A PLEASANT Conceited Comedy CALLED, loves labours lost.  
As it was presented before her Highness this last Christmas.  
Newly corrected and augmented By W. Shakespeare.  
Imprinted at London by W.W. for Cuthbert Burby. 1598.   
Enter Ferdinand K. of Navarre, Berowne, Longavill, and Dumain. Ferdinand. 
LET Fame, that all hunt after in their lives,  
Live registered upon our brazen Tombs,  
And then grace us, in the disgrace of death:  
When spite of cormorant devouring Time,  
Then devour of this present breath may buy:  
That honour which shall bate his scythes keen edge,  
And make us heirs of all eternity.  
Therefore brave Conquerors, for so you are,  
That war against your own affections,  
And the huge army of the worlds desires.  
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force,  
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world.  
Our Court shallbe a lytlle Achademe,  
Still and contemplative in living art.  
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longavill,  
Have sworn for three years term, to live with me:  
My fellow Scholars, and to keep those statutes  
That are recorded in this schedule here.  
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names:  
That his own hand may strike his honour down,  
That violates the smallest branch herein,  
If you are armed to do, as sworn to do,  
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it to.  Longavill. 
I am resolved, 'tis but a thee years fast:  
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine,  
Fat paunches have lean pates: and dainty bits  
Make rich the ribs, but bancrout quite the wits.  Dumain. 
My loving Lord, Dumain is mortified,  
The grosser manner of these worlds delights:  
He throws upon the gross world's baler slaves  
To love, to wealth, to pome▪ I pine and die,  
With all these living in Philosophy▪  Berowne. 
I can but say their protestation over,  
So much dear Liege, I have already sworn,  
That is, to live and study here three years.  
But there are other strict observances:  
As not to see a woman in that term,  
Which I hope well is not enroled there.  
And one day in a week to touch no food:  
And but one meal on every day beside:  
The which I hope is not enroled there.  
And then to sleep but three hours in the night,  
And not be seen to wink of all the day.  
When I was wont to think no harm all night,  
And make a dark night too of half the day:  
Which I hope well is not enroled there,  
O these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,  
Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleep.  Ferd. 
Your oath is past, to pass away from these.  Berow. 
Let me say no my liege, and if you please,  
I only swore to study with your grace,  
And stay here in your Court for three years space.  Longa. 
You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest.  Bero. 
By yea and nay sir, than I swore in jest.  
What is the end of study, let me know?  Ferd. 
Why that to know which else we should not know.  Ber. 
Things hid & ●ard (you mean) from cammon sense.  Ferd. 
I, that is studies godlike recompense.  Bero. 
Com'on then, I will swear to study so,  
To know the thing I am forbid to know:  
As thus, to study where I well may dine,  
When I to fast expressly am forbid.  
Or study where to meet some Mistress fine.  
When Mistresses from common sense are hid.  
Or having sworn too hard a keeping oath,  
Study to break it, and not break my troth.  
If studies gain be thus, and this be so,  
Study knows that which yet it doth not know,  
Swear me to this, and I will near say no.  Ferd. 
These be the stops that hinder study quit,  
And train our intellects to vain delight.  Bero. 
Why? all delights are vain, but that most vain  
Which with pain purchased, doth inherit pain,  
As painfully to pore upon a Book,  
To seek the light of truth, while truth the while  
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:  
Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile:  
So ere you find where light in darkness lies,  
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.  
Study me how to please the eye in deed,  
By fixing it upon a fairer eye,  
Who dazzling so, that eye shallbe his heed,  
And give him light that it was blinded by.  
Study is like the heavens glorious Sun,  
That will not be deep searched with saucy looks:  
Small have continual plodders ever won,  
Save base authority from others Books.  
These earthly Godfathers of heavens lights,  
That give a name to every fixed Star,  
Have no more profit of their shining nights,  
Then those that walk and wots not what they are.  
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:  
And every Godfather can give a name.  Ferd. 
How well he's read to reason against reading.  Dum. 
Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.  Lon. 
He weeds the corn & still let's grow the weeding.  Ber. 
The Spring is near when green geese are a breeding.  Duma. 
How follows that?  Ber. 
Fit in his place and tyme.  Duma. 
In reason nothing.  Bero. 
Something than in rhyme.  Ferd. 
Berowne is like an envious sneaping Frost,  
That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.  Bero. 
Well, say I am, why should proud Summer boast,  
Before the Birds have any cause to sing?  
Why should I joy in any abhortive birth?  
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,  
Then wish a Snow in Mayes new-fangled shows:  
But like of each thing that in season grows.  
So you to study now it is too late,  
Climb over the house to unlock the little gate.  Ferd. 
Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adieu.  Bero. 
No my good Lord, I have sworn to stay with you.  
And though I have for barbarism spoke more  
Than for that Angel knowledge you can say,  
Yet confident I'll keep what I have sworn,  
And bide the penance of each three years day.  
Give me the paper, let me read the same,  
And to the strictest decrees I'll write my name.  Fer. 
How well this yielding rescewes thee from shame.  Ber. 
Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my Court. Hath this been proclaimed?  Long. 
Four days ago.  Ber. 
Let's see the penalty▪ On pain of losing her tongue.  
Who devised this penalty?  Long. 
Marry that did I.  Bero. 
Sweet Lord and why?  Long. 
To fright them hence with that dread penalty.  
A dangerous law against gentletie.  
Item▪ If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years▪ he shall endure such publibue shame as the rest of the Court can possible devise.  Ber. 
This Article my liege yourself must break,  
For well you know here comes in Embassaie,  
The French kings daughter with yourself to speak:  
A Maid of grace and complete majesty,  
About surrender up of Aquitaine,  
To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid Father.  
Therefore this Article is made in vain,  
Or vainly comes th' admired Princess hither.  Ferd. 
What say you Lords? why, this was quite forgot.  Ber. 
So Study evermore is overshot,  
While it doth study to have what it would,  
It doth forget to do the thing it should:  
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most.▪  
'tis won as towns with fire, so won so lost.  Fer. 
We must of force dispense with this Decree,  
She must lie here on mere necessity.  Ber. 
Necessity will make us all forsworn  
Three thousand times within this three years space:  
For every man with his affects is borne,  
Not by might mastered, but by special grace.  
If I break faith, this word shall speak for me,  
I am forsworn on mere necessity.  
So to the Laws at large I writ my name,  
And he that breaks them in the least degree,  
Stands in attainder of eternal shame.  
Suggestions are to other as to me▪  
But I believe although I seem so loath,  
I am the last that will last keep his oath.  
But is there no quick recreation granted?  Ferd. 
I that there is, our Court you know is haunted  
With a refined travailer of Spain,  
A man in all the worlds new fashion planted,  
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain:  
On who the music of his own vain tongue  
Doth ravish like enchanting harmony:  
A man of compliments whom right and wrong  
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny.  
This child of Fancy that Armado hight,  
For interim to our studies shall relate,  
In high borne words the worth of many a Knight:  
From tawny Spain lost in the worlds debate.  
How you delight my Lords I know not I,  
But I protest I love to hear him lie,  
And I will use him for my Minstrelsy.  Bero. 
Armado is a most illustrious wight,  
A man of fire new words, Fashions own knight.  Lon. 
Costard the swain and he, shallbe our sport,  
And so to study three years is but short.  Enter a Constable with Costard with a letter. Constab. 
Which is the Dukes own person?  Ber. 
This fellow, What wouldst?  Const. 
I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's Farborough: But I would see his own person in flesh and blood.  Ber. 
This is he.  Const. 
Signeour Arm Arm commends you:  
there's villainy abroad, this letter will tell you more▪  Clown. 
Sir the Contempls thereof are as touching me.  Fer. 
A letter from the magnifisent Armado.  Bero. 
How low so ever the matter, I hope in God for high words▪  Lon. 
A high hope for a low heaven God grant us patience  Ber. 
To hear, or forbear hearing▪  Lon. 
To hear meekly sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both.  Bero. 
Well sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merrines.  Clow. 
The matter is to me sir, as concerning jaquenetta:  
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.  Bero. 
In what manner?  Clow. 
In manner and form following sir all those three. I was seen with her in the Manner house, sitting with he● upon the Form, and taken following her into the Park●r which put together, is in manner and form following. Now sir for the manner, It is the manner of a man to speak to a woman, for the form in some form.  Ber. 
For the following sir.  Clow. 
As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right.  Ferd. 
Will you hear this Letter with attention?  Bero. 
As we would hear an Oracle.  Clow. 
Such is the sinplicitie of man to hearken after the flesh▪  Ferd 
GReat Deputy the welkis Vizgerent, and sole dominatur of Navarre, my soul's earths God, and body's fostering patron:  Cost. 
Not a word of Costard yet.  Ferd. 
So it is  Cost. 
It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true: but so.  Ferd. 
Peace.  Clow. 
Be to me, and every man that dares not fight.  Ferd. 
No words.  Clow. 
Of other men's secrets I beseech you.  Ferd. 
So it is besedged with sable coloured melancholy, I did commend the black oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-geving air: And as I am a Gentleman, betook myself to walk: the time When? about the sixth hour, When Beasts most graze, Birds best peck▪ and Men sit down to that nourishment which is called Supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I mean I walked upon, it is yclept Thy Park. Then for the place Where? where I mean, I did encounter that obscene & most propostrous event that draweth from my snowhite pen the ebon coloured Ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North north-east & by East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited Swain, that base minnow of thy mirth, (Clown. Me?) that unlettered small knowing soul, (Clow. Me?) that shallow vassal (Clown. Still me.) which as I remember, height Costard, (Clow. O me) sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaimed Edict and continent Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith:  Clo. 
With a Wench.  Ferd. 
With a child of our Grandmother Eve, a female; or for thy more sweet understanding a Woman: him, I (as my ever esteemed duty pricks me on) have sent to thee, to receive the m●●●e of punishment by thy sweet Grace's Gfficer Anthony Dull, a man of good reput, carriage b●aring, and estimation.  Antho. 
Me ant shall please you? I am Anthony Dull.  Ferd. 
For jaquenetta (so is the weaker vessel called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swain, I keep her as a vessel of thy Laws fury, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty.  
Don Adriano de Armado.  Boy. 
Which the base vulgar do call three.  Arma. 
True.  Boy. 
Why sir is this such a piece of study? Now here is three studied ere yele thrice wink: and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing Horse will tell you.  Arm. 
A most fine Figure.  Boy. 
To prove you a cipher.  Arm. 
I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is base for a Soldier to love; so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my Sword against the humour of affection, would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French Courtier for a new devised curtsy. I think scorn to sigh, me thinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men have been in love?  Boy. 
Hercules' Master.  Arm. 
Most sweet Hercules: more authority dear Boy, name more; and sweet my child let them be men of good repute and carriage.  Boy. 
Samson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for he carried the town-gates on his back like a Porter: and he was in love.  Arm. 
