Plays and Poems

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers a paper to him.

Prin. Doth this man serve God? Berowne. Why ask you? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! Exit. 531 King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus.

And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the other five.

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By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:

scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,— Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Berowne. Your nose smells 'no,' in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander,

Boyet. Most true; 'tis right: you were so,
Alisander.

Berowne. Pompey the Great,-
Cost. Your servant, and Costard.
Berowne. Take away the conqueror, take away
Alisander.

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Cost. To NATHANIEL. O sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror. You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a closestool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander.

NATHANIEL retires. There, an't shall please you: a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed! He is a marvellous neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler; but, for Alisander,-alas! you see how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort. Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and MOTH armed, for Hercules.

Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp,

Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canis: And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.
Quoniam he seemeth in minority,
Ergo I come with this apology.

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Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.
MOTH retires.

Judas I am,——

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. Judas I am, ycleped Maccabæus.

Berowne. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried ; an elder.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Berowne, False: we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have outfaced them all. 619 Berowne. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Berowne. For the ass to the Jude? give it him :
-Jud-as, away!

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble.

HOLOFERNES retires. Prin. Alas! poor Maccabæus, how hath he been baited.

Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector. Berowne. Hide thy head, Achilles here comes Hector in arms.

when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

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Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.

Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Aside to DUMAINE. Loves her by the foot. Dum. Aside to BOYET. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,— Cost. The party is gone: fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

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Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already: 'tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

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Berowne. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the Huge! Dum. Hector trembles.

Berowne. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Berowne. Ay, if a' have no more man's blood in 's belly than will sup a flea.

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Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man : I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies! Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower.

Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat?

What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

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Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Berowne. What reason have you for 't? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next his heart for a favour.

Enter Monsieur MARCADE, a Messenger. Mar. God save you, madam !

Prin. Welcome, Marcade,

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But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
Mar. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father-

Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath.
I have seen the day of wrong through the little
hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a
soldier.
Exeunt Worthies.

King. How fares your majesty?
Prin. Boyet, prepare: I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious
lords,

For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath; your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

730

760

Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain ;
Form'd by the eye, and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true

769

To those that make us both,- fair ladies, you :
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of
love;

Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time.

Ros.
We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
Prin.
A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this: 790
If for my love, as there is no such cause,
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life

810

For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Berowne. And what to me, my love? and what
to me?

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

You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

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Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Kath. A wife? A beard, fair health, and
honesty ;

With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O! shall I say I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and

a day

I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come;
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria?
Mar.
At the twelvemonth's end
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is
long.

Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Berowne. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me.
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.
780 Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Berowne,

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Before I saw you, and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute
That lie within the mercy of your wit:
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won,
You shall this twelvemonth term, from day to day,
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

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Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way: we, this

way.

Exeunt. 92

ACT I.

HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with

Lysander.

HELENA, in love with Demetrius.

OBERON, King of the Fairies.

TITANIA, Queen of the Fairies.
PUCK, or Robin Good-fellow.
PEASE-BLOSSOM,
COBWEB,

Мотн,

MUSTARD-SEED,

Fairies.

Other Fairies attending their King and Queen. Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta.

SCENE.-Athens, and a Wood near it.

SCENE I.-Athens. The Palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants.

The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace: four happy days bring in Another moon; but, O! methinks, how slow This old moon wanes; she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager

Long withering out a young man's revenue.
Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves
in night;

Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

Go, Philostrate,

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rimes,
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, 30
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love;
And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth;
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's
heart,

Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness. And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,

I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, As she is mine, I may dispose of her; 10 Which shall be either to this gentleman, Or to her death, according to our law Immediately provided in that case. The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid.

The.
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
The pale companion is not for our pomp.
Exit PHILOSTRATE.
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.

Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and
DEMETRIUS.

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!
The. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news
with thee?

Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her. Stand forth, Lysander: and, my gracious duke, This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child:

To you your father should be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties, yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
Her. So is Lysander.
The.

In himself he is; But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier.

Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes.

The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.

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