Love’s Labour’s Lost by William Shakespeare

*** Scanner’s Notes: What this is and isn’t. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text. The elongated S’s have been changed to small s’s and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the
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  • ca. 1595
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Scanner’s Notes: What this is and isn’t. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S’s have been changed to small s’s and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare’s First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo’s and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don’t like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer’s habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn’t thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions’ best pages.

If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best etext possible. My email address for right now are and I hope that you enjoy this.

David Reed

Loues Labour’s lost

Actus primus.

Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and Dumane.

Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues, Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes,
And then grace vs in the disgrace of death: when spight of cormorant deuouring Time, Th’ endeuour of this present breath may buy: That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge, And make vs heyres of all eternitie.
Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are, That warre against your owne affections, And the huge Armie of the worlds desires. Our late edict shall strongly stand in force, Nauar shall be the wonder of the world.
Our Court shall be a little Achademe, Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill, Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me: My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes That are recorded in this scedule heere. Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names: That his owne hand may strike his honour downe, That violates the smallest branch heerein: If you are arm’d to doe, as sworne to do, Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to

Longauill. I am resolu’d, ’tis but a three yeeres fast: The minde shall banquet, though the body pine, Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits, Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits

Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified, The grosser manner of these worlds delights, He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues: To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die, With all these liuing in Philosophie

Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer, So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne, That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres. But there are other strict obseruances:
As not to see a woman in that terme, Which I hope well is not enrolled there. And one day in a weeke to touch no foode: And but one meale on euery day beside:
The which I hope is not enrolled there. And then to sleepe but three houres in the night, And not be seene to winke of all the day. When I was wont to thinke no harme all night, And make a darke night too of halfe the day: Which I hope well is not enrolled there. O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe, Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe

Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these

Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please, I onely swore to study with your grace,
And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space

Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest

Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest. What is the end of study, let me know?
Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not know

Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense

Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence

Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so, To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus, to study where I well may dine, When I to fast expressely am forbid.
Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine, When Mistresses from common sense are hid. Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath, Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth. If studies gaine be thus, and this be so, Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know, Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no

Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite, And traine our intellects to vaine delight

Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine Which with paine purchas’d, doth inherit paine, As painefully to poare vpon a Booke,
To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke: Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile: So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies, Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes. Studie me how to please the eye indeede, By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,
Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed, And giue him light that it was blinded by. Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne, That will not be deepe search’d with sawcy lookes: Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne, Saue base authoritie from others Bookes. These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights, That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,
Haue no more profit of their shining nights, Then those that walke and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame: And euery Godfather can giue a name

Fer. How well hee’s read, to reason against reading

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding

Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the weeding

Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a breeding

Dum. How followes that?
Ber. Fit in his place and time

Dum. In reason nothing

Ber. Something then in rime

Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost, That bites the first borne infants of the Spring

Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast, Before the Birds haue any cause to sing? Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose, Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes: But like of each thing that in season growes. So you to studie now it is too late,
That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate

Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue

Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you. And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more, Then for that Angell knowledge you can say, Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne, And bide the pennance of each three yeares day. Giue me the paper, let me reade the same, And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name

Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame

Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile of my Court.
Hath this bin proclaimed?
Lon. Foure dayes agoe

Ber. Let’s see the penaltie.
On paine of loosing her tongue.
Who deuis’d this penaltie?
Lon. Marry that did I

Ber. Sweete Lord, and why?
Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie, A dangerous law against gentilitie.
Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within the tearme of three yeares, hee shall indure such publique shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly deuise

Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake, For well you know here comes in Embassie The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake: A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie, About surrender vp of Aquitaine:
To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father. Therefore this Article is made in vaine, Or vainly comes th’ admired Princesse hither

Fer. What say you Lords?
Why, this was quite forgot

Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot, While it doth study to haue what it would, It doth forget to doe the thing it should: And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, ‘Tis won as townes with fire, so won, so lost

Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree, She must lye here on meere necessitie

Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne Three thousand times within this three yeeres space: For euery man with his affects is borne, Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace. If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me, I am forsworne on meere necessitie.
So to the Lawes at large I write my name, And he that breakes them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternall shame.
Suggestions are to others as to me: But I beleeue although I seeme so loth,
I am the last that will last keepe his oth. But is there no quicke recreation granted? Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted With a refined trauailer of Spaine,
A man in all the worlds new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his braine: One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue, Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:
A man of complements whom right and wrong Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie.
This childe of fancie that Armado hight, For interim to our studies shall relate, In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight: From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate. How you delight my Lords, I know not I,
But I protest I loue to heare him lie, And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie

Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight

Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport, And so to studie, three yeeres is but short. Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.