O well knit Samson, strong jointed Samson; I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampsons' love my dear Moth?  Boy. 
A Woman, Master.  Arm. 
Of what complexion?  Boy. 
Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.  Arm. 
Tell me precisely of what complexion?  Boy. 
Of the sea-water green sir.  Arm. 
Is that one of the four complexions?  Boy. 
As I have read sir, and the best of them too.  Arm. 
Green in deed is the colour of Lovers: but to have a love of that colour, me thinks Samson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit.  Boy. 
It was so sir▪ for she had a green wit.  Arm. 
My love is most immaculate white and red.  Boy. 
Most maculate thoughts Master, are masked under such colours.  Ar. 
Define, define, well educated infant.  Boy. 
My father's wit, and my mother's tongue assist me.  Ar. 
Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty & pathetical.  Boy. 
If she be made of white and red,  
Her faults will near be known:  
For blush-in cheeks by faults are bred,  
And fears by pale white shown:  
Then if she fear, or be to blame,  
By this you shall not know,  
Eor still her cheeks possess the same,  
Which native she doth owe  
A dangerous rhyme master against the reason of white & red.  Ar. 
Is there not a Ballet Boy, of the King & the Beggar?  Boy. 
The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some three ages since, but I think now 'tis not to be found: or if it were, it would neither serve for the writing, nor the tune.  Ar. 
I will have that subject newly writ over, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I do love, that Country girl that I took in the Park with the rational hind Costard: she deserves well.  Boy. 
To be whipped: and yet a better love than my master.  Ar. 
Sing Boy, My spirit grows heavy in love.  Boy. 
And that's great marvel, loving a light Wench.  Ar. 
I say sing.  Boy. 
Forbear till this company be past.  Enter Clown, Constable, and Wench. Constab. 
Sir, the Duke's pleasure is that you keep Costard safe, and you must suffer him to take no delight, nor no penance, but a'must fast three days a week: for this Damsel I must keep her at the Park, she is aloud for the Day woman. Far you well.  Ar. 
I do betray myself with blushing: Maid.  Maid. 
Men.  Ar. 
I will visit thee at the Lodge.  Maid. 
That's hereby.  Ar. 
I know where it is situate.  Ma. 
Lord how wise you are.  Ar. 
I will tell thee wonders.  Ma. 
With that face.  Ar. 
I love thee.  Ma. 
So I heard you say.  Ar. 
And so farewell.  Ma. 
Fair weather after you.  Clo. 
Come jaquenetta, away.  Exeunt. Ar. 
Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.  Clo. 
Well sir I hope when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.  Ar. 
Thou shalt be heavily punished.  Clo. 
I am more bound to you then your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.  Ar. 
Take away this villain, shut him up.  Boy. 
Come you transgressing slave, away.  Clo. 
Let me not be penned up sir, I will fast being lose.  Boy. 
No sir, that were fast and lose: thou shalt to prison.  Clo. 
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.  Boy. 
What shall some see?  Clo. 
Nay nothing M. Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thank God I have as little patience as an other man, & therefore I can be quiet.  Exit. Arm. 
I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoe (which is base) guided by her foot (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falsehood) if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar; Love is a Devil. There is no evil angel but Love, yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's But shaft is too hard for Hercules' Club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serve my turn: the Passado he respects not, the Duella he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu Valour, rust Rapier, be still Drum, for your manager is in love; yea he loveth. Assist me some extemporal God of Rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn Sonnet▪ Devise Wit, writ Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.  Exit. Enter the Princess of France, with three attending Ladies and three Lords. Boyet. 
Now Madam summon up your dearest spirits,  
Cosider who the King your father sends:  
To whom he sends, and what's his Embassy.  
Yourself, held precious in the worlds esteem,  
To parley with the sole inheritor  
Of all perfections that a man may owe,  
Matchless Navarre, the plea of no less weight,  
Then Aquitaine a Dowry for a Queen.  
Be now as prodigal of all Dear grace,  
As Nature was in making Graces dear,  
When she did starve the general world beside,  
And prodigally gave them all to you.  Queen. 
Good L. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,  
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:  
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,  
Not uttered by base sale of chapmen's tongues:  
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth,  
Then you much willing to be counted wise,  
In spending your Wit in the praise of mine.  
But now to task the tasker, good Boyet,  
You are not ignorant all telling fame  
Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a Vow,  
Till painful study shall outwear three years,  
No Woman may approach his silent Court:  
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,  
Before we enter his forbidden gates,  
To know his pleasure, and in that behalf  
Bold of your worthiness, we single you,  
As our best moving fair solicitor:  
Tell him, the Daughter of the King of France  
On serious business craving quick dispatch,  
Importuous personal conference with his grace.  
Haste, signify so much while we attend,  
Like humble visage Suitors his high will.  Boy. 
Proud of employment, willingly I go.  Exit Boy. Prince. 
All pride is willing pride, and yours is s●t  
Who are the Votaries my loving Lords, that are vowfellowes with this virtuous Duke?  Lor. 
Longavill is one.  Princ. 
Know you the man?  1. Lady. 
I know him Madam at a marriage feast,  
Between L. Perigort and the beauteous heir  
Of jaques Fauconbridge solemnized.  
In Normandy saw I this Longavill,  
A man of sovereign peerelsle he is esteemed:  
Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:  
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.  
The only soil of his fair virtues gloze,  
If virtues gloze will stain with any soil,  
Is a sharp Wit matched with too blunt a Will:  
Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wils,  
It should none spare, that come within his power.  Prin. 
Some merry mocking Lord belike, is't so?  Lad. 
They say so most, that most his humours know.  Prin. 
Such short lived wits do whither as they grow.  
Who are the rest?  2. Lad. 
The young Dumain, a well accomplished youth,  
Of all that Virtue love, for Virtue loved,  
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill:  
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,  
And shape to win grace though he had no wit▪  
I saw him at the Duke Alanso●s once,  
And much too little of that good I saw,  
Is my report to his great worthiness.  3. Lad. 
An other of these Su●dentes at that time,  
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.  
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,  
Within the limit of becoming mirth,  
I never spent an hours talk withal.  
His eye begets occasion for his wit,  
For every object that the one doth catch,  
The other turns to a mirth-mooving jest.  
Which his fair tongue (conceits expositor)  
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,  
That aged ears play truant at his tales.  
And younger hearings are quite ravished.  
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.  Prin. 
God bless my Ladies, are they all in love?  
That every one her own hath garnished,  
With such bedecking ornaments of praise.  Lord. 
Hear comes Boyet.  Enter Boyet. Prin. 
Now, What admittance Lord?  Boyet. 
Navarre had notice of your fair approach,  
And he and his compettitours in oath,  
Were all addressed to meet you gentle Lady  
Before I came: Marry thus much I have learned,  
He rather means to lodge you in the field,  
Like one that comes here to besiege his Court,  
Then seek a dispensation for his oath:  
To let you enter his unpeeled house.  Enter Navarre, Longavill, Dumain, & Berowne. Bo. 
Hear comes Navar.  Navar. 
Fair Princess, Welcome to the court of Navar.  Prin. 
Fair I give you back again, and welcome I have not yet: the roof of this Court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.  Nau. 
You shallbe welcome Madam to my Court.  Prin. 
I willbe welcome then, Conduct me thither.  Nau. 
Hear me dear Lady, I have sworn an oath,  Prin. 
Our Lady help my Lord, he'll be forsworn.  Nau. 
Not for the world fair Madam, by my will.  Prin. 
Why, will shall break it will, and nothing else.  Nau. 
Your Ladishyp is ignorant what it is.  Prin, 
Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise▪  
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.  
I hear your grace hath sworn out Housekeeping:  
'tis deadly sin to keep that oath my Lord,  
And sin to break it: but pardon me, I am too sudden bold,  
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.  
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,  
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.  Nau. 
Madam I will, if suddenly I may.  Prin. 
You will the sooner that I were away,  
For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.  Berowne. 
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?  Kather. 
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?  Ber. 
I know you did.  Kath. 
How needles was it then to ask the question?  Ber. 
You must not be so quick.  Kath. 
'tis long of you that spur me with such questions.  Ber. 
Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tyre.  Kath. 
Not till it leave the rider in the mire.  Ber. 
What time a day?  Kath. 
The hour that fools should ask.  Ber. 
Now fair befall your mask.  Kath. 
Fair fall the face it covers.  Ber. 
And send you many lovers.  Kath. 
Amen, so you be none.  Ber. 
Nay then will I be gone.  Ferd. 
Madame, your father here doth intimate,  
The payment of a hundred thousand Crowns,  
Being but the one half of, of an entire sum,  
Disbursed by my father in his wars.  
But say that he, or we, as neither have  
Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid  
A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which,  
One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,  
Although not valued to the moneys worth.  
If then the King your father will restore,  
But that one half which is unsatisfied,  
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,  
And hold fair faiendship with his Majesty,  
But that it seems he little purposeth:  
For here he doth p●maund to have repaid,  
A hundred thousand Crowns, and not demands  
One payment of a hundred thousand Crowns,  
To have his title live in Aquitaine.  
Which we much rather had departed withal,  
And have the money by our father lent,  
Then Aquitaine, so gelded as it is.  
Dear Princess were not his requests so far  
From reasons yielding, your fair self should make  
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast,  
And go well satisfied to France again.  Prin. 
You do the King my father too much wrong,  
And wrong the reputation of your name,  
In so unseeming to confess receipt,  
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.  Ferd. 
I do protest I never heard of it:  
And if you prove it, Il● repay it back,  
Or yield up Aquitaine.  Princ. 
We arrest your word.  
Boyet you can produce acquittances,  
For such a sum from spciall officers,  
Of Charles his father.  Ferd. 
Satisfy me so.  Boyet. 
So please your Grace, the packet is not come,  
Where that and other specialties are bound:  
To morrow you shall have a sight of them.  Ferd. 
It shall suffice me; at which interview,  
All liberal reason I will yield unto.  
M●ane time receive such welcome at my hand,  
As honour (without breach of honour) may,  
Make tender of to thy TRUE worthiness.  
You may not come (fair Princess) within my gates,  
But here without you shallbe so received,  
As you shall deem yourself lodged in my hart▪  
Though so denied fair harbour in my house,  
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell  
To morrow shall we visit you again.  Pri. 
Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace.  Na. 
Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.  Exit. Ber. 
Lady I will commend you to my none heart.  Ros. 
Pray you, do my commendations, I would be glad to see it.  Ber. 
I would you heard it groan.  Ros. 
Is the fool sick.  Ber. 
Sick at the heart.  Ros. 
Alack, let it blood.  Bar. 
Would that do it good?  Ros. 
My Physic says I.  Ber. 
Will you pricked with your eye.  Ros. 
No point, with my knife.  Ber. 
Now God save thy life.  Ros. 
And yours from long living.  Ber. 
I cannot stay thanksgiving.  Exit. Enter Dumaine. Dum. 
