to be understood.

  BOYET

  Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud;

  Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown,

  Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

  PRINCESS

  Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do

  If they return in their own shapes to woo?

  ROSALINE

  Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised,

  Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised.

  Let us complain to them what fools were here,

  Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear,

  And wonder what they were, and to what end

  Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penned,

  And their rough carriage so ridiculous,

  Should be presented at our tent to us.

  BOYET

  Ladies, withdraw. The gallants are at hand.

  PRINCESS

  Whip, to our tents, as roes run over land!

  Exeunt the ladies

  Enter the King, Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville, as themselves

  KING

  Fair sir, God save you. Where’s the Princess?

  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. Exit

  BIRON

  This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons peas,

  And utters it again when God doth please.

  He is wit’s pedlar, and retails his wares

  At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs.

  And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,

  Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

  This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve.

  Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.

  A can carve too, and lisp, why, this is he

  That kissed his hand away in courtesy.

  This is the ape of form, Monsieur the Nice,

&nb
sp; That when he plays at tables chides the dice

  In honourable terms. Nay, he can sing

  A mean most meanly, and in ushering

  Mend him who can. The ladies call him sweet.

  The stairs as he treads on them kiss his feet.

  This is the flower that smiles on everyone

  To show his teeth as white as whales bone,

  And consciences that will not die in debt

  Pay him the due of ‘honey-tongued’ Boyet.

  KING

  A blister on his sweet tongue with my heart,

  That put Armado’s page out of his part!

  Enter the ladies and Boyet

  BIRON

  See where it comes. Behaviour, what wert thou

  Till this madman showed thee, and what art thou

  now ?

  KING

  All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

  PRINCESS

  ‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive.

  KING

  Construe my speeches better, if you may.

  PRINCESS

  Then wish me better. I will give you leave.

  KING

  We came to visit you, and purpose now

  To lead you to our court. Vouchsafe it, then.

  PRINCESS

  This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow.

  Nor God nor I delights in perjured men.

  KING

  Rebuke me not for that which you provoke.

  The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

  PRINCESS

  You nickname virtue. ‘Vice’ you should have spoke,

  For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth.

  Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure

  As the unsullied lily, I protest,

  A world of torments though I should endure,

  I would not yield to be your house’s guest,

  So much I hate a breaking cause to be

  Of heavenly oaths, vowed with integrity.

  KING

  O, you have lived in desolation here,

  Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

  PRINCESS

  Not so, my lord. It is not so, I swear.

  We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game.

  A mess of Russians left us but of late.

  KING

  How, madam? Russians?

  PRINCESS

  Ay, in truth, my lord.

  Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

  ROSALINE

  Madam, speak true.—It is not so, my lord.

  My lady, to the manner of the days,

  In courtesy gives undeserving praise.

  We four indeed confronted were with four

  In Russian habit. Here they stayed an hour,

  And talked apace, and in that hour, my lord,

  They did not bless us with one happy word.

  I dare not call them fools, but this I think:

  When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

  BIRON

  This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet,

  Your wits makes wise things foolish. When we greet,

  With eyes’ best seeing, heaven’s fiery eye,

  By light we lose light. Your capacity

  Is of that nature that to your huge store

  Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.

  ROSALINE

  This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye—

  BIRON

  I am a fool, and full of poverty.

  ROSALINE

  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.

  ROSALINE

  All the fool mine!

  BIRON

  I cannot give you less.

  ROSALINE

  Which of the visors was it that you wore?

  BIRON

  Where? When? What visor? Why demand you this?

  ROSALINE

  There, then, that visor, that superfluous case,

  That hid the worse and showed the better face.

  KING (aside to the lords)

  We were descried. They’ll mock us now, downright.

  DUMAINE (aside to the King)

  Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.

  PRINCESS

  Amazed, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?

  ROSALINE

  Help, hold his brows, he’ll swoon. Why look you

  pale?

  Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

  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 ignorance,

  Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit,

  And I will wish thee nevermore to dance,

  Nor nevermore in Russian habit wait.

  O, never will I trust to speeches penned,

  Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue,

  Nor never come in visor to my friend,

  Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song.

  Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,

  Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,

  Figures pedantical-these summer flies

  Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.

  I do forswear them, and I here protest,

  By this white glove—how white the hand, God

  knows!—

  Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expressed

  In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes.

  And to begin, wench, so God help me, law!

  My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

  ROSALINE

  Sans ‘sans’, I pray you.

  BIRON

  Yet I have a trick

  Of the old rage. Bear with me, I am sick.

  I’ll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see.

  Write ‘Lord have mercy on us’ on those three.

  They are infected, in their hearts it lies.

  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.

  PRINCESS

  No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.

  BIRON

  Our states are forfeit. Seek not to undo us.

  ROSALINE

  It is not so, for how can this be true,

  That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

  BIRON

  Peace, for I will not have to do with you.

  ROSALINE

  Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

  BIRON (to the lords)

  Speak for yourselves. My wit is at an end.

  KING

  Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression

  Some fair excuse.

  PRINCESS

  The fairest is confession.

  Were not you here but even now disguised?

  KING

  Madam, I was.

  PRINCESS

  And were you well advised?

  KING

  I was, fair madam.

  PRINCESS

  When you then were here,

  What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?

  KING

  That more than all the world I did respect her.

  PRINCESS

  When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

  KING

  Upon mine honour, no.

  PRINCESS

  Peace, peace,forbear.

  Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

  KING

  Despise me when I break this oath of mine.

  PRINCESS

  I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline,

  What did the Russian whisper in your
ear?

  ROSALINE

  Madam, he swore 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.

  PRINCESS

  God give thee joy of him! The noble lord

  Most honourably doth uphold his word.

  KING

  What mean you, madam? By my life, my troth,

  I never swore this lady such an oath.

  ROSALINE

  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.

  PRINCESS

  Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear,

  And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.

  (To Biron) 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,

  Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

  To dash it like a Christmas comedy.

  Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,

  Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick

  That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick

  To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,

  Told our intents before, which once disclosed,

  The ladies did change favours, and then we,

  Following the signs, wooed but the sign of she.

  Now, to our perjury to add more terror,

  We are again forsworn, in will and error.

  Much upon this ’tis, (to Boyet) and might not you

  Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?

  Do not you know my lady’s foot by th’ square,

  And laugh upon the apple of her eye,

  And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,

  Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

  You put our page out. Go, you are allowed.

  Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.

  You leer upon me, do you? There’s an eye

  Wounds like a leaden sword.

  BOYET

  Full merrily

  Hath this brave manège, this career been run.

  BIRON

  Lo, he is tilting straight. Peace, I have done.

  Enter Costard the clown

  Welcome, pure wit. Thou partest a fair fray.

  COSTARD

  O Lord, sir, they would know 485

  Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

  BIRON

  What, are there but three?

  COSTARD

  No, sir, but it is vara fine,

  For everyone pursents three.

  BIRON

  And three times thrice is nine.

  COSTARD

  Not so, sir, under correction, sir, I hope it is not so.