Shakespeare's First Folio Part 109

Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her, For heres a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine, Fashioned to Beatrice

Hero. And heeres another, Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket, Containing her affection vnto Bened.i.c.ke

Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie

Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption

Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth

Prin. How dost thou Bened.i.c.ke the married man?

Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd, and loue my cousin

Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee

Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles

Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward

Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn.

Enter. Mes.

Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight, And brought with armed men backe to Messina

Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.

Dance.

FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.

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 pa.s.se 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 s.p.a.ce

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 G.o.d-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 G.o.dfathers 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 G.o.dfather 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