The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 303

MOTH. Offer'd by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.

HOLOFERNES. What is the figure? What is the figure?

MOTH. Horns.

HOLOFERNES. Thou disputes like an infant; go whip thy gig.

MOTH. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circ.u.m circa- a gig of a cuckold's horn.

COSTARD. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy ginger-bread. Hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my b.a.s.t.a.r.d, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' ends, as they say.

HOLOFERNES. O, I smell false Latin; 'dunghill' for unguem.

ARMADO. Arts-man, preambulate; we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?

HOLOFERNES. Or mons, the hill.

ARMADO. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.

HOLOFERNES. I do, sans question.

ARMADO. Sir, it is the King's most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion, in the posteriors of this day; which the rude mult.i.tude call the afternoon.

HOLOFERNES. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable, for the afternoon. The word is well cull'd, chose, sweet, and apt, I do a.s.sure you, sir, I do a.s.sure.

ARMADO. Sir, the King is a n.o.ble gentleman, and my familiar, I do a.s.sure ye, very good friend. For what is inward between us, let it pa.s.s. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy. I beseech thee, apparel thy head. And among other importunate and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too- but let that pa.s.s; for I must tell thee it will please his Grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger thus dally with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let that pa.s.s. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pa.s.s. The very all of all is- but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy- that the King would have me present the Princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking-out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your a.s.sistance.

HOLOFERNES. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.

Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rend'red by our a.s.sistance, the King's command, and this most gallant, ill.u.s.trate, and learned gentleman, before the Princess- I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.

NATHANIEL. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?

HOLOFERNES. Joshua, yourself; myself, Alexander; this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pa.s.s Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules.

ARMADO. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quant.i.ty enough for that Worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of his club.

HOLOFERNES. Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.

MOTH. An excellent device! So, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry 'Well done, Hercules; now thou crushest the snake!' That is the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it.

ARMADO. For the rest of the Worthies?

HOLOFERNES. I will play three myself.

MOTH. Thrice-worthy gentleman!

ARMADO. Shall I tell you a thing?

HOLOFERNES. We attend.

ARMADO. We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech you, follow.

HOLOFERNES. Via, goodman Dull! Thou has spoken no word all this while.

DULL. Nor understood none neither, sir.

HOLOFERNES. Allons! we will employ thee.

DULL. I'll make one in a dance, or so, or I will play On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.

HOLOFERNES. Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away.

Exeunt

SCENE II.

The park

Enter the PRINCESS, MARIA, KATHARINE, and ROSALINE

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in.

A lady wall'd about with diamonds!

Look you what I have from the loving King.

ROSALINE. Madam, came nothing else along with that?

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Nothing but this! Yes, as much love in rhyme As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.

ROSALINE. That was the way to make his G.o.dhead wax; For he hath been five thousand year a boy.

KATHARINE. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

ROSALINE. You'll ne'er be friends with him: 'a kill'd your sister.

KATHARINE. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; And so she died. Had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might 'a been a grandam ere she died.

And so may you; for a light heart lives long.

ROSALINE. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

KATHARINE. A light condition in a beauty dark.

ROSALINE. We need more light to find your meaning out.

KATHARINE. You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff; Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.

ROSALINE. Look what you do, you do it still i' th' dark.

KATHARINE. So do not you; for you are a light wench.

ROSALINE. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light.

KATHARINE. You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me.

ROSALINE. Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.'

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.

But, Rosaline, you have a favour too?

Who sent it? and what is it?

ROSALINE. I would you knew.

An if my face were but as fair as yours, My favour were as great: be witness this.

Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne; The numbers true, and, were the numb'ring too, I were the fairest G.o.ddess on the ground.

I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.

O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Anything like?

ROSALINE. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Beauteous as ink- a good conclusion.

KATHARINE. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

ROSALINE. Ware pencils, ho! Let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter: O that your face were not so full of O's!

KATHARINE. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows!

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

KATHARINE. Madam, this glove.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Did he not send you twain?

KATHARINE. Yes, madam; and, moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover; A huge translation of hypocrisy, Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity.

MARIA. This, and these pearl, to me sent Longaville; The letter is too long by half a mile.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart The chain were longer and the letter short?

MARIA. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

ROSALINE. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.

That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go.

O that I knew he were but in by th' week!

How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, And shape his service wholly to my hests, And make him proud to make me proud that jests!

So pertaunt-like would I o'ersway his state That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, As wit turn'd fool; folly, in wisdom hatch'd, Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school, And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

ROSALINE. The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

MARIA. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As fool'ry in the wise when wit doth dote, Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Enter BOYET

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

BOYET. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her Grace?

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Thy news, Boyet?

BOYET. Prepare, madam, prepare!

Arm, wenches, arm! Encounters mounted are Against your peace. Love doth approach disguis'd, Armed in arguments; you'll be surpris'd.

Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.