A; Ai Oi 0: 1 \ 41 01 3i 1 I 1 j 81 SHAKESPEARE Love's Labour's Lost Lov. ': LABOUR'S LOST. A (■( M ■\A^3- 'BI=(.E. % \ Mtmt FIFTH AVENUE THEATRE, FOR THE FIRS'l HME ON THE NEW YOR^ GE, -TED F' 1- : O ivi i s.^ , . ,- !WI P i 1 \ MR. AUGUSTIN DALY ^': VV YORK ; W, MORK:-;t>EY, PUBLISHKK Nof i: ".141 « '. ■ nUcf-tr..'. N > / "^-5- STEVENS ,& CO., eM,..^._ J .M,,„;,f.i|liirers of 1^ INK Jl^nt^ELKY AND SILVEF^WAH-i^. SPECIAL ATTENTIOX PAID TO THE RESETTING OF DIAMONDS. 839 BROADWAY, N. Y. "1 WILL':AM THOMSON. •nookjseller ai]d Station er,: 1I07 i^ROADWAY, NEA^ YORK. Wedding Invitations and Visiting Cards, Crests and Monog.'/ims engraved and stamped on Note Paper, &c. FinOVallets, Card-Cases, and Pocket Cutlery. French and English Note Papers in all the new SANTA BARBARA LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. " Love's Labour's Lost" ip'the third of tbe stndicd and elaborate revivals of Shakesperean Comedy which Mr. Dalt has cflcrcd at the Fifth Avcr.iie Theatre. The previous revivals were commeDCcd with " Twdfih Might" and "The Merry Wives of Windsor." The interest which such an event must necessarily create is of that kind ■which passes beyond merely dramatic circles, and engages the attention of littera- teurs, and in a more general way of every observer of the progress of art in the United States. " Love's Labour's Lost" has never been acted in the City of New York, or, if it has, there is at least no record extant of any such performance. A brief but unimportant revival took place, uowever, in 1858 at the Arch Street Theatre, Philadelphia. It is nearly thirty-five years ago since the play was acted in London, the last performance being at the Covent Garden Theatre, in September, 1839. Though the play is thus unfamiliar to the stage, it is one of the best known in the ckiset, and possesses an especial interest in the fact that it is one of the oldest in the language. ''Love's Labour's Lost" is conceded to be the first play which Shakespeare wrote, the great dramatist being then thirty years of age. Mr. Maloiie is of opinion that Shakespeare commenced to write for the stage in his twenty-seventh year, (1591.) Ilis first work, accord- ing to his own statement, was "Venus and Adonis," which was not published, however, until 1593. Malone places the production of " Love's Labour's Lost" at 1594, but Coleridge thinks that it must have been planned much earlier — no doubt before the dramati-t left Stratford and went up to London. He thinks that it was a boyish production, which was afterward retouched and improved, and in sustaiument of this view observes that the chaiacters in the play are such as a country town and school-boy's observation might supply. In one of his essays the same writer observes: "Yet, if this juvenile drama had been the only one extant of our Shakespeare, and we possessed the tradition only of his riper works, or accounts of them in some writers who had not even men- tioned this play, how many of Shakespeare's characteristic features might we not still have discovered in 'Love's Labour's Lost,' though a? on a portrait of him taken in his boyhood." In respect to the characters of the drama, however, Coleridge observes that they may nor be the fruits of observation, but imper- sonated out of Shakespeare's own multiformity, for, he says, the transrendent genius in its very earliest utterances produced marvels of outline or suggestion, as in riper years it produced wonders of finish and perfect form. In " Love's Labour's Lost," at all events, there iw the budding of Shake- speare's genius. The composition was begun when he was a boy, probably as a work of delicate fancy, when the stimulating suggestions of a stage representa- tion were not yet present to his mind. It was not prepared in expectation of and to meet the exigencies of any theatrical performance, and for this reason its very novelty