Sir, I pray you a word, What Lady is that same?  Boyet. 
The heir of Alencon, Rosalin her name.  Dum. 
A gallant Lady Mounsir, far you well.  Exit. Longavill. 
I beseech you a word, What is she in the white?  Boyet. 
A woman sometimes, and you saw her in the light.  Lon. 
Perchance light in the light. I desire her name?  Bo 
She hath but one for herself, to desire that were a shame.  Lon. 
Pray you sir, Whose daughter?  Bo. 
Her mothers, I have heard.  Lon. 
God's blessing on your beard.  Bo. 
Good sir be not offended, She is an heir of Falconbridge.  Lon. 
Nay my collar is ended. She is a most sweet Lady.  Bo 
Not unlike sir, that may be.  Exit Longavil. Enter Berowne. Bero. 
What's her name in the cap?  Boy. 
Katherine by good hap.  Berinthia, 
Is she wedded or no?  Boy. 
To her will sir, or so.  Ber. 
O you are welcome sir, adieu.  Boy. 
Farewell to me sir, and welcome to you.  Exit Bero. Lady Maria. 
That last is Berowne, the merry madcap L.  
Not a word with him but a jest.  Boy. 
And every jest but a word.  Prin. 
It was well done of you to take him at his word.  Boy. 
I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.  Lady Ka. 
Two hot sheeps marry.  Bo. 
And wherefore not Ships?  
No Sheep (sweet Lamb) unless we feed on your lips.  La. 
You Sheep and I pasture: shall that finish the jest▪  Bo. 
So you grant pasture for me.  Lad. 
Not so gentle Beast.  
My lips are no Common, though several they be.  Bo. 
Belonging to whom?  La. 
To my fortunes and me.  Prin. 
Good wits will be jangling, but gentles agree,  
This civil war of wits were much better used  
On Navarre and his Bookmen, for here 'tis abused.  Bo. 
If my observation (which very seldom lies  
By the hearts still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes.  
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.  Prin. 
With what?  Bo. 
With that which we Lovers entitle Affected.  Prin. 
Your reason.  Bo. 
Why all his behaviours did make their retire,  
To the court of his eye, peeping through desire.  
His heart like an Agate with your print impressed,  
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed.  
His tongue all impatient to speak and not see,  
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be,  
All senses to that sense did make their repair,  
To feel only looking on fairest of fair:  
Me thought all his senses were lokt in his eye,  
As jewels in Crystal for some Prince to buy.  
Who tendering their own worth from where they were glast,  
Did point you to buy them along as you past,  
His faces own margin did coat such amazes,  
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.  
I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,  
And you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.  Prin. 
Come, to our Pavilion, Boyet is disposed.  Bo. 
But to speak that in words, which his eye hath disclosed.  
I only have made a mouth of his eye,  
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.  Lad. 
Thou art an old Love-monger, & speakest skilfully.  Lad. 2. 
He is Cupid's Grandfather, and learns news of him.  Lad. 3. 
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.  Boy. 
Do you hear my mad Wenches?  Lad. 
No.  Boy. 
What then, do you see?  Lad. 
I, our way to be gone.  Boy. 
You are too hard for me.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Braggart and his Boy. Bra. 
Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing.  Boy. 
Concolinel.  Brag. 
Sweet Air, go tenderness of years, take this Key, give enlargement to the Swain, bring him festinately hither, I must employ him in a letter to my love.  Boy. 
Master, will you win your love with a french brawl?  Brag. 
How meanest thou? brawling in French.  Boy. 
No my complet Master, but to jig off a tune at the tongues end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note sometime through the throat, if you swallowed love with singing love sometime through: nose as if you snuff up love by smelling love with your hat penthouse like o●e the shop of your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thinbellies' doublet like a Rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket like ● man after the old painting, and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours, these betray nice wenches that would be betrayed without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these.  Brag. 
How hast thou purchased this experience?  Boy. 
By my pen of observation.  Brag. 
But o but o.  Boy. 
The Hobby-horse is forfeit.  Brag. 
Call'st thou my love Hobby-horse.  Boy. 
No Master, the Hobby-horse is but a ●olt, and your love perhaps, a hackney: But have you forgot your Love?  Brag. 
Almost I had.  Boy. 
negligent student, learn her by heart.  Brag. 
By heart, and in heart boy.  Boy. 
And out of heart Master: all those three I will prove.  Brag. 
What wilt thou prove?  Boy. 
A man, if I live (and this) by, in, and without, upon the instan●▪ by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her: and out of heart you love her▪ being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.  Brag. 
I am all these three.  Boy. 
And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.  Brag. 
Fetch hither the Swain, he must carry me a letter.  Boy. 
A message well simpa●●isd, a Horse to be ambassador for an Ass.  Brag. 
Ha ha, What sayest thou?  Boy. 
Marry sir, you must send the Ass upon the Horse, for he is very slow gated: but I go.  Brag. 
The way is but short, away.  Boy. 
As swift as Led sir.  Brag. 
The meaning pretty ingenius, is not Led a metal heavy, dull, and slow?  Boy. 
Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no.  Brag. 
I say Lead is slow.  Boy. 
You are too swift sir to say so.  
Is that Led slow which is fired from a Gun▪  Brag. 
Sweet smoke of Rhetoric▪  
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's heer  
I shoot thee at the Swain.  Boy. 
Thump then, and I fl●e.  Brag. 
A most acute Iwenall, volable and free of grace,  
By thy favour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face:  
Most rude melancholy, Valour gives thee place.  
My Herald is returned.  Enter Page and Clown. Pag. 
A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin.  Ar. 
Some enigma, some riddle, ●ome, thy lenvoy begin.  Clo. 
No enigma, no riddle, no envoy, no salve, in thee male sir.  
O sir, Plantain, a pline Plantain: no envoy, no envoy, no Salve sir, but a Plantain.  Ar. 
By virtue thou inforcest laughter, thy silly thought, my spleen, the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smile: O pardon me my stars, doth the inconsiderate take salve for envoy, and the word envoy for a salve?  Pag. 
Do the wise think them other, is not envoy a salve?  A. 
No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain,  
Some obscure presedence that hath tofor● been feign.  
I will example it.  
The Fox, the Ape, and the Humblebee,  
Were still at odds being but three.  
there's the moral: Now the envoy.  Pag. 
I will add the envoy, say the moral again.  Ar. 
The Fox, the Ape, and the Humblebee,  
Were still at odds, being but three.  Pag. 
Until the Goose came out of door,  
And stayed the odds by adding four.  
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my envoy.  
The Fox, the Ape, and the Humblebee,  
Were still at odds, being but three.  Arm. 
Until the Goose came out of door,  
Staying the odds by adding four.  Pag. 
A good lenvoy, ending in the Goose: would you desire more?  Clo. 
The Boy hath sold him a bargain, a Goose, that's flat.  
Sir, your pennyworth is good, and your Goose be fat.  
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose▪  
Let me see a fat lenvoy, ● thate 〈…〉  Ar. 
Come hither, come 〈…〉 argument begin▪  Boy. 
By saying that a Costard was broken 〈…〉  
Then called you for the lenvoy.  Clow. 
True, and I for a Plantain, thus came your argument in,  
Then the boys fat lenvoy, the Goose that you bought, and he ended the market.  Ar. 
But tell me, How was there a Costard broken in a shin?  Pag. 
I will tell you sensibly.  Clow. 
Thou hast no feeling of it Moth, I will speak thee  
I Costard running out, that was safely within,  
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.  Arm. 
We will talk no more of this matter.  Clow. 
Till there be m●●● matter in the shin.  Arm. 
Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise then.  Clow. 
O marry me to one ●rancis, I smell some lenvoy, some Goose in this.  Arm. 
By my sweet soul, I mean●▪ setting thee as libertiy.  
Enfreedoming thy person: thou wen emu●●ed, restrained, captivated, bound.  Clown. 
True, true, and now you willbe my purgation, and let me lose.  Arm. 
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from distance, and in lieu thereof, impos●●n thee nothing but th●● Bear● this significant to the country Maid jaquenetta where is remuneration, for the best w●●d of mine honour, it rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.  Pag. 
Like the sequel I, Sign●●● Costard adieu.  Exit. Clow. 
My sweet ou●● of man's flesh, my income Ie●●  
Now will I look to his remuneration.  
Remuneration, O that's the latin word for three▪ farthings▪  
Three-farthings remu●ation where the prior of this 〈◊〉 i. d. no, I'll give you a remuneration● Why? 〈…〉 remuneration: Why▪ it is a fairer name of 〈…〉  
I will never buy and 〈…〉  〈…〉 Ber. 
O my good 〈…〉  Clow. 
Pray you 〈…〉 a man buy for a remuneration?  Ber. 
O what is a remuneration?  Cost. 
Marry sir, half penny farthing.  Ber. 
O, why then three farthing worth of Silk.  Cost. 
I thank your worship, God be wy you.  Ber. 
O stay slave, I must employ thee.  
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,  
Do one thing for me that I shall increate.  Clow. 
When would you have it done sir?  Ber. 
O this afternoon.  Clow. 
Well, I will do it sir: Far you well▪  Ber. 
O thou knowest not what it is.  Clow. 
I shall know sir when I have done it.  Ber. 
Why villain, thou must know first.  Clow. 
I will come to your worship to morrow morning.  Ber. 
It must be done this after noon,  
Hark slave, it is but this:  
The Princess comes to hunt here in the Park,  
And in her train there is a gentle Lady:  
When tongues speak sweetly, than they name her name,  
And Rosaline they call her, ask for her:  
And to her white hand see thou do commend  
This seald-up counsel. there's thy guerdon: go.  Clow. 
Guerdon, O sweet guerdon, better than remuneration, a levenpence-farthing better: most sweet guerdon. I will do it sir in prinn guerdon remuneration.  Exit. Ber. 
O and I forsooth in love, I that have been loves whip?  
A very Bedell to a humorous sigh, a Crietick, nay a night-watch Constable.  
A domineering pedant o'er the Boy, than whom no mortal so magnificent.  
This wimpled whining purblind wayward Boy,  
This signor junios' giant dwarf, dan Cupid,  
Regent of Love-rimes, Lord of folded arms,  
Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groones:  
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents:  
Dread Prince of Placcat●, King of Codpieces▪  
Sole Emperator and great general  
Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)  
And I to be a Corporal of his field,  
And wear his colours like a Tumblers hoop.  
What▪ I love, I sue, I seek a wife,  
A woman that is like a jermane Cloak,  
Still a repairing: ever out of frame,  
And never going a right, being a Watch:  
But being watched, that it may still go right.  
Nay to be perjured, which is worst of all:  
And among three to love the worst of all,  
A whitely wanton, with a velvet brow,  
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes.  
I and by heaven, one that will do the deed,  
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.  
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,  
To pray for her, go to: it is a plague  
That Cupid will impose for my neglect,  
Of his almighty dreadful little might.  
