William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition

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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.

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 amount.

BIRON By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

COSTARD O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reck’ning, 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 Pompey 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

KING

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.

KING 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,

There 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 Armado the braggart

ARMADO (to the King) Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

⌈Armado and the King speak apart⌉

PRINCESS Doth this man serve God?

BIRON Why ask you?

PRINCESS

A speaks not like a man of God his making.

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

KING 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 Maccabeus, 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.

KING

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.

KING

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

Enter Costard the clown as Pompey

COSTARD (as Pompey)

I Pompey am—

BIRON You lie, you are not he.

COSTARD (as Pompey)

I Pompey am—

BOYET With leopard’s head on knee.

BIRON

Well said, old mocker. I must needs be friends with thee.

COSTARD (as Pompey)

I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big.

DUMAINE ‘The Great’.

COSTARD It is ‘Great’, sir—

(As Pompey) Pompey surnamed the Great,

That oft in field with targe and shield did make my

foe to sweat,

And travelling along this coast I here am come by

chance,

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of

France.—

If your ladyship would say ‘Thanks, Pompey’, I had

done.

⌈PRTNCESS⌉ Great thanks, great Pompey.

COSTARD ‘Tis not so much worth, but I hope I was perfect.

I made a little fault in ‘great’.

BIRON My hat to a halfpenny Pompey proves the best

Worthy.

Costard stands aside.

Enter Nathaniel the curate as Alexander

NATHANIEL (as Alexander)

When in the world I lived I was the world’s commander.

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might.

My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander.

BOYET

Your nose says no, you are not, for it stands too right.

BIRON (to Boyet)

Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.

PRINCESS

The conqueror is dismayed. Proceed, good Alexander.

NATHANIEL (as Alexander)

When in the world I lived I was the world’s commander.

BOYET

Most true, ’tis right, you were so, Alisander.

BIRON (to Costard) Pompey the Great.

COSTARD Your servant, and Costard.

BIRON Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

COSTARD (to Nathaniel) O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander the Conqueror. You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion that holds his poleaxe sitting on a close-stool will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror and afeard to speak? Run away for shame, Alisander.

⌈Exit Nathaniel the curate⌉

There, an’t shall please you, a foolish mild man, an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler, but for Alisander—alas, you see how ‘tis—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

PRINCESS Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes the pedant as Judas, and the boy Mote as Hercules

HOLOFERNES

Great Hercules is presented by this imp,

Whose club killed Cerberus, that three-headed

canus,

And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.

Quoniam he seemeth in minority,

Ergo I come with this apology.

(To Mote) Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Mote

HOLOFERNES (as Judas)

Judas I am—

DUMAINE A Judas?

HOLOFERNES Not Iscariot, sir.

(As Judas) Judas I am, yclept Maccabeus.

DUMAINE Judas Maccabeus clipped is plain Judas.

BIRON A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas ?

HOLOFERNES (as Judas)

Judas I am—

DUMAINE The more shame for you, Judas.

HOLOFERNES What mean you, sir?

BOYET To make Judas hang himself.

HOLOFERNES Begin, sir. You are my elder.

BIRON Well followed—Judas was hanged on an elder.

HOLOFERNES I will not be put out of countenance. 601

BIRON Because thou hast no face.

HOLOFERNES What is this?

BOYET A cittern-head.

DUMAINE The head of a bodkin.

BIRON A death’s face in a ring.

LONGUEVILLE The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

BOYET The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.

DUMAINE The carved-bone face on a flask.

BIRON Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.

DUMAINE Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

BIRON Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance.

HOLOFERNES You have put me out of countenance.

BIRON False, we have given thee faces.

HOLOFERNES But you have outfaced them all.

BIRON

An thou wert a lion, we would do so.

BOYET

Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.

And so adieu, sweet Jude. Nay, why dost thou stay?

DUMAINE For the latter end of his name.

BIRON

For the ass to the Jude. Give it him. Jud-as, away.

HOLOFERNES

This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

BOYET

A light for Monsieur Judas. It grows dark, he may stumble.

Exit Holofernes

PRINCESS Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been baited !

Enter Armado the braggart as Hector

BIRON Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in arms.

DUMAINE Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

KING Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.

BOYET But is this Hector?

KING I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.

LONGUEVILLE His leg is too big for Hector’s.

DUMAINE More calf, certain.

BOYET No, he is best endowed in the small.

BIRON This cannot be Hector.

DUMAINE He’s a god, or a painter, for he makes faces.

ARMADO (as Hector)

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift—

DUMAINE A gilt nutmeg.

BIRON A lemon.

