Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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!

  Ferdinand

  Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

  Princess

  Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.

  Exeunt Ferdinand, Lords, and Blackamoors

  Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?

  Boyet

  Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d 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 vizards, show their faces?

  This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.

  Rosaline

  O, 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

  Dumain was at my service, and his sword:

  No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

  Katharine

  Lord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart;

  And trow you what he called me?

  Princess

  Qualm, perhaps.

  Katharine

  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.

  Katharine

  And Longaville was for my service born.

  Maria

  Dumain 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 mask’d are roses in their bud;

  Dismask’d, 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 penn’d

  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 o’er land.

  Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria

  Re-enter Ferdinand, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits

  Ferdinand

  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?

  Ferdinand

  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 pease,

  And utters it again when God doth please:

  He is wit’s pedler, 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 kiss’d his hand away in courtesy;

  This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,

  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 every one,

  To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone;

  And consciences, that will not die in debt,

  Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

  Ferdinand

  A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,

  That put Armado’s page out of his part!

  Biron

  See where it comes! Behavior, what wert thou

  Till this madman show’d thee? and what art thou now?

  Re-enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet, Rosaline, Maria, and Katharine

  Ferdinand

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

  Princess

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

  Ferdinand

  Construe my speeches better, if you may.

  Princess

  Then wish me better; I will give you leave.

  Ferdinand

  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.

  Ferdinand

  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, vow’d with integrity.

  Ferdinand

  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.

  Ferdinand

  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 stay’d an hour,

  And talk’d 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. Fair gentle sweet,

  Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,

  With eyes best seeing, heaven’s fiery eye,
<
br />   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 vizards was it that you wore?

  Biron

  Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?

  Rosaline

  There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case

  That hid the worse and show’d the better face.

  Ferdinand

  We are descried; they’ll mock us now downright.

  Dumain

  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?

  Sea-sick, 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 never more to dance,

  Nor never more in Russian habit wait.

  O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d,

  Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue,

  Nor never come in vizard 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 express’d

  In russet yeas and honest kersey noes:

  And, to begin, wench,— so God help me, la!—

  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

  Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.

  Ferdinand

  Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression

  Some fair excuse.

  Princess

  The fairest is confession.

  Were not you here but even now disguised?

  Ferdinand

  Madam, I was.

  Princess

  And were you well advised?

  Ferdinand

  I was, fair madam.

  Princess

  When you then were here,

  What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?

  Ferdinand

  That more than all the world I did respect her.

  Princess

  When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

  Ferdinand

  Upon mine honour, no.

  Princess

  Peace, peace! forbear:

  Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

  Ferdinand

  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 unhold his word.

  Ferdinand

  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.

  Ferdinand

  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.

  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, woo’d but the sign of she.

  Now, to our perjury to add more terror,

  We are again forsworn, in will and error.

  Much upon this it is: and might not you

  To Boyet

  Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?

  Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,

  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 allow’d;

  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 manage, this career, been run.

  Biron

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

  Enter Costard

  Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.

  Costard

  O Lord, sir, they would know

  Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

  Biron

  What, are there but three?

  Costard

  No, sir; but it is vara fine,

  For every one pursents three.

  Biron

  And three times thrice is nine.

  Costard

  Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir we know what we know: I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—

  Biron

  Is not nine.

  Costard

  Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth am
ount.

  Biron

  By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

  Costard

  O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

  Biron

  How much is it?

  Costard

  O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

  Biron

  Art thou one of the Worthies?

  Costard

  It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

  Biron

  Go, bid them prepare.

  Costard

  We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.

  Exit

  Ferdinand

  Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.

  Biron

  We are shame-proof, my lord: and tis some policy

  To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.

  Ferdinand

  I say they shall not come.

  Princess

  Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:

  That sport best pleases that doth least know how:

  Where zeal strives to content, and the contents

  Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:

  Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,

  When great things labouring perish in their birth.

  Biron

  A right description of our sport, my lord.

  Enter Don Adriano De Armado

  Don Adriano de Armado

  Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

  Converses apart with Ferdinand, and delivers him a paper

  Princess

  Doth this man serve God?

  Biron

  Why ask you?

  Princess

  He speaks not like a man of God’s making.

  Don Adriano de Armado

  That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

  Exit

  Ferdinand

  Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus:

  And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

  These four will change habits, and present the other five.

  Biron

  There is five in the first show.

  Ferdinand

  You are deceived; ’tis not so.

  Biron

  The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:—

  Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again

  Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

  Ferdinand

  The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

  Enter Costard, for Pompey