Well, I will love, writ, sigh, pray, shoe, groan,  
Some men must love my Lady, and some jone.  Enter the Princess, a Forester, her Ladies, and her Lords Quee. 
Was that the king that spurred his horse so hard,  
Against the steep up rising of the hill?  Forr. 
I know not, but I think it was not he.  Quee. 
Who ere a was, a showed a mounting mind.  
Well Lords, to day we shall have our dispatch,  
Ore Saturday we will return to France.  
Then Forester my friend, Where is the Bush  
That we must stand and play the murderer in?  Forr. 
Hereby upon the edge of yonder Coppice,  
A Stand where you may make the fairest shoot.  Quee. 
I thank my Beauty, I am fair that shoot▪  
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.  Forr. 
Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so.  Quee. 
What, what? First praise me, and again say no.  
O short lived pride. Not fair? alack for woe  For. 
Yes Madam fair.  Quee. 
Nay, never paint me now,  
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.  
Hear (good my glass) take this for telling true:  
Fair payment for foul words, is more than dew.  For. 
No thing but fair is that which you inherit.  Quee. 
See see, my beauty willbe saved by merit.  
O heresy in fair, fit for these days,  
A giving hand, though fowl, shall have fair praise.  
But come, the Bow: Now Mercy goes to kill,  
And shooting well, is then accounted ill:  
Thus will I save my Credit in the shoot,  
Not wounding, pity would not let me doote.  
If wounding then it was to show my skill,  
That more for praise, than purpose meant to kill.  
And out of question so it is sometimes:  
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,  
When for Fame's sake, for praise an outward part,  
We bend to that, the working of the heart.  
As I for praise alone now seek to spill  
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.  Boy. 
Do not cursed wives hold that selfe-soveraigntie  
Only for praise sake, when they strive to be  
Lords o'er their Lords?  Quee. 
Only for praise, and praise we may afford,  
To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.  Enter Clown. Boyet, 
Here comes a member of the common wealth.  Clo. 
God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head lady?  Que. 
Thou shalt know her fellow by the rest that have no heads.  Clow. 
Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?  Quee. 
The thickest, and the tallest.  Clow. 
The thickest, and the tallest: it is so, truth is truth.  
And your waste Mistress were as slender as my wit,  
One a these maids girdles for your waste should be fit.  
Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here.  Quee. 
What's your will sir? What's your will?  Clow. 
I have a Letter from monsieur Berowne, to one Lady Rosaline.  Que. 
O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.  
Stand a side good bearer. Boyet you can carve,  
Break up this Capon.  Boyet 
I am bound to serve.  
This letter is mistook: it importeth none here.  
It is writ to jaquenetta.  Quee. 
We will read it, I swear.  
Break the neck of the Wax, and every one give ear.  Boyet reeds. 
BY heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible: true that thou art beauteous, truth itself that thou art lovely: more fairer than fair, beautiful then beauteous, truer than truth itself: have commiseration on thy heroical Vassal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate Beggar Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and overcame: He came, one; see, two; covercame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to overcome. To whom came he? to the Beggar. What saw he? the Beggar. Who overcame he? the beggar▪ The conclusion is victory: On whose side? the King: the captive is enriched, on whose side? the Beggars. The catastrophe is a Nuptial, on whose side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Beggar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for rags robes, for tittles titles, for thyself, me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.  
Thine in the dearest design of industri, Don Adriana de Armatho.  
Thus dost thou hear the nemean Lion roar,  
'Gainst thee thou Lamb, that standest as his prey:  
Submissive fall his princely feet before,  
And he from forage will incline to play.  
But if thou strive (poor soul) what art thou then?  
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.  Quee. 
What plume of feathers is he that indicted this letter?  
What vain? What Weathercock? Did you ever hear better?  Boy. 
I am much deceived, but I remember the style.  Quee. 
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.  Boy. 
This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court.  
A Phantasime a Monarcho, and one that makes sport  
To the Prince and his Booke-mates.  Quee. 
Thou fellow, a word.  
Who gave thee this letter?  Clow. 
I told you, my Lord.  Quee. 
To whom shouldst thou give it?  Clow. 
From my Lord to my Lady.  Quee. 
From which Lord, to which Lady?  Clow. 
From my Lord Berowne, a good Master of mine,  
To a Lady of France, that he called Rosaline.  Quee. 
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.  
Here sweet, put up this, willbe thine another day.  Boy. 
Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?  Rosa. 
Shall I teach you to know.  Boy. 
I my continent of beauty.  Rosa. 
Why she that bears the Bow. Finely put off.  Boy. 
My Lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry, hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.  
Finely put on.  Rosa. 
Well then I am the shooter.  Boy. 
And who is your Dear?  Rosa. 
If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. Finely put on in deed.  Maria. 
You still wrangle with her Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.  Boyet. 
But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now?  Rosa. 
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippen of Frannce was a little boy, as touching the hit it.  Boy. 
So I may answer thee with one as old that was a woman when queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench as toching the hit it.  Rosa. 
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,  
Thou canst not hit it my good man.  Exit. Boy. 
And I cannot, cannot, cannot: and I cannot, an other can.  Clo. 
By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it.  Mar. 
A mark marvelous well shot, for they both did hit.  Bo. 
A mark, O mark but that mark: a mark says my Lady.  
Let the mark have a prick in't, to meat at, if it may be.  Mar. 
Wide a'the bow hand, i'faith your hand is out.  Clo. 
Indeed a'must shoot nearer, or he'll near hit the clout.  Boy. 
And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.  Clo. 
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the is in.  Ma. 
Come come, you talk greasily, your lips grow fowl.  Cl. 
She's to hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to bowl  Bo. 
I fear too much rubbing: good night my good owl.  Clo. 
By my soul a Swain, a most simple Clown.  
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I have put him down.  
O my troth most sweet jests, most inconie vulgar wit,  
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenly as it were, so fit.  
Armatho ath toothen side▪ o a most dainty man,  
To see him walk before a Lady, and to bear her Fann.  
To see him kiss his hand, & how most sweetly a will swear:  
And his Page at other side, that handful of wit,  
Ah heavens, it is most pathetical nit.  
Sowla, sowla.  Exeunt. Shoot. within. Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel. Nat. 
Very reverent sport truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience.  Ped. 
The Dear was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as the Pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Celo the sky, the welkin the heaven, & anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soil, the land, the earth.  Curate Nath. 
Truly M. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly vatried like a scholar at the least: but sir I assure ye it was a Buck of the first head.  Holo. 
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.  Dul. 
'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket.  Holo. 
Most barbarous intimation: yet a kind of insinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or ratherest unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a Dear.  Dul. 
I said the Dear was not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket.  Holo. 
Twice sodd simplicity, bis coctus, O thou monster ignorance, How deformed dost thou look.  Nath. 
Sir he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book.  
He hath not eat paper as it were: he hath not drunk ink.  
His intellect is not replenished, he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be: which we taste, and feeling, are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.  
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indistreell, or a fool,  
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a school.  
But omne bene say I, being of an old Father's mind,  
Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.  Dul. 
You two are bookmen, Can you tell me by your wit,  
What was a month old at cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?  Holo. 
Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull.  Dul. 
What is dictynna?  Nath. 
A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moon.  Holo. 
The Moon was a month old when Adam was no more.  
And wrought not to five-weeks when he came to fivescore.  
Th' allusion holds in the Exchange.  Dul. 
'tis true in deed, the Collusion holds in the Exchange.  Holo. 
God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds in the Exchange.  Dul. 
And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange: for the Moon is never but a month old: and I say beside that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princess kild.  Holo. 
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the Dear, and to humour the ignorault called the Dear: the Princess killed a Pricket.  Nath. 
Perge, good M. Holofernes perge, so it shall please you to abrogate squirilitie.  Holo. 
I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.  
❧ The prayfull Princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing Pricket,  
Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.  
The Dogs did yell, put ell to Sore, than Sorrel jumps from thicket:  
Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorrel, the people fall a hooting.  
If Sore be sore, then el to Sore, makes fifty sores o sorrel:  
Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more I.  Nath. 
A rare talon.  Dull. 
If a talon be a claw, look how he claws him with a talon.  Nath. 
This is a gift that I have simple: simple, a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, Ideas, aprehentions, motions, revolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of Memory, nourished in the womb of primater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion: But the gift is good●n those whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.  Holo. 
Sir, I praise the L. for you, and so may my parishioners, for their Sons are well tutored by you, and their Daughter's profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the common wealth.  Nath. 
Me herele, if their Sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soul Feminine saluteth us.  Enter jaquenetta and the Clown. jaquenetta. 
God give you good morrow M. Person.  Nath. 
Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should be pierced, Which is the one?  Clo. 
Marry M. Schoolmaster, he that is liklest to a hogshead.  Nath. 
Of piercing a Hogshead, a good lustre of conceit in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearl enough for a Swine: 'tis pretty, it is well.  jaque. 
Good M. Parson be so good as read me this letter, it was given me by Costard, and sent me from 〈◊〉 Armatho: I beseech you read it.  Nath. 
Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub umbra ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te unde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan,  
Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not, ut re sol la mi fa:  
Under pardon sir, What are the contents? or rather as Horace says in his, What my soul verses.  Holo. 
I sir, and very learned.  Nath. 
Let me hear a staff, a stauze, a verse, Lege domine.  
If Love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?  
Ah never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed.  
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove.  
Those thoughts to me were Okes, to thee like Osiers bowed  
Study his by as leaves, and makes his book thine eyes.  
Where all those pleasures live, that Art would comprehend.  
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice.  
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.  
All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder.  
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire,  
Thy eye joves' lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder  
Which not to anger bend, is music, and sweet fire.  
Celestial as thou art, Oh pardon love this woug,  
That singes heavens praise, with such an earthly tongue.  Pedan. 
You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the accent. Let me supervise the cangenet.  Nath. 
Here are only numbers ratified, but for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tired Horse his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you?  jaq. 
I sir from one monsieur Berowne, one of the strange Queen's Lords.  Nath. 
I will overglaunce the superscript.  
To the snow white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.  
I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party written to the person written unto.  
Your Ladyships in all desired employment, Berowne.  Ped. 
Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go my sweet, deliver this Paper into the royal hand of the King, it may concern much: stay not thy complement, I forgive thy duty, adieu.  Maid. 
Good Costard go with me: sir God save your life.  Cost. 
Have with thee my girl.  Exit. Holo. 
Sir you have done this in the fear of God very religiously: and as a certain Father saith  Ped. 
Sir tell not me of the Father, I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the Verses, Did they please you sir Nathaniel?  Nath. 
Marvelous well for the pen.  Peda. 
I do dine to day at the fathers of a certain pupil of mine, where if (before repast) it shall please you to gratify the table with a Grace, I will on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your bien venuto, where I will prove those Verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of Poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society.  Nath. 
And thank you to: for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life.  Peda. 
And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.  
Sir I do invite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba.  