of construction and simplicity of action are particular merits. The first draft of "Love's Labour's Lost" took the form of a pretty pastoral dramatic poem, but when it was given to the world, near the time of its author's ripe manhood, it bad been carefully revised, and many addi ions had been made to it. The comic element was, i)robabIy. then enriched with new sugges- tions, for only the experienced phiywriglit s;iw the attractiveness of a some- what lower stratum of humor by wh ch audiences might be amused. At this time the pageant or mime at the end of the fifth act occurred to the mind 6£ • the dramatist, and so was added to gratify the taste for quaint device and broad fiin. " There is no play," says Dr. Johnson, " which has moro evident mtirks of ihu haii'l of Shikespcare." and this m:iy mean the hand of genius at its zeniih retonciiing the less biilliant produclion cf earlier years. It has been conceded by nearly all Shakespearean wi iters who haveadvcrtcd to the topic, that the chief personages in "Love's Labonr's Los*/' arc the first sketches or sn,'gestions from which the better-known character? in some of ihe author's later comedies have been developed. Thus, as Coleridge cibserves, ^liiron. and 7?o»v/i/?e are the prc-cxistent st:ite of IJeneciict i\ud Beaiiice ;'" Annido is the original of Malvolio in "Twelfth Night;" CoUarit. tlie clown, foreshadows th.j whole range of ShakcspearcV clowns and fools— 6'oW/O, To'ich- «to/(«^ and the likr. DiiU U the original of TJoy^e/jy, llolofimcs of 6iv Hugh Ecuns, NuLlianiel oi JiiHice Swallow, JciQueneila (t[ yli/c/rey, and so on. It nijst bo an es.i lisito plea-nre to see, in this fir^t play of .Shakespeare, the germs of the subsequent flower and fruit of draniatic personality. It may seem amazing that in this one play all ihe multiform characters of Shakespeare's mature genius i-honld be gathered and condensed, bnt Coleridge jmls llio matter wol; when he says that true genius begins by generalizing' and condensing, and ends by realizing and expanding— it first collects the seeds. In this view, " Love's Labour's Lost" is the seed of neatly all the author's subsequent come- dies. The scene of the i)lay bears an entirely sylvan aspect. The forcft glades of " As You Like It" and the garden scanes of " Much Ado About Nothing" are all here, lis loves are pastor.il. the utterances of its characters are fraught with poesy, and the quibs and quibbles ol wit are full of health and tone. The plot of ''Love's Labour's Lost," which rests upon a '' whimsical deter- mination" of the King of Navarre and three gentlemen of his court to retire from the world for three years, and forsake all gayeties and the blandishments of the fair sex, is not quite improbable, as Coleridge observes, to those who aro familiar with the histoiy of the middle ages, with their courts of love, and all that drapery of chivalry which engaged even mighty kiuLS. This sort of story, tho *ame writer urges, was admirably suited to Shakespeare's times when the En- glish court was still the foster mother of the State ai d of the masses. The arii- val of the Princess of France and her ladies to gain audience ol the King, the forced abandonment of their seclusion by the wou'.d-be hermits, the inevitable result by which all the vows of celibacy and occlusion are made to disappear, and the retaliation of the ladies, form a main plot of perfect structure, and wliich. if simple, is at least admirably adapted to a pastoral sto.y. The minor, or collateral plot, too, wherein Lon Armado, the lofty knight, descends to woo the rustic wench Jaqennella, and breaks himself the ban of 'non-intercourse" with the fair sex by courting the very prisoner that he holds in custody for listening to the rustic love-making of the clown Costafd, is most agreeably diverting, and is ad- mirably interwoven through the general texture of the