That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise? Mar. Here comes Boyet.

Re-enter BOYET.

Prin.

Now, what admittance, lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he, and his competitors in oath, Were all address'd 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. Here comes Navarre.

[The Ladies mask. Enter KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BIRON, and

Attendants.

King. Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.

Prin. 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 wild fields too base to be mine.

King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither. King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath. Prin. Our lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn. King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.

King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. I hear, your grace hath sworn-out house-keeping: 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 me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit. [Gives a paper.
King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay.
Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Biron. I know you did.

How needless was it then

Ros.

To ask the question!

Biron.

You must not be so quick. Ros. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such questions.

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

Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. Biron. What time o' day?

Ros. The hour that fools should ask.
Biron. Now fair befall your mask!
Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!
Biron. And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.
Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.
King, 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,)
Receiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitain 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 Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.
Dear princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should

make

come,

Where that and other specialties are bound;
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me: at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Mean time, 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, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exeunt KING and his train. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own

heart.

Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan.

Ros. Is the fool sick?

Biron. Sick at heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?

I.

Ros. My physick says,
Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?
Ros. No poynt, with my knife.
Biron. Now, God save thy life!
Ros. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is
that same?

Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.

[Erit.

Long. I beseech you a word; What is she in the white?

Boyet. A woman sometimes, an vou saw her in the light.

Long. Perchance, light in the light: I desire her

name.

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

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. Long. God's blessing on your beard! Boyet. Good sir, be not offended: She is an heir of Falconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be. [Ert LONG.
Biron. What's her name, in the cap?
Boyet. Katharine, by good hap.

Biron. Is she wedded, or no?

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu! Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. [Erit BIRON.- Ladies unmask. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest. Boyet. And every jest but a word. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

The civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.
Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies,)
By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. Prin. 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 eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair :
Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they
were glass'd,

Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes :
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd-Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath disclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.

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

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for hei father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?
No.

Mar.
Boyet.
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet.

What then, do you see?

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 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.

are

You are too hard for me. [Exeunt.

Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Moth. By my penny of observation.

Arm. But O,—but O-
the hobby-horse is forgot.

Moth.
Arm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse?

Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almost I had.

-

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.
Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three
will prove.

Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; Would you desire more?

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat:

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.— To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose,

Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cust. True, and I for a plantain: Thus came your argument in ;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; And he ended the market.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain ! Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve?

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain

Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it:

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. There's the moral: Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy: say the moral again. Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Were still at odds, being but three: Moth. Until the goose came out of door, And stay'd the odds by adding four. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three: Arm. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.

Arm. But fell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy.

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within.
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
Cost. O, marry me to one Frances;-I smell
some l'envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; [giving him money.] for the best ward of mine honour, is, rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Erit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.. Signior Costard, adieu. Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew! [Exit MOTH. Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings · remuneration. What's the price of this inkle? a penny:- No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it. · Remuneration ! why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

―

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
On Saturday we will return to France. -
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?

For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.

Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say, no?

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
For. Yes, madam, fair.
Prin.
Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[Giving him money,
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.—
But come, the bow: - Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;

Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces.
Sole imperator, and great general

Of trotting paritors, O my little heart! —
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

[Exit.

When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty

Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord.

is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (0 base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king; Why did he come to see; Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar: The conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's: the captive is enrich'd; On whose side? the beggar's: The catastrophe is a nuptial: On whose side? The king's? no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; For tittles, titles; For thyself, me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play : But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter? What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it

erewhile.

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the prince, and his book-mates.

Thou, fellow, a word:

Prin. Who gave thee this letter? Cost. I told you; my lord. Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it? Cost. From my lord to my lady. Prin. From which lord, to which lady? Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of

mine;

To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.

Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords,

away.

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day.
[Erit PRINCESS and train.
Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?
Ros. Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Why, she that bears the bow.

Ros.
Finely put off!
Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou

marry,

Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on !

Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet.

Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: conie

near.

Finely put on, indeed!

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now?

And who is your deer?

Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin. Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; Good night my good owl. [Exeunt BOYET and MARIA. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit! When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.

Armatho o' the one side, - · O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a'
will swear!

And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
Sola, sola!

[Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD, running.