LONGUEVILLE Stuck with cloves.

DUMAINE NO, cloven.

ARMADO Peace I

(As Hector) The armipotent Mars, of lances the

almighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion,

A man so breathed that certain he would fight, yea,

From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

I am that flower—

DUMAINE

That mint.

LONGUEVILLE

That colombine.

ARMADO Sweet Lord Longueville, rein thy tongue.

LONGUEVILLE I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

DUMAINE Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.

ARMADO The sweet war-man is dead and rotten. Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried. When he breathed he was a man. But I will forward with my device. (To the Princess) Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Biron steps forth

PRINCESS

Speak, brave Hector, we are much delighted.

ARMADO I do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.

BOYET Loves her by the foot.

DUMAINE He may not by the yard.

ARMADO (as Hector)

This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.

⌈ ⌉

ARMADO The party is gone.

COSTARD Fellow Hector, she is gone, she is two months on her way.

ARMADO What meanest thou?

COSTARD Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan the poor wench is cast away. She’s quick. The child brags in her belly already. ’Tis yours.

ARMADO Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.

COSTARD Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him. 675

DUMAINE Most rare Pompey!

BOYET Renowned Pompey!

BIRON Greater than great—great, great, great Pompey, Pompey the Huge.

DUMAINE Hector trembles.

BIRON Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates—stir them on, stir them on!

DUMAINE Hector will challenge him.

BIRON Ay, if a have no more man’s blood in his belly than will sup a flea.

ARMADO By the North Pole, I do challenge thee.

COSTARD I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man. I’ll slash, I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again.

DUMAINE Room for the incensed Worthies.

COSTARD I’ll do it in my shirt.

DUMAINE Most resolute Pompey.

MOTE (aside to Armado) Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose your reputation.

ARMADO Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me. I will not combat in my shirt.

DUMAINE You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.

ARMADO Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

BIRON What reason have you for’t?

ARMADO The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance.

⌈MOTE⌉ True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen, since when I’ll be sworn he wore none but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta’s, and that a wears next his heart, for a favour.

Enter a messenger, Monsieur Mercadé

MERCADÉ

God save you, madam.

PRINCESS Welcome, Mercadé,

But that thou interrupt’st our merriment.

MERCADÉ

I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring

Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father—

PRINCESS

Dead, for my life.

MERCADÉ Even so. My tale is told.

BIRON

Worthies, away. The scene begins to cloud.

ARMADO For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.

Exeunt the Worthies

KING How fares your majesty ?

QUEEN

Boyet, prepare. I will away tonight.

KING

Madam, not so, I do beseech you stay.

QUEEN

Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,

For all your fair endeavours, and entreat,

Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe

In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide

The liberal opposition of our spirits.

If overboldly we have borne ourselves

In the converse of breath, your gentleness

Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord.

A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.

Excuse me so coming too short of thanks,

For my great suit so easily obtained.

KING

The extreme parts of time extremely forms

All causes to the purpose of his speed,

And often at his very loose decides

That which long process could not arbitrate.

And though the mourning brow of progeny

Forbid the smiling courtesy of love

The holy suit which fain it would convince,

Yet since love’s argument was first on foot,

Let not the cloud of sorrow jostle it

From what it purposed, since to wail friends lost

Is not by much so wholesome-profitable

As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

QUEEN

I understand you not. My griefs are double.

BIRON

Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief,

And by these badges understand the King.

For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Played foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies,

Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours

Even to the opposed end of our intents,

And what in us hath seemed ridiculous—

As love is full of unbefitting strains,

All wanton as a child, skipping and vain,

Formed by the eye and therefore like the eye,

Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,

Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll

To every varied object in his glance;

Which parti-coated presence of loose love

Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes

Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,

Those heavenly eyes that look into these faults

Suggested us to make them. Therefore, ladies,

Our love being yours, the error that love makes

Is likewise yours. We to ourselves prove false

By being once false for ever to be true

To those that make us both—fair ladies, you.

And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,

Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.

QUEEN

We have received your letters full of love,

Your favours the ambassadors of love,

And in our maiden council rated them

At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,

As bombast and as lining to the time.

But more devout than this in our respects

Have we not been, and therefore met your loves

In their own fashion, like a merriment.

DUMAINE

Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest.

LONGUEVILLE

So did our looks.

ROSALINE

We did not quote them so.

KING

Now, at the latest minute of the hour,

Grant us your loves.

QUEEN A time, methinks, too short

To make a world-without-end bargain in.

