Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 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 making 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 making four. A good l'envoy. Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then call'd you for the l'envoy. Cost. 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. Enter BIRON. Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? Biron. What is a remuneration? Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing. [Showing it. Cost. When would you have it done, sir? Cost. Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well. The princess comes to hunt here in the park, Cost. Guerdon.-O, sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better. Most sweet guerdon!—I will do it, sir, in print.—Guerdon [Exit. Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken-remuneration! 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, marry, 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 be loose. : Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee free from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this bear this significant [Giving a letter.] to the country maid Jaquenetta. There is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adieu. [Exit. Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew! 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. Biron. O! And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; A very beadle to a humorous sigh; ACT IV. SCENE I.-Another part of the Same. Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he. This letter is mistook; it importeth none here: Prin. Boyet. [Reads.] "By heaven, that thou art fair, 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 Penelophon; 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? For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. For. Yes, madam, fair. [Giving him money. A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.- And shooting well is then accounted ill. Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Prin. Only for praise; and praise we may afford Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth. Cost. God dig-you-den all. Pray you, which is the head lady? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest? Cost. The thickest, and the tallest? it is so; truth An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine. overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion is victory: '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? Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? Ros. Why, she that bears the bow. Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but if thou marry, Ros. Boyet. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it, my good man. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can. [Exeunt Ros. and KATH. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it! Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it. Boyet. A mark! O! mark but that mark: a mark, says my lady. Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be. Mar. Wide o' the bow hand: i'faith, your hand is out. Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout. Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in. Cost. 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. Armado o' the one side,-O, a most dainty man! Looking babies in her eyes, his passion to declare. [Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD. SCENE II.-The Same. Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience. Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis,-in blood; ripe as the pome water, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cœlo,-the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth. Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. The allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. 'Tis true indeed: the collusion holds in the exchange. Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange, for the moon is never but a month old; and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess kill'd, a pricket. Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. Hol. I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility. [Reads. The preyful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket; Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell; put l to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket; Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting. If sore be sore, then I to sore makes fifty sores; O sore l! Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more l. Nath. A rare talent! Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent. [Aside. Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it. Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth. Hol. Mehercle! if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them; but, vir sapit, qui pauca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth us. Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTard. Jaq. God give you good morrow, master person. Hol. Master person,-quasi pers-on. An if one should be pierced, which is the one? Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead. Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well. Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me this letter it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it. Hol. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbrá Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice: -Venegia, Venegia, Chi non te vede, non te pregia. Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.-Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Horace says in his-What, my soul, verses? Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse: lege, domine. Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend: If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice. All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder; Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitating is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the trained horse his rider. But damosella, virgin, was this directed to you? Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords. I Hol. I will overglance the superscript. "To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline." I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: "Your ladyship's, in all desired employment, Biron." Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.-Trip and go, my sweet: deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty adieu. Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.-Sir, God save your life! Cost. Have with thee, my girl. : [Exeunt CosT. and JAQ. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses: did they please you, sir Nathaniel? Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where, if before repast it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society. Nath. And thank you too; for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life. Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, [To DULL,] I do invite you too: you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Another part of the Same. Enter BIRON, with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; am toiling in a pitch-pitch that defiles. Defile? a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep. Well proved again o' my side! I will not love; if I do, hang me: i'faith, I will not. O! but her eye,-by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her! yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper: God give him grace to groan! [Gets up into a tree. Enter the KING, with a paper. King. Ay me! King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not Through the transparent bosom of the deep, K As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; And they thy glory through my grief will show : What, Longaville! and reading? listen, ear. [Steps aside. Biron. [Aside in the tree.] Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear! Long. Ay me! I am forsworn. Biron. [Aside.] Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. King. [Aside.] In love, I hope. Sweet fellowship Disfigure not his slop. Long. This same shall go. [He reads the sonnet. Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: If broken, then, it is no fault of mine. Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity; A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. the way. Enter DUMAINE, with a paper. Long. By whom shall I send this?-Company! stay. [Steps aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid; an old infant play. Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, Biron. [Aside.] O most profane coxcomb! Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber quoted. a good word? Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Biron. [Aside.] A fever in your blood? why, then incision Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision! Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. Biron. [Aside.] Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. Dum. On a day, alack the day! Love, whose month is ever May, That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom great Jove would swear This will I send, and something else more plain, Long. [Advancing.] Dumaine, thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desir'st society: King. [Advancing.] Come, sir, blush you: as his your case is such; You chide at him, offending twice as much: |