Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 279

by William Shakespeare


  Moth

  Thrice-worthy gentleman!

  Don Adriano de Armado

  Shall I tell you a thing?

  Holofernes

  We attend.

  Don Adriano de Armado

  We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I beseech you, follow.

  Holofernes

  Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while.

  Dull

  Nor understood none neither, sir.

  Holofernes

  Allons! we will employ thee.

  Dull

  I’ll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play

  On the tabour to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.

  Holofernes

  Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away!

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. THE SAME.

  Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria

  Princess

  Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,

  If fairings come thus plentifully in:

  A lady wall’d about with diamonds!

  Look you what I have from the loving king.

  Rosaline

  Madame, came nothing else along with that?

  Princess

  Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme

  As would be cramm’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.

  Rosaline

  That was the way to make his godhead wax,

  For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

  Katharine

  Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

  Rosaline

  You’ll ne’er be friends with him; a’ kill’d your sister.

  Katharine

  He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;

  And so she died: had she 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.

  Rosaline

  What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

  Katharine

  A light condition in a beauty dark.

  Rosaline

  We need more light to find your meaning out.

  Katharine

  You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff;

  Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.

  Rosaline

  Look what you do, you do it still i’ the dark.

  Katharine

  So do not you, for you are a light wench.

  Rosaline

  Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.

  Katharine

  You weigh me not? O, that’s you care not for me.

  Rosaline

  Great reason; for ‘past cure is still past care.’

  Princess

  Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.

  But Rosaline, you have a favour too:

  Who sent it? and what is it?

  Rosaline

  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 fairest goddess on the ground:

  I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.

  O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

  Princess

  Any thing like?

  Rosaline

  Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

  Princess

  Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

  Katharine

  Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

  Rosaline

  ’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,

  My red dominical, my golden letter:

  O, that your face were not so full of O’s!

  Katharine

  A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.

  Princess

  But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

  Katharine

  Madam, this glove.

  Princess

  Did he not send you twain?

  Katharine

  Yes, madam, and moreover

  Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,

  A huge translation of hypocrisy,

  Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

  Maria

  This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:

  The letter is too long by half a mile.

  Princess

  I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart

  The chain were longer and the letter short?

  Maria

  Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

  Princess

  We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

  Rosaline

  They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.

  That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go:

  O that I knew he were but in by the 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 wholly to my hests

  And make him proud to make me proud that jests!

  So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state

  That he should be my fool and I his fate.

  Princess

  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 help of school

  And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.

  Rosaline

  The blood of youth burns not with such excess

  As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.

  Maria

  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.

  Princess

  Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

  Enter Boyet

  Boyet

  O, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her grace?

  Princess

  Thy news Boyet?

  Boyet

  Prepare, madam, prepare!

  Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are

  Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,

  Armed in arguments; you’ll be surprised:

  Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;

  Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

  Princess

  Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

  That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.

  Boyet

  Under the cool shade of a sycamore

  I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;

  When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,

  Toward that shade I might behold addrest

  The king and his companions: warily

  I stole into a neighbour thicket by,

  And overheard what you shall overhear,

  That, by and by, disguised 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:’

  And ever and anon they made a doubt

  Presence majestical would put him out,

  ‘For,’ 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,

  Makin
g the bold wag by their praises bolder:

  One rubb’d his elbow thus, and fleer’d and swore

  A better speech was never spoke before;

  Another, with his finger and his thumb,

  Cried, ‘Via! we will 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.

  With that, they all did tumble on the ground,

  With such a zealous laughter, so profound,

  That in this spleen ridiculous appears,

  To cheque their folly, passion’s solemn tears.

  Princess

  But what, but what, come they to visit us?

  Boyet

  They do, they do: and are apparell’d thus.

  Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.

  Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance;

  And every one his love-feat will advance

  Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know

  By favours several which they did bestow.

  Princess

  And will they so? the gallants shall be task’d;

  For, ladies, we shall every one be mask’d;

  And not a man of them shall have the grace,

  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,

  So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.

  And change your favours too; so shall your loves

  Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.

  Rosaline

  Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight.

  Katharine

  But in this changing what is your intent?

  Princess

  The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:

  They do it but in mocking merriment;

  And mock for mock is only my intent.

  Their several counsels they unbosom shall

  To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal

  Upon the next occasion that we meet,

  With visages displayed, to talk and greet.