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.  Exeunt. Enter Berowne with a paper in his hand, alone. Berow. 
The King he is hunting the Dear,  
I am coursing myself.  
They have pitched a Toil, I am toiling in a pitch, pitch that defiles; defile, a foul word: Well, set thee down sorrow; for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: Well proved wit. By the Lord this Love is as mad as Ajax, it kills Sheep, it kills me, I a Sheep well proved again a my side. I will not love; if I do hang me: I'fayth I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy: and here is part of my Rhyme, and hear my melancholy. Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clown bore it, the Fool sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clown, sweeter Fool, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Hear comes one with a paper, God give him grace to groan.  He stands a side. The King entereth. King. 
Ay me!  Be. 
Shot by heaven, proceed sweet Cupid, thou hast thumped him with thy Bird-bolt under the left pap: in faith secrets.  King, 
So sweet a kiss the golden Sun gives not,  
To those fresh morning drops upon the Rose,  
As thy eye beams, when their fresh raise have smote.  
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows.  
Nor shines the silver Moon one half so bright,  
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,  
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light:  
Thou shinst in every tear that I do weep,  
No drop but as a Coach doth carry thee:  
So ride thou triumphing in my wo.  
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,  
And they thy glory through my grief will show:  
But do not love thyself, than thou will keep  
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.  
O Queen of queens, how far dost thou excel,  
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.  
How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the pader.  
Sweet leaves shade folly. Who is he comes here?  Enter Longavill. The King steps a side. 
What Longavill, and reading: listen ear.  Berow. 
Now in thy likeness, one more fool appear.  Long. 
Ay me! I am forsworn.  Berow. 
Why he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.  Long. 
In love I hope, sweet fellowship in shame.  Ber. 
One drunkard loves an other of the name.  Long. 
Am I the first that have been perjured so?  Ber. 
I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,  
Thou makest the triumpherie, the corner cap of society,  
The shape of Loves Tyburn, that hangs up Simplicity.  Long. 
I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move.  
O sweet Maria, Empress of my Love,  
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.  Ber. 
O Rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose,  
Disfigure not his Shop.  Long. 
This same shall go.  He reads the Sonnet. 
I Did not the heavenly Rhetoric of thine eye,  
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,  
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?  
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.  
A Woman I forswore, but I will prove,  
Thou being a Goddess, I forswore not thee.  
My Vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love.  
Thy grace being gained, cures all disgrace in me.  
Vows are but breath, and breathe a vapour is.  
Then thou fair Sun, which on my earth dost shine,  
Exhalst this vapour-vow in thee it is:  
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:  
If by me broke, What fool is not so wise,  
To lose an oath, to win a paradise?  Bero. 
This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity.  
A green Goose, a Goddess, pure pure ydotarie.  
God amend us, God amend, we are much out a th' way.  Enter Dumaine. Long. 
By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay.  Berow. 
All hid, all hid, an old infant play,  
Like a demie God, here sit I in the sky,  
And wretched fools secrets heedfully o'er eye.  
More Sacks to the mill. O heavens I have my wish,  
Dumain transformed, four Woodcocks in a dish.  Duma. 
O most divine Kate.  Berow. 
O most profane coxcomb.  Duma. 
By heaven the wonder in a mortal eye.  Ber. 
By earth she is not, croporall, there you lie.  Duma. 
Her Amber heirs for foul hath amber coted.  Ber. 
An amber coloured Raven was well noted.  Duma. 
As upright as the Cedar.  Ber. 
Stoop I say, her shoulder is with child.  Duma. 
As fair as day.  Ber. 
I as some days, but then no Sun must shine.  Duma. 
O that I had my wish?  Long. 
And I had mine.  King. 
And mine too good Lord.  Ber. 
Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?  Duma. 
I would forget her, but a Fever she  
Reigns in my blood, and will remembered be.  Ber. 
A Fever in your blood, why then incision  
Would let her out in Saucers, sweet misprision.  Dum. 
Once more I'll read the Odo that I have writ.  Ber. 
Once more I'll mark how Love can vary Wit.  Dumain reads his Sonnet. 
On a day, alack the day:  
Love, whose Month is ever May:  
Spied a blossom passing fair,  
Playing in the wanton air:  
Through the Velvet, leaves the wind,  
All unseen, can passage find:  
That the Lover sick to death.  
Wish himself the heavens breath.  
Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow,  
Air would I might triumph so,  
But alack my hand is sworn,  
Near to pluck thee from thy throne:  
Vow alack for youth unmeet,  
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.  
Do not call it sin in me,  
That I am forsworn for thee:  
Thou for whom jove would swear,  
juno but an Aethiop were,  
And deny himself for jove,  
Turning mortal for thy love.  
This will I send, and something else more plain.  
That shall express my true loves fasting pain.  
O would the King, Berowne, and Longavill,  
Were Lovers too, ill to example ill,  
Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note:  
For none offend, where all alike do dote.  Long. 
Dumaine thy Love is far from charity,  
That in loves grief desirest society:  
You may look pale, but I should blush I know,  
To be orehard and taken napping so.  King. 
Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such.  
You chide at him, offending twice as much.  
You do not love Maria? Longavile,  
Did never Sonnet for her sake compile,  
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart  
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.  
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,  
And marked you both, and for you both did blush.  
I heard your guilty Rhymes, observed your fashion:  
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion.  
Ay me says one! O jove the other cries!  
One her hairs were Gold, Crystal the others eyes.  
You would for paradise break Faith and troth,  
And jove for your Love would infringe an oath.  
What will Berowne say when that he shall hear  
Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear.  
How will he scorn, how will he spend his wit?  
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?  
For all the wealth that ever I did see,  
I would not have him know so much by me.  Bero. 
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.  
Ah good my Liege, I pray thee pardon me.  
Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reprove  
These Worms for loving, that art most in love?  
Your eyes do make no couches in your tears.  
There is no certain Princess that appears.  
You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing:  
Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.  
But are you not a shamed? nay, are you not  
All three of you, to be thus much o'er ' shot?  
You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:  
But I a Beam do find in each of three.  
O what a Scene of foolrie have I seen,  
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen:  
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,  
To see a King transformed to a Gnat.  
To see great Hercules whipping a Gig,  
And profound Sallomon to tune a jig.  
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,  
And Critic Timon laugh at idle toys.  
Where lies thy grief, o tell me good Dumain?  
And gentle Longavill, where lies thy pain?  
And where my lieges? all about the breast.  
A Caudle how!  King. 
Too bitter is thy jest.  
Are we betrayed thus to thy overview?  Ber. 
Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.  
I that am honest, I that hold it sin  
To break the vow I am engaged in.  
I am betrayed by keeping company  
With men like men of inconstancy.  
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?  
Or groan for Love? or spend 〈◊〉 minutes time,  
In pruning me when shall you hear that I will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a stace, a brow, a breast, a waist, a leg, a limb.  King. 
Soft, Whither away so fast?  
A true man, or a the●fe, that gall●ps so.  Ber. 
I post from Love, good Lover let me go.  jaqu. 
God bless the King.  Enter jaquenetta and Clown. King. 
What present hast thou there?  Clow. 
Some certain treason.  King. 
What makes treason here?  Clow. 
Nay it makes nothing sir.  King. 
If it mart nothing neither,  
The treason and you go in peace away together.  Iaque. 
I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,  
Our person misdoubts it: 'twas treason he said.  King. 
Berowne read it over.  He reads the letter. King. 
Where hadst thou it?  jaqu. 
Of Costard.  King. 
Where hadst thou it?  Cost. 
Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.  Kin. 
How now, What is in you? Why dost thou tear it?  Ber. 
A toy my Liege, a toy: your grace needs not fear it.  Long. 
It did move him to passion, & therefore let's hear it.  Dum. 
It is Berownes writing, and here is his name.  Berow. 
Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to do me s●●me.  
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confess, I confess.  King. 
What?  Ber. 
That you three fools, lacked me fool, to make up the mess▪  
He, he, and you▪ and you my Liege, and I,  
Are pick-purse● i● Love, and we deserve to die.  
O dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.  Duma. 
Now the number is even.  Bero. 
True true, we are four: will these turtles be gone▪  King. 
Hence sirs, away.  Clow. 
Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.  Ber. 
Sweet Lords, sweet Lovers▪ O let us embrace,  
As true we are as flesh and blood can be,  
The Sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face:  
Young blood doth not obey an old decree.  
We can not cross the cause why we were borne:  
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn.  King. 
What, did these rend lines show some love of thine?  Ber. 
Did they quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,  
That (like a rude and savage man of Ind.)  
At the first opening of the gorgeous East,  
Bows not his vassal head, and strooken blind.  
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast.  
What peromptorie Eagle-sighted eye  
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,  
That is not blinded by her majesty?  King. 
What zeal, what fury, hath inspired thee now?  
My Love (her Mistress) is a gracious Moon,  
She (an attending Star) scarce seen a light.  Berinthia 
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne,  
O, but for my Love, day would turn to night,  
Of all complexions the could sovereignty,  
Do meet as at a fair in her fair cheek,  
Where several worthies make one dignity,  
Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek.  
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,  
F●e painted Rhetoric, O she needs it not,  
To things of sale, a cellar's praise belongs:  
She passes praise, then praise too short doth blot.  
A withered Hermight fivescore winters worn,  
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:  
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,  
And gives the Crutch the Cradle's infancy.  
O 'tis the Sun that maketh all things shine.  King. 
By heaven, thy Love is black as Ebony.  Berow. 
Is Ebony like her? O word divine!  
A wife of such wood were felicity.  
O who can give an oath? Where is a book?  
That I may swear Beauty doth beauty lack,  
If that she learn not of her eye to look:  
No face is fair that is not full so black.  King. 
O paradox, Black is the badge of Hell,  
The hue of dungions, and the School of night:  
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.  Ber. 
devils soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.  
O if in black my ladies brows be decked,  
It mourns, that painting usurping hair  
Should ravish dooters with a false aspect:  
And therefore is she borne to make black fair.  
Her favour turns the fashion of the days,  
For native blood is counted painting now:  
And therefore red that would avoid dispraise,  
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.  Duma. 
To look like her are Chimnie-sweepers black.  Long. 
And since her time are Colliers counted bright.  King. 
And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crack.  Duma. 
Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light.  Ber. 
Your Mistresses dare never come in rain,  
For fear their colours should be washed away.  King. 
'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plain,  
I'll find a fairer face not washed to day.  Ber. 
I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomse-day here.  King. 
No Devil will fright thee then so much as she.  Duma. 
I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.  Long. 
Look, here's thy love, my foot and her face see.  Berinthia 
O if the streets were paved with thine eyes,  
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.  Duma. 
O vile, then as she goes what upward lies?  
The street should see as she walked over head.  King. 
But what of this, are we not all in love?  Ber. 
O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn.  King. 
Then leave this chat, and good Berowne now prove  
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.  Duma. 