Const. Which is the Dukes owne person

Ber. This fellow, What would’st?
Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person in flesh and blood

Ber. This is he

Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you: Ther’s villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more

Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching mee

Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado

Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for high words

Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience

Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing

Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbeare both

Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to clime in the merrinesse

Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner

Ber. In what manner?
Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three. I was seene with her in the Mannor house, sitting with her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner of a man to speake to a woman, for the forme in some forme

Ber. For the following sir

Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right

Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention? Ber. As we would heare an Oracle

Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the flesh

Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole dominator
of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring patrone:
Cost. Not a word of Costard yet

Ferd. So it is

Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true: but so

Ferd. Peace,
Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight

Ferd. No words,
Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you

Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I did commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most wholesome
Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When beasts most grase, birds best pecke, and men sit downe to that nourishment which is called supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest: suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east and by East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth,
Clown. Mee?
Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule, Clow Me?
Ferd. that shallow
Clow. Still mee?)
Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard, Clow. O me)
Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaymed Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith: Clo. With a Wench

Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my euer esteemed dutie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue the meed of punishment by the sweet Graces Officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation

Anth. Me, an’t shall please you? I am Anthony Dull

Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her as a vessell of thy Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie. Don Adriana de Armado

Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that euer I heard

Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you to this?
Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench

Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation? Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it

Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee taken with a Wench

Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a Damosell

Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell

Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a Virgin

Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin

Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken with a Maide

Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir

Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir

Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall fast a Weeke with Branne and water

Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and Porridge

Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer’d ore,
And goe we Lords to put in practice that, Which each to other hath so strongly sworne

Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat, These oathes and lawes will proue an idle scorne. Sirra, come on

Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and therefore welcome the sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction may one day smile againe, and vntill then sit downe sorrow.

Enter Armado and Moth his Page.

Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great spirit growes melancholy?
Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad

Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing deare impe

Boy. No no, O Lord sir no

Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy my tender Iuuenall?
Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signeur

Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur? Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall? Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a congruent apathaton, appertaining to thy young daies, which we may nominate tender

Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to your olde time, which we may name tough

Brag. Pretty and apt

Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying prettie?
Brag. Thou pretty because little

Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt? Brag. And therefore apt, because quicke

Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master? Brag. In thy condigne praise

Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise

Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous

Boy. That an Eele is quicke

Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou heat’st my bloud

Boy. I am answer’d sir

Brag. I loue not to be crost

Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him

Br. I haue promis’d to study iij. yeres with the Duke

Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir

Brag. Impossible

Boy. How many is one thrice told?
Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster

Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir

Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a compleat man

Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse summe of deus-ace amounts to

Brag. It doth amount to one more then two

Boy. Which the base vulgar call three

Br. True

Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study? Now here’s three studied, ere you’ll thrice wink, & how easie it is to put yeres to the word three, and study three yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you

Brag. A most fine Figure

Boy. To proue you a Cypher

Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome him to any French Courtier for a new deuis’d curtsie. I thinke scorne to sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene in loue?
Boy. Hercules Master

Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage

Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter: and he was in loue

Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson; I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons loue my deare Moth?
Boy. A Woman, Master

Brag. Of what complexion?
Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of the foure

Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion? Boy. Of the sea-water Greene sir

Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions? Boy. As I haue read sir, and the best of them too

Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to haue a Loue of that colour, methinkes Sampson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit

Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit

Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red

Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask’d vnder such colours

Brag. Define, define, well educated infant

Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist mee

Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and patheticall

Boy. If shee be made of white and red, Her faults will nere be knowne:
For blushin cheekes by faults are bred, And feares by pale white showne:
Then if she feare, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheekes possesse the same, Which natiue she doth owe:
A dangerous rime master against the reason of white and redde

Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Begger?
Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some three ages since, but I thinke now ’tis not to be found: or if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the tune

Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she deserues well

Boy. To bee whip’d: and yet a better loue then my Master

Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue

Boy. And that’s great maruell, louing a light wench

Brag. I say sing

Boy. Forbeare till this company be past. Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.

Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance, but hee must fast three daies a weeke: for this Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke, shee is alowd for the Day-woman. Fare you well.

Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide

Maid. Man

Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge

Maid. That’s here by

Brag. I know where it is situate

Mai. Lord how wise you are!
Brag. I will tell thee wonders

Ma. With what face?
Brag. I loue thee

Mai. So I heard you say

Brag. And so farewell

Mai. Faire weather after you

Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.


Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned

Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a full stomacke

Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished

Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they are but lightly rewarded

Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp

Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away

Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being loose

Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison

Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation that I haue seene, some shall see

Boy. What shall some see?
Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they looke vpon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet.

Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base) where her shooe (which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a familiar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but Loue, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and hee had a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue my turne: the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, bee still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth. Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.


Finis Actus Primus.

Actus Secunda.

Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and three

Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits, Consider who the King your father sends: To whom he sends, and what’s his Embassie. Your selfe, held precious in the worlds esteeme, To parlee with the sole inheritour
Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene,
Be now as prodigall of all deare grace, As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When she did starue the generall world beside, And prodigally gaue them all to you

Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye, Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues: I am lesse proud to heare you tell my worth, Then you much willing to be counted wise, In spending your wit in the praise of mine. But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet

Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow, Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares, No woman may approach his silent Court:
Therefore to’s seemeth it a needfull course, Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe Bold of your worthinesse, we single you, As our best mouing faire soliciter:
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, On serious businesse crauing quicke dispatch, Importunes personall conference with his grace. Haste, signifie so much while we attend, Like humble visag’d suters his high will

Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe. Enter.

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so: Who are the Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes with this vertuous Duke?
Lor. Longauill is one

Princ. Know you the man?
1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast, Betweene L[ord]. Perigort and the beautious heire Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
In Normandie saw I this Longauill,
A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem’d: Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The onely soyle of his faire vertues glosse, If vertues glosse will staine with any soile, Is a sharp wit match’d with too blunt a Will: Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wills, It should none spare that come within his power

Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so? Lad.1. They say so most, that most his humors know

Prin. such short liu’d wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?
2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth, Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued. Most power to doe most harme, least knowing ill: For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace though she had no wit. I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once,
And much too little of that good I saw, Is my report to his great worthinesse

Rossa. Another of these Students at that time, Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth. Berowne they call him, but a merrier man, Within the limit of becomming mirth,
I neuer spent an houres talke withall. His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For euery obiect that the one doth catch, The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest. Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor) Deliuers in such apt and gracious words, That aged eares play treuant at his tales, And yonger hearings are quite rauished.
So sweet and voluble is his discourse

Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue? That euery one her owne hath garnished,
With such bedecking ornaments of praise

Ma. Heere comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.

Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?
Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach; And he and his competitors in oath,
Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt, He rather meanes to lodge you in the field, Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court, Then seeke a dispensation for his oath:
To let you enter his vnpeopled house. Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.

Heere comes Nauar

Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar

Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine

Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court

Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither

Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath

Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he’ll be forsworne

Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will

Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els

Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is

Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance. I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping: ‘Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord, And sinne to breake it:
But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold, To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming, And sodainly resolue me in my suite

Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may

Prin. You will the sooner that I were away, For you’ll proue periur’d if you make me stay

Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Ber. I know you did

Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question? Ber. You must not be so quicke

Rosa. ‘Tis long of you y spur me with such questions

Ber. Your wit’s too hot, it speeds too fast, ’twill tire

Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire

Ber. What time a day?
Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske

Ber. Now faire befall your maske

Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers

Ber. And send you many louers

Rosa. Amen, so you be none

Ber. Nay then will I be gone

Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate, The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, Being but th’ one halfe, of an intire summe, Disbursed by my father in his warres.
But say that he, or we, as neither haue Receiu’d that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
Although not valued to the moneys worth. If then the King your father will restore But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied, We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie: But that it seemes he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to haue repaie, An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.
Which we much rather had depart withall, And haue the money by our father lent,
Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is. Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make A yeelding ‘gainst some reason in my brest, And goe well satisfied to France againe

Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so vnseeming to confesse receyt
Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid

Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it, And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe, Or yeeld vp Aquitaine

Prin. We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a summe, from speciall Officers, Of Charles his Father

Kin. Satisfie me so

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound, To morrow you shall haue a sight of them

Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview, All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto:
Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand, As honour, without breach of Honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse. You may not come faire Princesse in my gates, But heere without you shall be so receiu’d, As you shall deeme your selfe lodg’d in my heart, Though so deni’d farther harbour in my house: Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell, To morrow we shall visit you againe

Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace

Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place. Enter.

Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart

La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations, I would be glad to see it

Boy. I would you heard it grone

La.Ro. Is the soule sicke?
Boy. Sicke at the heart

La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud

Boy. Would that doe it good?
La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I

Boy. Will you prick’t with your eye

La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife

Boy. Now God saue thy life

La.Ro. And yours from long liuing

Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.

Enter Dumane.

Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same? Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name

Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well

Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white? Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light

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

Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe, To desire that were a shame

Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter? Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard

Long. Gods blessing a your beard

Boy. Good sir be not offended,
Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge

Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
Shee is a most sweet Lady.

Exit. Long.

Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be.
Enter Beroune.

Ber. What’s her name in the cap

Boy. Katherine by good hap

Ber. Is she wedded, or no

Boy. To her will sir, or so,
Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew

Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you. Enter.

La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord. Not a word with him, but a iest

Boy. And euery iest but a word

Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word

Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord

La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:
And wherefore not Ships?
Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips

La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest? Boy. So you grant pasture for me

La. Not so gentle beast.
My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be

Bo. Belonging to whom?
La. To my fortunes and me

Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree. This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere ’tis abus’d

Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes) Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected

Prin. With what?
Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected

Prin. Your reason

Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire, To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire. His hart like an Agot with your print impressed, Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed. His tongue all impatient to speake and not see, Did stumble with haste in his eie-sight to be, All sences to that sence did make their repaire, To feele onely looking on fairest of faire: Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye, As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy. Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glast, Did point out to buy them along as you past. His faces owne margent did coate such amazes, That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes. Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his, And you giue him for my sake, but one louing Kisse

Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde

Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos’d. I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie

Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest skilfully

Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news of him

Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim

Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches?
La.1. No

Boy. What then, do you see?
Lad.2. I, our way to be gone

Boy. You are too hard for me.

Exeunt. omnes.

Actus Tertius.

Enter Braggart and Boy.


Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing

Boy. Concolinel

Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my Loue

Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule? Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French? Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these?
Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience? Boy. By my penne of obseruation

Brag. But O, but O

Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot

Bra. Cal’st thou my loue Hobbi-horse

Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie:
but haue you forgot your Loue?
Brag. Almost I had

Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart

Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy

Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will proue

Brag. What wilt thou proue?
Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her, being out of heart that you cannot enioy her

Brag. I am all these three

Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all

Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a letter

Boy. A message well simpathis’d, a Horse to be embassadour for an Asse

Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou?
Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse for he is verie slow gated: but I goe

Brag. The way is but short, away

Boy. As swift as Lead sir

Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a mettall heauie, dull, and slow?
Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no

Brag. I say Lead is slow

Boy. You are too swift sir to say so. Is that Lead slow which is fir’d from a Gunne? Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike,
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that’s he: I shoote thee at the Swaine

Boy. Thump then, and I flee

Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace, By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place. My Herald is return’d.
Enter Page and Clowne.

Pag. A wonder Master, here’s a Costard broken in a shin

Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy begin

Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan

Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes me to rediculous smyling: O pardon me my stars, doth the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy for a salue?
Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a salue?
Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine, Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine. Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with my lenuoy.
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee, Were still at oddes, being but three

Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore, Staying the oddes by adding foure

Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you desire more?
Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that’s flat. Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that’s a fat Goose

Ar. Come hither, come hither:
How did this argument begin?
Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then cal’d you for the Lenuoy

Clow. True, and I for a Plantan:
Thus came your argument in:
Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought, And he ended the market

Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in a shin?
Pag. I will tell you sencibly

Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth, I will speake that Lenuoy.
I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin

Arm. We will talke no more of this matter

Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin

Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee

Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goose in this

Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained, captiuated, bound

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

Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta: there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow

Pag. Like the sequell I.
Signeur Costard adew.

Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration. Remuneration, O, that’s the Latine word for three-farthings: Three-farthings remuneration, What’s the price of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why? It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this word.
Enter Berowne.

Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met

Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?
Ber. What is a remuneration?
Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing

Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke

Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you

Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue, Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate

Clow. When would you haue it done sir? Ber. O this after-noone

Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well

Ber. O thou knowest not what it is

Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it

Ber. Why villaine thou must know first

Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning

Ber. It must be done this after-noone, Harke slaue, it is but this:
The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke, And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie: When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her, aske for her: And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal’d-vp counsaile. Ther’s thy guerdon: goe

Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration, a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon. I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration. Enter.

Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue,
I that haue beene loues whip?
A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke, Nay, a night-watch Constable.
A domineering pedant ore the Boy,
Then whom no mortall so magnificent, This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy, This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid, Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes, Th’ annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes: Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents: Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces. Sole Emperator and great generall
Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.) And I to be a Corporall of his field,
And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope. What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife,
A woman that is like a Germane Cloake, Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
And neuer going a right, being a Watch: But being watcht, that it may still goe right. Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all: And among three, to loue the worst of all, A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.
With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes. I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede, Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde. 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 dreadfull little might.
Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone, Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords.

Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard, Against the steepe vprising of the hill? Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he

Qu. Who ere a was, a shew’d a mounting minde: Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch, On Saterday we will returne to France.
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush That we must stand and play the murtherer in? For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A stand where you may make the fairest shoote

Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote, And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoote

For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so

Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no. O short liu’d pride. Not faire? alacke for woe

For. Yes Madam faire

Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,
Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true: Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due

For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit

Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau’d by merit. O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes, A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise. But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill, And shooting well, is then accounted ill: Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote, Not wounding, pittie would not let me do’t: If wounding, then it was to shew my skill, That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill. And out of question, so it is sometimes: Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes, When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part, We bend to that, the working of the hart. As I for praise alone now seeke to spill The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill

Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be Lords ore their Lords?
Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford, To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
Enter Clowne.

Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth

Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head Lady?
Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue no heads

Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest? Qu. The thickest, and the tallest

Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth. And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit, One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are the thickest here? Qu. What’s your will sir? What’s your will? Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne, To one Lady Rosaline

Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He’s a good friend of mine. Stand a side good bearer.
Boyet, you can carue,
Breake vp this Capon

Boyet. I am bound to serue.
This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here: It is writ to Iaquenetta

Qu. We will read it, I sweare.
Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare

Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true
that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious, truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame: hee came one; see, two; ouercame three:
Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side? the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Begger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could. Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy euerie part.
Thine in the dearest designe of industrie, Don Adriana de Armatho.
Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before, And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den

Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you euer heare better?
Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile

Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile

Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his Booke-mates

Qu. Thou fellow, a word.
Who gaue thee this Letter?
Clow. I told you, my Lord

Qu. To whom should’st thou giue it? Clo. From my Lord to my Lady

Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady? Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, To a Lady of France, that he call’d Rosaline

Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away. Here sweete, put vp this, ’twill be thine another day.


Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter? Rosa. Shall I teach you to know

Boy. I my continent of beautie

Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off

Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie, Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie. Finely put on

Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter

Boy. And who is your Deare?
Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not neare. Finely put on indeede

Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee strikes at the brow

Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower: Haue I hit her now

Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it

Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a little wench, as touching the hit it

Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it my good man

Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:
And I cannot, another can.

Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it

Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both did hit

Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies my Lady.
Let the mark haue a pricke in’t, to meat at, if it may be

Mar. Wide a’th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out

Clo. Indeede a’ must shoote nearer, or heele ne’re hit the clout

Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in

Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the is in

Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow foule

Clo. She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to boule

Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good Oule

Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne. Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe. O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man. To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan. To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will sweare:
And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit, Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
Sowla, sowla.