No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,

Full of dear guiltiness, and therefore this:

If for my love—as there is no such cause—

You will do aught, this shall you do for me:

Your oath I will not trust, but go with speed

To some forlorn and naked hermitage

Remote from all the pleasures of the world.

There stay until the twelve celestial signs

Have brought about the annual reckoning.

If this austere, insociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;

If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds

Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,

But that it bear this trial and last love,

Then at the expiration of the year

Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,

And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,

I will be thine, and till that instance shut

My woeful self up in a mourning house,

Raining the tears of lamentation

For the remembrance of my father’s death.

If this thou do deny, let our hands part,

Neither entitled in the other’s heart.

KING

If this, or more than this, I would deny,

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest

The sudden hand of death close up mine eye.

Hence, hermit, then. My heart is in thy breast.

They talk apart

DUMAINE (to Catherine)

But what to me, my love? But what to me?

A wife?

CATHERINE A beard, fair health, and honesty.

With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

DUMAINE

O, shall I say ‘I thank you, gentle wife’?

CATHERINE

Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day

I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say.

Come when the King doth to my lady come;

Then if I have much love, I’ll give you some.

DUMAINE

I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.

CATHERINE

Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.

They talk apart

LONGUEVILLE

What says Maria?

MARIA At the twelvemonth’s end

I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

LONGUEVILLE

I’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.

MARIA

The liker you—few taller are so young.

They talk apart

BIRON (to Rosaline)

Studies my lady? Mistress, look on me.

Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,

What humble suit attends thy answer there.

Impose some service on me for thy love.

ROSALINE

Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,

Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue

Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,

Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,

Which you on all estates will execute

That lie within the mercy of your wit.

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,

And therewithal to win me if you please,

Without the which I am not to be won,

You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day

Visit the speechless sick and still converse

With groaning wretches, and your task shall be

With all the fierce endeavour of your wit

To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

BIRON

To move wild laughter in the throat of death?—

It cannot be, it is impossible.

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

ROSALINE

Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit,

Whose influence is begot of that loose grace

Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools.

A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue

Of him that makes it. Then if sickly ears,

Deafed with the clamours of their own dear groans,

Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,

And I will have you and that fault withal.

But if they will not, throw away that spirit,

And I shall find you empty of that fault,

Right joyful of your reformation.

BIRON

A twelvemonth? Well, befall what will befall,

I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

QUEEN (to the King)

Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave.

KING

No, madam, we will bring you on your way.

BIRON

Our wooing doth not end like an old play.

Jack hath not Jill. These ladies’ courtesy

Might well have made our sport a comedy.

KING

Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth an’ a day,

And then ’twill end.

BIRON

That’s too long for a play.

Enter Armado the braggart

ARMADO (to the King) Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me.

QUEEN Was not that Hector?

DUMAINE The worthy knight of Troy.

ARMADO

I will kiss thy royal finger and take leave.

I am a votary, I have vowed to Jaquenetta

To hold the plough for her sweet love three year.

But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the

dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in

praise of the owl and the cuckoo ? It should have

followed in the end of our show.

KING Call them forth quickly, we will do so.

ARMADO

Holla, approach!

Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Costard, Mote, Dull, Jaquenetta, and others

This side is Hiems, winter,

This Ver, the spring, the one maintained by the owl,

The other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.

SPRING (sings)

When daisies pied and violets blue,

And lady-smocks, all silver-white,

And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue

Do paint the meadows with delight,

The cuckoo then on every tree

Mocks married men, for thus sings he:

Cuckoo!

Cuckoo, cuckoo—O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear.

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks;

When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,

And maidens bleach their summer smocks,

The cuckoo then on every tree

Mocks married men, for thus sings he:

Cuckoo!

Cuckoo, cuckoo—O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear.

WINTER (sings)

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;

When blood is nipped, and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl:

Tu-whit, tu-whoo!—a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,

And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian’s nose looks red and raw;

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl:

Tu-whit, tu-whoo!—a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

⌈ARMADO⌉ The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way, we this way. Exeunt, severally

ADDITIONAL PASSAGES

A. The following lines found after 4.3.293 in the First Quarto represent an unrevised version of parts of Biron’s long speech, 4.3.287-341. The first six lines form the basis of 4.3.294-9; the next three are revised at 4.3.326– 30; the next four at 4.3.300-2; the last nine are less directly related to the revised version.

And where that you have vowed to study, lords,

In that each of you have forsworn his book,

Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look?

For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,

Have found the ground of study’s excellence

Without the beauty of a woman’s face?

From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive.

They are the ground, the books, the academes,

From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.

Why, universal plodding poisons up

The nimble spirits in the arteries,

As motion and long-during action tires