I marry there, some flattery for this evil.  Long. 
O some authority how to proceed,  
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.  Duma. 
Some salve for perjury.  Ber. 
O 'tis more than need.  
Have at you then affections men at arms,  
For Charity itself fulfilles the Law:  
And who can sever Love from Charity.  King. 
Saint Cupid then and Soldiers to the field.  Berow. 
Advance your standars, and upon them Lords.  
Pell, mell, down with them: but be first advisd,  
In conflict that you get the Sun of them.  Long. 
Now to plain dealing▪ Lay these glozes by,  
Shall we resolve to woe these girls of France?  King. 
And win them too, therefore let us devise,  
Some entertainment for them in their Tents.  Ber. 
First from the Park let us conduct them thither,  
Then homeward every man attach the hand  
Of his fair Mistress, in the after noon  
We will with some strange pastime solace them:  
Such as the shortness of the time can shape,  
For Revels, Dances, Masks, and merry hours,  
Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.  King. 
Away, away, no time shallbe omitted,  
That will be time and may by us befitted.  Ber. 
Alone alone sowed Cockle, reaped no Corn,  
And justice always whirls in equal measure:  
Light Wenches may prove plagues to men for some,  
If so our Copper bees no better treasure.  Enter the Pedant, the Curate, and Dull. Pedant. 
Satis quid sufficit.  Curate. 
I praise God for you sir, your reasons at Dinner have been sharp & sententious: pleasant without scurillitie, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy: I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the kings, who is entitled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho.  Ped. 
Novi▪ hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory: his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gate majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, & thrasonical. He is too picked, to spruce, too affected, to odd as it were, too peregrinate as I may call it.  Curate. 
A most singular and choice Epithat,  Draw-out his Table-book. Peda. 
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity, finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasims, such insociable and point devise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speak rout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Cause: half, haufe: neighbour vocatur neighbour; neigh abbreviated ne: this is abominable, which he would call abominable, it insinuateth me of infamy: ●● inteligis domine, to make frantic lunatic?  Curate. 
Laus deo, bene intelligo.  Peda. 
B●me boon for boon presci●n, a little scratched, 'twil serve.  Enter Braggart, Boy. Curate. 
Vides ne quis venit?  Peda. 
Video, et gaudio.  Brag. 
Chirra.  Peda. 
Quàri Chirra, not Sirrah?  Brag. 
Men of peace well incontred.  Ped. 
Most military sir salutation.  Boy. 
They have been at a great feast of Languages, and stolen the scraps.  Clow. 
O they have lyud long on the almsbasket of words. I marvel thy M. hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.  Page. 
Peace, the peal gins.  Brag. 
monsieur, are you not lettered?  Page. 
Yes yes, he teaches boys the Hornbook: What is Ab spelled backward with the horn on his head?  Poda. 
Ba, puericia with a horn added.  Pag. 
Ba most silly Sheep, with a horn: you hear his learning.  Peda. 
Quis quis thou Consonant?  Pag. 
The last of the five Vowels if You repeat them, or the fift if I.  Peda. 
I will repeat them: a e I  Pag. 
The Sheep, the other two concludes it o u.  Brag. 
Now by the salt wane of the meditaranium, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit, snip snap, quick and home, it rejoiceth my intellect, true wit.  Page. 
Offered by a child to an old man: which is wit-old.  Peda. 
What is the figure? What is the figure?  Page. 
Horns.  Peda. 
Thou disputes like an Infant: go whip thy Gigg.  Pag. 
Lend me your Horn to make one, and I will whip about your Infamy unum cita a gig of a Cuckold's horn.  Clow. 
And 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 half penny purse of wit, thou Pidgin-egge of discretion. O and the heavens were so pleased, that thou wart but my Bastard; What a joyful father wouldst thou make me? Go to, thou hast it ad dungil at the finger's ends, as they say.  Peda. 
Oh I smell false Latin, dunghel for unguem.  Brag. 
Artsman preambulat, we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-house on the top of the Mountain?  Peda. 
Or Mons the hill.  Brag. 
At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountain.  Peda. 
I do sans question.  Bra. 
Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure & affection, to congratulate the Princess at her Pavilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.  Peda. 
The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the after noon: the word is well could, chose, sweet, & apt I do assure you sir, I do assure.  Brag. 
Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure ye very good friend: for what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee remember thy courtesy. I beseech thee apparel thy head: and among other importunt and most serious designs, and of great import in deed too: but let that pass, 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 mustachie: but sweet heart let that pass. By the world I recount no fable, some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado a Soldier, a man of travail, that hath seen the world: but let that pass; the very all of all is: but sweet heart, I do implore secrety, that the King would have me present the Princess (sweet chuck) with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or fierworke: 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 assistance.  Peda. 
Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rended by our assistants the kings command, and this most gallant illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princess: I say none so fit as to present the nine Worthies.  Curate. 
Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?  Peda. 
josua, yourself, myself, and this gallant Gentleman judas Machabeus; this Swain (because of his great limb or joint) shall pass Pompey the great, the Page Hercules.  Brag. 
Pardon sir, error: He is not quantity enough for that worthies thumb, he is not so big as the end of his Club.  Peda. 
Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shallbe strangling a Snake; and I will have an Apology for that purpose.  Page. 
An excellent device: so if any of the audience hiss, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crusshest the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it.  Brag. 
For the rest of the Worthies?  Peda. 
I will play three myself.  Page. 
Thrice worthy Gentleman.  Brag. 
Shall I tell you a thing?  Peda. 
We attend.  Brag. 
We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech you follow.  Peda. 
Via goodman Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this while.  Dull. 
Nor understood none neither sir.  Ped. 
Alone, we will employ thee.  Dull. 
I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the Taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hay.  Peda. 
Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport: away.  Exeunt. Enter the Ladies. Quee. 
Sweet hearts we shallbe rich ere we depart,  
If Fairings come thus plentifully in.  
A Lady walled about with Diamonds: Look you, what I have from the loving King.  Rosa. 
Madame, came nothing else along with that?  Quee. 
Nothing but this: yes as much love in Rhyme,  
As would be crambd up in a sheet of paper  
Writ a both sides the leaf, margin and all,  
That he was feign to seal on Cupid's name.  Rosa. 
That was the way to make his godhead Wax:  
For he hath been five thousand year a Boy.  Kath. 
I and a shroud unhappy gallows too.  Ros. 
You'll near be friends with him, a killed your sister.  Kath. 
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 Grandam ere she died.  
And so may you: For a light heart lives long.  Ros. 
What's your dark meaning mouse, of this light word?  Kath. 
A light condition in a beauty dark.  Ros. 
We need more light to find your meaning out.  Kath. 
you'll mar the light by taking it in snuff:  
Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.  Ros. 
Look what you do, you do it still i'th' dark.  Kath. 
So do not you, for you are a light Wench.  Ros. 
In deed I weigh not you, and therefore light.  Kath. 
You weigh me not, O that's you care not for me.  Ros. 
Great reason: for past care, is still past cure.  Quee. 
Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.  
But Rasaline, you have a Favour too?  
Who sent it? and what is it?  Ros. 
I would you knew.  
And if my face were but as fair as yours,  
My Favour were as great, be witness this.  
Nay I have Vearses too, I thank Berowne,  
The numbers true, and were the numbering too,  
I were the fairest Goddess on the ground.  
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.  
O he hath drawn my picture in his letter.  Quee. 
Any thing like?  Ros. 
Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.  Quee. 
Beauteous as Ink: a good conclusion.  Kath. 
Fair as a text B in a Copy book.  Ros. 
Aware pensalls, How? Let me not die your debtor,  
My red Dominical, my golden letter,  
O that your face were not so full of O's.  Quee. 
A Pox of that jest, and I beshrew all shrews.  
But Katherine what was sent to you  
From fair Dumain?  Kath. 
Madame, this Glove▪  Quee. 
Did he not send you twain?  Kath. 
Yes Madam: and moreover,  
Some thousand Verses of a faithful Lover.  
A huge translation of hypocrisy,  
Vildly compiled, profound simplicity.  Marg. 
This, and these Pearl, to me sent Longavile.  
The Letter is too long by half a mile.  Quee. 
I think no less: Dost thou not wish in heart  
The Chain were longer, and the Letter short.  Marg. 
I, or I would these hands might never part.  Quee. 
We are wise girls to mock our Lovers so.  Ros. 
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.  
That same Berowne i'll torture ere I go.  
O that I knew he wore 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 device,  
And make him proud to make me proud that jests▪  
Their several counsels they unboosome shall,  
To loves mistook, and so be mocked withal.  
Upon the next occasion that we meet,  
With Visages displayed to talk and greet.  Ros. 
But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?  Quee. 
No, to the death we will not move a foot,  
Nor to their penned speech render we no grace:  
But while 'tis spoke each turn away his face.  Boy. 
Why that contempt will kill the speakers heart,  
And quite divorce his memory from his part.  Quee. 
Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt,  
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.  
There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown:  
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own.  
So shall we stay mocking intended game,  
And they well mocked departed away with shame.  Sound Trom. Boy. 
The Trumpet sounds, be masked, the maskers come.  Enter Blackmoors with music, the Boy with a speech, and the rest of the Lords disguised. Page. 
All hail, the richest Beauties on the earth.  Berow. 
Beauties no richer than rich Taffeta.  Page. 
A holy parcel of the fairest dames that ever turned their backs to mortal views.  The Ladies turn their backs to him. Berow, 
Their eyes villain, their eyes.  Pag. 
That even turned their eyes to mortal views.  
Out  Boy. 
True, out in deed.  Pag. 
Out of your favours heavenly spirits vouchsafe  
Not to behold.  Berow. 
Once to behold, rogue.  Page. 
Once to behold with your Sun beamed eyes,  
With your Sun beamed eyes.  Boyet. 
They will not answer to that Epythat▪  
You were best call it Daughter beamed eyes.  Pag. 
They do not mark me, and that brings me out.  Ber. 
Is this your perfectness? begun you rogue.  Rosal. 
What would these stranges?  
Know their minds Boyet.  
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will  
That some plain man recount their purposes.  
Know what they would?  Boyet. 
What would you with the Princes?  Berow. 
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.  Rosa. 
What would they, say they?  Boy. 
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.  Rosa. 
Why that they have, and bid them so be gone.  Boy. 
She says you have it, and you may be gone.  King. 
Say to her we have measured many miles,  
To tread a Measure with her on this grass.  Boy. 
They say that they have measured many a mile,  
To tread a Measure with you on this grass.  Rosa. 
It is not so. Ask them how many inches  
Is in one mile? If they have measured many,  
The measure then of one is easily told.  Boy. 
If to come hither, you have measured miles,  
And many miles: the Princess bids you tell,  
How many inches doth fill up one mile?  Berow. 
Tell her we measure them by weary steps▪  Boy. 
She hears herself.  Rosa. 
