Shakespeare's First Folio Part 132

Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father Qu. Dead for my life

Mar. Euen so: My tale is told

Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud

Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt. Worthies

Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?

Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night

Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay

Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirits, If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.

Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so easily obtain'd

Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the purpose of his speed: And often at his verie loose decides That, which long processe could not arbitrate.

And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue: The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so wholsome profitable, As to reioyce at friends but newly found

Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double

Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors Euen to the opposed end of our intents.

And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.

Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.

Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied obiect in his glance: Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies, Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.

Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.

And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace

Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the Amba.s.sadors of Loue.

And in our maiden counsaile rated them, At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As b.u.mbast and as lining to the time: But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment

Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest

Lon. So did our lookes

Rosa. We did not coat them so

Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre, Grant vs your loues

Qu. A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me.

Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning.

If this austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue, But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of the yeare, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Raining the teares of lamentation, For the remembrance of my Fathers death.

If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither int.i.tled in the others hart

Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.

Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest

Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?

Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd.

You are attaint with faults and periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke

Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?

Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie, With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three

Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?

Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say.

Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some

Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then

Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen

Lon. What saies Maria?

Mari. At the tweluemonths end, Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend

Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long

Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong

Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eie: What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me for my loue

Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes, Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wit.

To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile

Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?

It cannot be, it is impossible.

Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie

Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall.

But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation

Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall, Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall

Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue

King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way

Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie

Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day, And then 'twil end

Ber. That's too long for a play.

Enter Braggart.

Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me

Qu. Was not that Hector?