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That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise? Mar. Here comes Boyet.
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
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;
How needless was it then
To ask the question!
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.
But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,)
Although not valued to the money's worth.
Where that and other specialties are bound;
King. It shall suffice me: at which interview,
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
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?
Ros. My physick says,
Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.
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
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. 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
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:
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
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.
Arm. How mean'st thou? brawling in French? Moth. 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 eye-lids; 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 penthouselike, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed | I
Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for hei father is but grim.
Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?
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.
You are too hard for me. [Exeunt.
Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Arm. But O,—but O-
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.
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.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
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;
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!
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Of trotting paritors, O my little heart! —
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
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
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
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
To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords,
Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day.
Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.
Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: conie
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!
And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!
[Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD, running.