How many weary steps,  
Of many weary miles you have over gone,  
Are numbered in the travail of one Mile?  Bero. 
We number nothing that we spend for you,  
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,  
That we may do it still without account.  
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,  
That we (like savages) may worship it.  Rosa. 
My face is but a Moon, and clouded too.  King. 
Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do.  
Vouchsafe bright Moon, and these thy Starts to shine,  
(Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyen.  Rosa. 
O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter,  
Thou now requests but Moonshine in the water.  King. 
Then in our measure, do but vouchsafe one change,  Quee. 
Berowne did swear himself out of all suite.  Mar. 
Dumaine was at my service, and his sword,  
No point (quoth I) my servant, strait was mute.  Kath. 
Lord Longavill said I came over his heart:  
And trow you what he called me?  Quee. 
Qualm perhapt.  Kath. 
Yes in good faith.  Quee. 
Go sickness as thou art.  Ros. 
Well, better-wits have worn plain sta●● Caps.  
But will you hear; the King is my Love sworn.  Quee. 
And quick Berowne hath plighted Faith to me.  Kath. 
And Longavill was for my service borne.  Mar. 
Dumain is mine as sure as bark on tree.  Boyet. 
Madame, and pretty mistresses give ear▪  
Immediately they will again be here,  
In their own shapes: for it can never be,  
They will digest this harsh indignity.  Quee. 
Will they return?  Boy. 
They will they will, God knows,  
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:  
Therefore change Favours, and when they repair,  
Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer air.  Quee. 
How blow? how blow? Speak to be understood.  Boy. 
Fair Ladies masked, are Roses in their bud:  
dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown,  
Are Angels varling clouds, or Roses blown.  Quee. 
Avaunt perplexity, What shall we do,  
If they return in their own shapes to woe?  Rosa. 
Good Madam, if by me you'll be advised,  
Let's mock them still as well known as disguysde:  
Let us complain to them what fools were hear,  
Disguysd like Muscovites in shapeless gear:  
And wonder what they were, and to what end  
Their shallow shows, and Prologue vildly pend▪  
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,  
Should be presented at our Tent to us.  Boyet. 
Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand,  Quee. 
Whip to our Tents as Roes runs o'er land.  Exeunt. Enter the King and the rest. King. 
Fair sir, God save you: where's the Princess?  Boyet. 
Gone to her Tent. Please it your Majesty command me any service to her thither,  King. 
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.  Boy. 
I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.  Exit. Berow. 
This fellow pecks up Wit as Pigeons Pease,  
And 〈◊〉 again when God doth please.  
He is wits peddler, and retales his wares:  
At Wakes and Wassels, meetings, markets, Fairs▪  
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,  
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.  
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeve▪  
Had he been Adam he had tempted Eue.  
A can carve to, and lisp: Why this is he  
That kissed his hand, a way in courtesy.  
This is the Ape of Form, monsieur the nice,  
That when he plays at Tables chides the Dice  
In honourable terms; nay he can sing  
A mean most meanly, and in hushering.  
mend him who can, the Ladies call him sweet.  
The stairs as he treads on them kiss his feet.  
This is the flower that smiles on every one.  
To show his teeth as white as Whale's bone.  
And consciences that will not die in debt,  
Pay him the due of honie-tonged Boyet.  King. 
A blister on his sweet tongue with my heart,  
That put Armathoes' Page out of his part.  Enter the Ladies. Bero. 
See where it comes. Behaviour what wert thou?  
Till this mad man showed thee, and what art thou now?  King. 
All hail sweet Madam, and fair time of day.  Quee. 
Fair in all Hail is foul, as I conceive.  King. 
Construe my spaches better, if you may.  Quee. 
Then wish me better, I will give you leave.  King. 
We came to visit you, and purpose now,  
To lead you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.  Quee. 
This Field shall hold me, and so hold your vow:  
Nor God nor I delights in perjured men.  King. 
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:  
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.  Que. 
You nickname virtue, vice you should have spoke:  
For virtues office never breaks men's troth.  
Now by my maiden honour yet as pure,  
As the unsallied Lily I protest,  
A world of torments though I should endure,  
I would not yield to be your houses guest:  
So much I hate a breaking cause to be  
Of heavenly Oaths vowed with integrity.  King. 
O you have lived in desolation here,  
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.  Quee. 
Not so my Lord, it is not so I swear,  
We have had pastimes here and pleasant game,  
A mess of Russians left us but of late.  King. 
How Madam? Russians?  Quee. 
I in truth My Lord.  
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state.  Rosa. 
Madame speak true: It is not so my Lord:  
My Lady (to the manner of the days)  
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.  
We four in deed confronted were with four,  
In Russian habit: here they stayed an hour,  
And talked apace: and in that hour (my Lord)  
They did not bless us with one happy word.  
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,  
When they are thirsty, fools would feign have drink.  Bero. 
This jest is dry to me, gentle sweet,  
Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greet  
Wtih eyes best seeing, heavens fiery eye:  
By light we lose light, your capacity  
Is of that nature, that to your huge store,  
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.  Rosa. 
This proves you wise and rich: for in my eye.  Bero. 
I am a fool, and full of poverty.  Rosa. 
But that you take what doth to you belong,  
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.  Ber. 
O, I am yours and all that I possess.  Rosa. 
All the fool mine.  Ber. 
I cannot give you less.  Ros. 
Which of the Vizards was it that you wore?  Ber. 
Where, when, what Vizard? why demand you this?  Rosa. 
There, then, that Vizard? that superfluous case,  
That hide the worse, and showed the better face.  King. 
We were descried, they'll mock us now dounright.  Duman. 
Let us confess and turn it to a jest.  Quee. 
Amazed my Lord? Why looks your highness sad?  Rosa. 
Help hold his brows, he'll sound: why look you pale?  
Sea sick I think coming from Muscouie.  Bero. 
Thus pooure the Stars down plagues for perjury.  
Can any face of brass hold longer out?  
Hear stand I, Lady dart thy skill at me,  
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout.  
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance▪  
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit.  
And I will wish thee never more to dance,  
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.  
O never will I trust to speeches penned,  
Nor to the motion of a Schoolboys tongue▪  
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,  
Nor woe in rhyme like a blind harper's song.  
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,  
Three piled Hiberboles, spruce affection:  
Figures pedantical, these summer flies,  
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.  
I do forswear them, and I here protest,  
By this white Glove (how white the hand God knows)  
Henceforth my wooing mind shallbe expressed  
In russet yea, and honest kersey no's.  
And to begin Wench, so God help me law,  
My love to thee is sound, sance crack or flaw▪  Rosa. 
Sans, sans, I pray you.  Bero. 
Yet I have a trick,  
Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick.  
I'll leave it by degrees; soft, let us see,  
Writ Lord have mercy on us, on those three,  
They are infected, in their hearts it lies:  
They have the Plague, and caught it of your eyes,  
These Lords are visited, you are not free,  
For the Lords tokens on you do I see.  Quee. 
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.  Berow. 
Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.  Rosa. 
It is not so, for how can this be true,  
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue.  Bero. 
Peace, for I will not have to do with you.  Rosa. 
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.  Bero. 
Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end.  King. 
Teach us sweet Madam, for our rude transgression  
Some fair excuse.  Quee. 
The fairest is confession.  
Were not you here but even now, disguysde?  King. 
Madame, I was.  Quee. 
And were you well advised?  King. 
I was fair Madam.  Quee. 
When you then were here,  
What did you whisper in your Lady's ear?  King. 
That more than all the world, I did respect her.  Quee. 
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.  King. 
Upon mine honour no.  Quee. 
Peace peace, forbear: your Oath once broke, you force not to forswear.  King. 
Despise me when I break this oath of mine.  Quee. 
I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline,  
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?  Rosa. 
Madame, he swore that he did hold me dear,  
As precious eyesight, and did value me  
Above this World: adding thereto more over,  
That he would wed me, or else die my Lover.  Quee. 
God give thee joy of him: the Noble Lord  
Most honourably doth uphold his word▪  King. 
What mean you Madam: by my life my troth,  
I never swore this Lady such an oath.  Rosal. 
By heaven you did; and to confirm it plain,  
You gave me this: but take it sir again.  King. 
My faith and this, the Princess I did give,  
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.  Quee. 
Pardon me sir, this jewel did she wear,  
And Lord Berowne (I thank him) is my dear.  
What? will you have me, or your Pearl again?  Berow. 
Neither of either: I remit both twain.  
I see the trick an't: here was a consent,  
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,  
To dash it like a Christmas Comedy:  
Some carry tale, some please-man, some sleight sane:  
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 intentes before: which once disclosed,  
The Ladies did change Favours; and then we  
Following the signs, wood but the sign of she▪  
Now to our perjury, to add more terror,  
We are again forsworn in will and error.  
Much upon this 'tis: and might not you  
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?  
Do not you know my Lady's foot byth' squire?  
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 aloud.  
Die when you will, a Smock shallbe your shroud.  
You leer upon me, do you: there's an eye  
Wounds like a leaden sword.  Boyet. 
Full merely hath this brave nuage, this career been run.  Bero. 
Lo, he is tilting strait. Peace, I have done.  Enter Clown. Ber. 
Welcome pure wit, thou partest a fair fray.  Clow. 
O Lord sir, they would know,  Bero. 
My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.  Enter Curate for Alexander. Curate. 
When in the world I lived, I was the worlds commander:  
By East, West, North, and South, I spread my conquering might:  
My Scutcheon plain declares that I am Alexander.  Boyet. 
Your Nose says no, you are not: for it stands too right.  Be. 
Your nose smells no in his most tender smelling knight.  Qu. 
The conqueror is dismayed: proceed good Alexander.  Cura. 
When in the world I lived, I was the worlds commander.  Boy. 
Most true, 'tis right: you were so Alexander.  Bero. 
Pompey the great.  Clow. 
Your servant and Costard.  Bero. 
Take away the Conqueror, take away Alexander.  Clow. 
O sir, you have overthrown Alexander the Conqueror: you will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this. Your Lion that holds his Pole-axe sitting on a close stool, will be given to Ajax. He willbe the ninth Worthy: a Conqueror, and a feared to speak? Run away for shame Alexander. There ant shall please you a foolish mild man, an honest man; look you, and soon dash●. He is marvelous good neighbour faith, and a very good Bowler: but for Alexander, alas you see how 'tis a little oreparted, but there are Worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.  Exit Curate. Quee. 
Stand aside good Pompey.  Enter Pedant for judas, and the Boy for Hercules. Peda. 
Great Hercules is presented by this Imp,  
Whose Club killed Cerberus that three headed Canus,  
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.  Exit Boy. Peda. 
judas I am.  Dum. 
A judas.  Pedan. 
Not Iscariot sir.  
judas I am, yclept Machabeus.  Dum. 
judas Machabeus clipped, is plain judas.  Bero. 
A kissing traitor. How art thou proud judas?  Peda. 
judas I am.  Duma. 
The more shame for you judas.  Peda. 