Exeunt. Shoote within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony of a good conscience

Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth

Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye, it was a Bucke of the first head

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo

Dul. ‘Twas not a haud credo, ’twas a Pricket

Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo for a Deare

Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, ’twas a Pricket

Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke

Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are bred in a booke.
He hath not eate paper as it were:
He hath not drunke inke.
His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall, onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in vs more then he.
For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or a foole;
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a Schoole.
But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde, Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde

Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that’s not fiue weekes old as yet?
Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull

Dul. What is dictima?
Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone

Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was no more.
And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore. Th’ allusion holds in the Exchange

Dul. ‘Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the Exchange

Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th’ allusion holds in the Exchange

Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange: for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside that, ’twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill’d

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour the ignorant call’d the Deare, the Princesse kill’d a Pricket

Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurilitie

Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues facilitie.
The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt a prettie pleasing Pricket,
Some say a Sore, but not a sore,
till now made sore with shooting.
The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore, then Sorrell iumps from thicket:
Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.
If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore,
makes fiftie sores O sorell:
Of one sore I an hundred make
by adding but one more L

Nath. A rare talent

Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent

Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects, Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankfull for it

Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor’d by you, and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you are a good member of the common-wealth

Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soule Feminine saluteth vs.
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person

Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should be perst, Which is the one?
Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a hogshead

Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle enough for a Swine: ’tis prettie, it is well

Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it

Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses

Hol. I sir, and very learned

Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine. If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue? Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed. Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue. Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers bowed.
Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes. Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend. If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice. Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend. All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder. Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire; Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull thunder.
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire. Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong, That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue

Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the accent. Let me superuise the cangenet

Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you?
Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes Lords

Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline. I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for the nomination of the partie written to the person written vnto.
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne

Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgiue thy duetie, adue

Maid. Good Costard go with me:
Sir God saue your life

Cost. Haue with thee my girle.

Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very religiously: and as a certaine Father saith Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please you sir Nathaniel?
Nath. Marueilous well for the pen

Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill, vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie

Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text) is the happinesse of life

Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba.
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.


Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.

Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe.
They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye, and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she hath one a’my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper, God giue him grace to grone.

He stands aside. The King entreth.

Kin. Ay mee!
Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith secrets

King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not, To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose, As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot. The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes. Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright, Through the transparent bosome of the deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light: Thou shin’st in euery teare that I doe weepe, No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee: So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the teares that swell in me, And they thy glory through my griefe will show: But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe. O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell, No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell. How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper. Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere? Enter Longauile. The King steps aside.

What Longauill, and reading: listen eare

Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare

Long. Ay me, I am forsworne

Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers

Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame

Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name

Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur’d so? Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know, Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie, The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie

Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue. O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue,
These numbers will I teare, and write in prose

Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose, Disfigure not his Shop

Lon. This same shall goe.

He reades the Sonnet.

Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye, ‘Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Perswade my heart to this false periurie? Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment. A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee. My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue. Thy grace being gain’d, cures all disgrace in me. Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is. Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine, Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine: If by me broke, What foole is not so wise, To loose an oath, to win a Paradise?
Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity. A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry. God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o’th’ way. Enter Dumaine.

Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay

Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play, Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie, And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye. More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish, Dumaine transform’d, foure Woodcocks in a dish

Dum. O most diuine Kate

Bero. O most prophane coxcombe

Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye

Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye

Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted

Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted

Dum. As vpright as the Cedar

Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child

Dum. As faire as day

Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine

Dum. O that I had my wish?
Lon. And I had mine

Kin. And mine too good Lord

Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be

Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision

Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ

Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.

Dumane reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alack the day:
Loue, whose Month is euery May,
Spied a blossome passing faire,
Playing in the wanton ayre:
Through the Veluet, leaues the winde, All vnseene, can passage finde.
That the Louer sicke to death,
Wish himselfe the heauens breath.
Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe, Ayre, would I might triumph so.
But alacke my hand is sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne: Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
youth so apt to plucke a sweet.
Doe not call it sinne in me,
That I am forsworne for thee.
Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
Iuno but an aethiop were,
And denie himselfe for Ioue.
Turning mortall for thy Loue.
This will I send, and something else more plaine. That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine. O would the King, Berowne and Longauill, Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a periur’d note: For none offend, where all alike doe dote

Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie, That in Loues griefe desir’st societie:
You may looke pale, but I should blush I know, To be ore-heard, and taken napping so

Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such, You chide at him, offending twice as much. You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile; Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart. I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush, And markt you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru’d your fashion: Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion. Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries! On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes. You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth, And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath. What will Berowne say when that he shall heare Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare. How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit? How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it? For all the wealth that euer I did see,
I would not haue him know so much by me

Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie. Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.