Complete Plays, The (350 page)

Ferdinand

What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.

Rosaline

By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

Ferdinand

My faith and this the princess I did give:
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Princess

Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.
What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

Biron

Neither of either; I remit both twain.
I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,
Told our intents before; which once disclosed,
The ladies did change favours: and then we,
Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn, in will and error.
Much upon this it is: and might not you

To Boyet

Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet

Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.

Biron

Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.

Enter Costard

Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.

Costard

O Lord, sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Biron

What, are there but three?

Costard

No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.

Biron

And three times thrice is nine.

Costard

Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir we know what we know: I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—

Biron

Is not nine.

Costard

Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

Biron

By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

Costard

O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron

How much is it?

Costard

O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

Biron

Art thou one of the Worthies?

Costard

It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

Biron

Go, bid them prepare.

Costard

We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.

Exit

Ferdinand

Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.

Biron

We are shame-proof, my lord: and tis some policy
To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.

Ferdinand

I say they shall not come.

Princess

Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:
That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.

Biron

A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter Don Adriano De Armado

Don Adriano de Armado

Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

Converses apart with Ferdinand, and delivers him a paper

Princess

Doth this man serve God?

Biron

Why ask you?

Princess

He speaks not like a man of God’s making.

Don Adriano de Armado

That is 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

Ferdinand

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 Maccabaeus:
And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the other five.

Biron

There is five in the first show.

Ferdinand

You are deceived; ’tis not so.

Biron

The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:—
Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

Ferdinand

The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

Enter Costard, for Pompey

Costard

I Pompey am,—

Boyet

 
You lie, you are not he.

Costard

I Pompey am,—

Boyet

 
With libbard’s head on knee.

Biron

Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee.

Costard

I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big —

Dumain

The Great.

Costard

It is, ‘Great,’ sir:— Pompey surnamed the Great;
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:
And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France,
If your ladyship would say, ‘Thanks, Pompey,’ I had done.

Princess

Great thanks, great Pompey.

Costard

’Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I made a little fault in ‘Great.’

Biron

My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter Sir Nathaniel, for Alexander

Sir Nathaniel

When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander;
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:
My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,—

Boyet

Your nose says, no, you are not for it stands too right.

Biron

Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Princess

The conqueror is dismay’d. Proceed, good Alexander.

Sir Nathaniel

When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander,—

Boyet

Most true, ’tis right; you were so, Alisander.

Biron

Pompey the Great,—

Costard

Your servant, and Costard.

Biron

Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Costard

[To Sir 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 close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander.

Sir Nathaniel retires

There, an’t shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvellous good 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.

Enter Holofernes, for Judas; and Moth, for Hercules

Holofernes

 
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.
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Moth retires

Judas I am,—

Dumain

A Judas!

Holofernes

Not Iscariot, sir.
Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.

Dumain

Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.

Biron

A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?

Holofernes

Judas I am,—

Dumain

The more shame for you, Judas.

Holofernes

What mean you, sir?

Boyet

To make Judas hang himself.

Holofernes

Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron

Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

Holofernes

I will not be put out of countenance.

Biron

Because thou hast no face.

Holofernes

What is this?

Boyet

A cittern-head.

Dumain

The head of a bodkin.

Biron

A Death’s face in a ring.

Longaville

The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

Boyet

The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.

Dumain

The carved-bone face on a flask.

Biron

Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.

Dumain

Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Biron

Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.
And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

Holofernes

You have put me out of countenance.

Biron

False; we have given thee faces.

Holofernes

But you have out-faced them all.

Biron

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?

Dumain

For the latter end of his name.

Biron

For the ass to the Jude; give it him:— Jud-as, away!

Holofernes

This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boyet

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

Holofernes retires

Princess

Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!

Enter Don Adriano de Armado, for Hector

Biron

Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.

Dumain

Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

Ferdinand

Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

Boyet

But is this Hector?

Ferdinand

I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.

Longaville

His leg is too big for Hector’s.

Dumain

More calf, certain.

Boyet

No; he is best endued in the small.

Biron

This cannot be Hector.

Dumain

He’s a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

Don Adriano de Armado

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,—

Dumain

A gilt nutmeg.

Biron

A lemon.

Longaville

Stuck with cloves.

Dumain

No, cloven.

Don Adriano de Armado

Peace!—
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,—

Dumain

That mint.

Longaville

That columbine.

Don Adriano de Armado

Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Longaville

I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

Dumain

Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.

Don Adriano de Armado

The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device.

To the Princess

Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Princess

Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

Don Adriano de Armado

I do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.

Boyet

[Aside to Dumain]
 
Loves her by the foot,—

Dumain

[Aside to Boyet]
 
He may not by the yard.

Don Adriano de Armado

This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,—

Costard

The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Don Adriano de Armado

What meanest thou?

Costard

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.

Don Adriano de Armado

Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.

Costard

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

Dumain

Most rare Pompey!

Boyet

Renowned Pompey!

Biron

Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!
Pompey the Huge!

Dumain

Hector trembles.

Biron

Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on!