What mean you sir?  Boyet. 
To make judas hang himself.  Pedan. 
Begin sir, you are my elder.  Bero. 
Well followed, judas was hanged on an Flder▪  Pedan. 
I will not be put out of countenance.  Bero. 
Because thou hast no face.  Pedan. 
What is this?  Boyet. 
A Cithern head.  Duma. 
The head of a Bodkin.  Bero. 
A death's face in a Ring.  Long. 
The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.  Boyet. 
The pummel of Caesar's Falchion.  Duma. 
The carud-bone face on a Flask.  Bero. 
Saint George's half cheek in a Brooch.  Duma. 
I and in a Brooch of Lead.  Bero. 
I and worn in the cap of a Tooth-drawer:  
And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance.  Peda. 
You have put me out of countenance.  Bero. 
False, we have given thee faces.  Peda. 
But you have outfaste them all.  Bero. 
And thou wert a Lion, we would do so.  Boyet. 
Therefore as he is, an Ass, let him go:  
And so adve sweet jude. Nay, Why dost thou stay?  Duma. 
For the latter end of his name.  Bero. 
For the Ass to the Jude: give it him. Judas away▪  Pedan. 
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.  Boyet. 
A light for monsieur Judas, it grows dark, he may stumble.  Quee. 
Alas poor Machabeus, how hath he been baited.  Eeter Braggart. Ber. 
Hid thy head Achilles, here comes Hector in Arms.  Duma. 
Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.  King. 
Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.  Boyet. 
But is this Hector?  King. 
I think Hector was not so clean timbered.  Long. 
His Leg is too big for Hector's.  Duman. 
More Calf certain.  Boy. 
No, he is best endued in the small.  Bero. 
This cannot be Hector.  Duma. 
he's a God or a Painter: for he makes faces.  Braggart. 
The Armipotent Mars, of Lances the almighty, gave Hector a gift.  Duma. 
A gift Nutmegg.  Bero. 
A lemon.  Long. 
Stuck with Cloves.  Dum. 
No cloven.  Brag. 
Peace. The Armipotent Mars, of Lances the almighty,  
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Illium,  
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea,  
From morn till night out of his Pavilion.  
I am that Flower.  Dum. 
That Mint.  Long. 
That Cullambine.  Brag. 
Sweet Lord Longavill rain thy tongue.  Long. 
I must rather give it the rain: for it runs against Hector.  Dum. 
I and Hector's a Greyhound.  Brag. 
The sweet Warman 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; sweet royalty bestow on me the sense of hearing.  Berowne steps forth. Quee. 
Speak brave Hector, we are much delighted.  Brag. 
I do adore thy sweet Grace's Slipper.  Boyet 
loves her by the foot.  Dum. 
He may not by the yard.  Brag. 
This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,  The party is gone. Clow. 
Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.  Brag. 
What meanest thou?  Clow. 
Faith unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly already: 'tis yours.  Brag. 
Dost thou infamonize me among potentates:  
Thou shalt die.  Clow. 
Then shall Hector be whipped for jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.  Duma. 
Most rare Pompey.  Boyet. 
Renowned Pompey.  Bero. 
Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the huge.  Dum. 
Hector trembles.  Bero. 
Pompey is moved more Ate's more Atees stir them or stir them on.  Duma. 
Hector will challenge him.  Bero. 
I, if a'haue no more man's blood in his belly then w sup a Flea.  Brag. 
By the North Pole I do challenge thee.  Clow. 
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.  Duma. 
Room for the incensed Worthies.  Clow. 
I'll do it in my shirt.  Duma. 
Most resolute Pompey.  Page. 
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.  Brag. 
Gentlemen and Soldiers, pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt.  Duma. 
You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.  Brag. 
Sweet bloods, I both may and will.  Bero. 
What reason have you for't.  Brag. 
The naked truth of it is, I have no Shirt.  
I go Woolward for penance.  Boy. 
True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of Linen: since when, I'll be sworn he wore none, but a dish-cloute of Jaquenetta●s, and that a wears next his heart for a Favour.  Entèr a Messenger monsieur Mercade. Marcad. 
God save you Madam.  Quee. 
Welcome Mercade, but that thou interrupptest our merriment.  Marcad. 
I am sorry Madam for the news I bring is heavy in my tongue. The King your father  Quee. 
Dead for my life.  Marcad. 
Even so: my tale is told.  Ber. 
Worthies away, the Scene gins to cloud.  Brag. 
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 Worthys King. 
How fares your Majesty?  Quee. 
Boyet prepare, I will away to night.  King. 
Madam Not so, I do beseech you stay.  Quee. 
Prepare I say: I thank you gracious Lords  
For all your fair endeavours and entreat:  
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,  
In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,  
The liberal opposition of our spirits,  
If overboldly we have borne ourselves,  
In the converse of breath (your gentleness  
Was guilty of it.) Farewell worthy Lord:  
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue.  
Excuse me so coming too short of thanks,  
For my great suit, so easily obtained.  King. 
The extreme parts of time extremely forms,  
All causes to the purpose of his speed:  
And often at his very lose decides  
That, which long process could not arbitrate.  
And though the mourning brow of progeny  
Forbidden the smile courtecie of Love,  
The holy suit which feign it would convince,  
Yet since loves argument was first on foot,  
Let not the cloud of Sorrow justle it  
From what it purposed, since to wail friends lost,  
Is not by much so holdsome profitable,  
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.  Quee. 
I understand you not, my griefs are double.  Bero. 
Honest plain words, best pierce the ear of grief,  
And by these badges understand the King,  
For your fair sakes, have we neglected time.  
Played fouleplay with our oaths: your beauty Ladies  
Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours  
Even to the opposed end of our intents.  
And what in us hath seemed ridiculous:  
As Love is full of unbefitting strains,  
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain.  
Formed by the eye, and therefore like the eye.  
Full of straying shapes, of habits and of forms▪  
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll.  
To every varied object in his glance:  
Which party quoted presence of lose love  
Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes,  
Have misbecombd 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  
To those that make us both fair Ladies you.  
And even that falsehood in itself a sin,  
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.  Quee. 
We have received your Letters, full of Love:  
Your Favours, ambassadors of love.  
And in our maiden counsel rated them,  
At courtship pleasantiest and courtecie,  
As bombast and as lining to the time:  
But more devout than this our respects,  
Have we not been, and therefore met your Loves,  
In their own fashion like a merriment.  Dum. 
Our letters madame, showed much more than jest.  Long. 
So did our looks.  Rosa. 
We did not coat them so.  King. 
Now at the latest minute of the hour,  
Grant us your loves.  Quee. 
A time me thinks too short,  
To make a world-without-end bargain in:  
No no my Lord, your Grace is perjured much,  
Full of dear guiltiness, and therefore this,  
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 the annual reckoning.  
If this Austere insociable life,  
Change not your offer made in heat of blood.  
If ●ro●●es and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,  
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your Love:  
But that it bear this trial, and last Love,  
Then at the expiration of the year,  
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts:  
And by this Virgin palm now kissing thine,  
I wi●be thine: and till that instance shut  
My woeful self up in a mourning house,  
Raining the tears of lamentation,  
For the remembrance of my Father's death.  
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,  
Neither intiled in the others 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 herit then my heart, is in thy breast.  Berow. 
And what to me my Love? and what to me?  Rosal. 
You must be purged to, your sins are racked.  
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 weighed beds of people sick.  Duma. 
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.  Duma. 
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 smothfast wooers say,  
Come when the King doth to my Lady come:  
Then if I have much love, I'll give you some.  Duma. 
I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.  Kath. 
Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.  Longavill. 
What says Maria?  Mari. 
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.  Mari. 
The liker you, few taller are so young.  Berow. 
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.  Rosa. 
Oft have I heard of you my Lord Berowne,  
Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue  
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,  
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts:  
Which you on all estetes will execute,  
That lie within the mercy of your wit  
To weed this wormwood from your fructfull 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.  Berow. 
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?  
It cannot be, it is impossible.  
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.  Rosal. 
Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,  
Whose influence is begot of that lose grace,  
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools,  
A jests prosperity lies in the ear,  
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue  
Of him that makes it: then if sickly ears  
Deafed with the clamours of their own dear groans,  
Will hear your idle scorns; continue then,  
And I will have you, and that fault withal.  
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,  
And I shall find you empty of that fault,  
Right joyful of your reformation.  Berow. 
A twelvemonth? well; befall what will befall,  
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an Hospital.  Queen. 
I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leave.  King. 
No Madam, we will bring you on your way.  Berow. 
Our wooing doth not end like an old Play:  
jacke hath not Gill: these Lady's courtesy  
Might well have made our sport a Comedy.  King. 
Come sir, it wants a twelvemonth an aday.  
And then 'twill end.  Berow. 
That's too long for a Play.  Enter Braggart. Brag. 
Sweet Majesty vouchsafe me.  Queen. 
Was not that Hector?  Duma. 
The worthy Knight of Troy.  Brag. 
I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave.  
I am a Votary; I have vowed to jaquenetta  
To hold the Plough for her sweet love three year.  
But most esteemed greatness, will you hear the Dialogue that the two Learned men have compiled, in praise of the Owl and the Cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show.  King. 
Call them forth quickly, we will do so.  Brag. 
Holla, Approach.  Enter all. Brag. 
This side is Hiems, Winter.  
This Ver, the Spring: The one maintained by the Owl, th' other by the Cuckoo.  B. 
Ver begin.  

The Song.  


When Daisies pied, and Violets blue,  
And Cuckow-budds of yellow hue:  
And Ladi-smockes all silver white,  
Do paint the Meadows with delight:  
The Cuckoo then on every tree,  
Mocks married men; for thus singes he,  
Cuckoo.  
Cuckoo, Cuckoo: O word of fear,  
Unpleasing to a married ear.   

When Shepherds pipe on Oaten Straws,  
And merry Larks are ploughmen's Clocks:  
When Turtles tread and Rooks and Daws,  
And Maidens bleach their summer smocks:  
The Cuckoo then on every tree,  
Mocks married men, for thus singes he,  
Cuckoo.  
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,  
Unpleasing to a married ear.    

Winter.  

When Isacles hang by the wall,  
And Dick the Shepherd blows his nail:  
And Thom bears Logs into the hall,  
And Milk comes frozen home in pail:  
When Blood is nipped, and ways be full,  
Then nightly singes the staring Owl  
Tu-whit to-who.  
A merry note,  
While greasy jone doth keel the pot.   

When all aloud the wind doth blow,  
And coughing drowns the Parsons saw▪  
And Birds sit brooding in the Snow,  
And Marrians nose looks red and raw:  
When roasted Crabs hiss in the bowl,  
Then nightly singes the staring Owl,  
Tu-whit to-who.  
A merry note,  
While greasy jone doth keel the pot.     The words of Mercury, are harsh after the songs of Apollo. 
FINIS.