  Rosaline

  But shall we dance, if they desire to’t?

  Princess

  No, to the death, we will not move a foot;

  Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace,

  But while ’tis spoke each turn away her face.

  Boyet

  Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,

  And quite divorce his memory from his part.

  Princess

  Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt

  The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out

  There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown,

  To make theirs ours and ours none but our own:

  So shall we stay, mocking intended game,

  And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame.

  Trumpets sound within

  Boyet

  The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come.

  The Ladies mask

  Enter Blackamoors with music; Moth; Ferdinand, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in Russian habits, and masked

  Moth

  All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—

  Boyet

  Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

  Moth

  A holy parcel of the fairest dames.

  The Ladies turn their backs to him

  That ever turn’d their — backs — to mortal views!

  Biron

  [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, villain, their eyes!

  Moth

  That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!— Out —

  Boyet

  True; out indeed.

  Moth

  Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe

  Not 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 that epithet;

  You were best call it ‘daughter-beamed eyes.’

  Moth

  They do not mark me, and that brings me out.

  Biron

  Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue!

  Exit Moth

  Rosaline

  What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:

  If they do speak our language, ’tis our will:

  That some plain man recount their purposes

  Know what they would.

  Boyet

  What would you with the princess?

  Biron

  Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

  Rosaline

  What would they, say they?

  Boyet

  Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

  Rosaline

  Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.

  Boyet

  She says, you have it, and you may be gone.

  Ferdinand

  Say to her, we have measured many miles

  To tread a measure with her on this grass.

  Boyet

  They say, that they have measured many a mile

  To tread a measure with you on this grass.

  Rosaline

  It is not so. Ask them how many inches

  Is in one mile: if they have measured many,

  The measure then of one is easily told.

  Boyet

  If to come hither you have measured miles,

  And many miles, the princess bids you tell

  How many inches doth fill up one mile.

  Biron

  Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

  Boyet

  She hears herself.

  Rosaline

  How many weary steps,

  Of many weary miles you have o’ergone,

  Are number’d in the travel of one mile?

  Biron

  We number nothing that we spend for you:

  Our duty is so rich, so infinite,

  That we may do it still without accompt.

  Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,

  That we, like savages, may worship it.

  Rosaline

  My face is but a moon, and clouded too.

  Ferdinand

  Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!

  Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,

  Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.

  Rosaline

  O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;

  Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water.

  Ferdinand

  Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.

  Thou bid’st me beg: this begging is not strange.

  Rosaline

  Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon.

  Music plays

  Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.

  Ferdinand

  Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?

  Rosaline

  You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.

  Ferdinand

  Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.

  The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

  Rosaline

  Our ears vouchsafe it.

  Ferdinand

  But your legs should do it.

  Rosaline

  Since you are strangers and come here by chance,

  We’ll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.

  Ferdinand

  Why take we hands, then?

  Rosaline

  Only to part friends:

  Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.

  Ferdinand

  More measure of this measure; be not nice.

  Rosaline<
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  We can afford no more at such a price.

  Ferdinand

  Prize you yourselves: what buys your company?

  Rosaline

  Your absence only.

  Ferdinand

  That can never be.

  Rosaline

  Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu;

  Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

  Ferdinand

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

  Rosaline

  In private, then.

  Ferdinand

  I am best pleased with that.

  They converse apart

  Biron

  White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

  Princess

  Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

  Biron

  Nay then, two treys, and 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 grievest my gall.

  Princess

  Gall! bitter.

  Biron

  Therefore meet.

  They converse apart

  Dumain

  Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

  Maria

  Name it.

  Dumain

  Fair lady,—

  Maria

  Say you so? Fair lord,—

  Take that for your fair lady.

  Dumain

  Please it you,

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

  They converse apart

  Katharine

  What, was your vizard made without a tongue?

  Longaville

  I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

  Katharine

  O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.

  Longaville

  You have a double tongue within your mask,

  And would afford my speechless vizard half.

  Katharine

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

  Longaville

  A calf, fair lady!

  Katharine

  No, a fair lord calf.

  Longaville

  Let’s part the word.

  Katharine

  No, I’ll not be your half

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

  Longaville

  Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!

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

  Katharine

  Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.

  Longaville

  One word in private with you, ere I die.

  Katharine

  Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry.

  They converse 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

 

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