play. Some of tliejmost felicitous expressions, figures, and observations in Shako- epeare's writings occur in "Love's Labour's Lost," and therein arc found some of the most-frequently quoted lines. It is, besides, characterized by the most won- derful activity of thought. The comedy is, in one respect, a satire on the afltecta- tion of language which in Sliakespearc's time marked the conversation of courtiers, men of wit, and even the sermons of the churchmen. It is also a satire on the tendencies which then existed in the direction of i)hilo9ophieal discussion, hairsplitting, and argument. The clowns lake up th'j custom, and misuse most vilely the words and phrases of their betters. Don Armado indulges in bombast, and Dr. Ililifenw in pedantic pleasantries, and even the language of the best of them abounds in rhetoric. Take the play all in all— its characters and its scenes— it Is like an illuminated little page, wherein nearly all of Shakespeare's many cliaracters. grouped together without regard to place, smile at us from the picture, and invite us to a sitting with the jovial company within. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. CHARACTERS AND CAST; Covcnt Garden Fifth Ave. Thc.ifrc, 'J'licniio. Feb. 41^t, 1574. Sept. :W;li. 1830. FERDINAND, Kino: of Navarre Mr. D. 11. H.-iikiii? Mr. Cooper. Biroii I F.ivoi-iles 1 Mr. (iuorj,a' Clarko Mr. Audurson. Loiii.'avillc..-! of tlio Kind's J- Mr. Loiii:^ Janius Sir. Fiix .laiiics, J)mnaiu ( Court,. ) j\lr. Hart Conway. Mr. J. Viiiiiii;. Boyct j Of tlU! i'riii- | Mr. F. Harduubcrg Mr. F Mailiuw?. Mercado ) ce-y's «iiiio. ( Mr. J. Duvuaii Mr. W. H. Payuo ])oii Adrinio du Armado Mr. t liarles Fisher Mr. Harli-y. Sir Nalhaniul, tlic I'ajsoii Mr. D. W'liitiii^ Mr. Meadows. Hololoriio-', tlu! Sciioolmaster Mr. W. David^'c Mr. l!,-iiili'y. Dull, thu Constable Mr. O. Fawcclt Mr. (iranl.y. Costard, a Country Clown Mr. .James Luwis Mr. Keoley. Moih, I\->t,'c; to Don Adriaiio Miss s. C<>n;;dou Miss Lee. A Forc-ier Mr. F. (.Miapnian Mr. C J. Smitli The Princess of France Miss Ada Dvas Mis. Nislieit. Rosaline... I Favorites j Miss Kannv Davenport. Mad Vestris. Maria < of the V Miss Sara Jewelt MissE Phillips. Katharine ( Princess's suite. ) Miss Nina Varian Miss Charles. Jaqueuetta, a Country Weuch Miss Nellie Mortimer. .Mrs. Uumby. CnAUACTERS IN THE PAGEAN'T OF THE NINE ■WOUTHIE?, Pompcy the Great hy Costard, the Clown. Ale.xander the Conqueror by Nathaniel, the Parson. Judas Macabecs by HololVrnes, the Sclioohuaster, The Infant Hercules by Moih, ihe Pa;:e. Hector thcMighty by Don Adriauo, the Spauiard. CHARACTERS IN THE TINALE. Ileims. or Winter by Mr. J. G. Pcakcs>. Ver, or Spriug by Gretohcu, Lords, Ladies, Pages, Shepherds, and Shephcrdcssoa "LovE's "Labour's _/Ost. ACT I. SCENE I. — Navarre — a Park, with a Palace in it — a Terrace, with steps leadifig to it. jEnter the King, BiROiJ, Longaville, DvMAitJ, from the r.^ and down c. King, (c.) Brave conquerors ! for so you are, That war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world's desires, — Our late edict shall strongly stand in force : Navarre shall be the wonder of the world. You three, Biron, Duniain, and Longaville, 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 passed, and now subscribe your names; That his own hand may strike his honour down, That violates the smallest branch herein. Lo7i. (r. c.) I am resolved : 'tis but a three years' fast ; The mind shall banquet, though the body pine ; Fat paunches have lean pates ; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits. [ Takes the paper, goes up, and signs, Dii7n. (r. c.) My loving lord, Dumain is mortified. The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves : To love, lo wealth, to pomp, I pine and die ; With all these living in philosophy. [ Goes tip, and signs. Binvi. (l.) 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 enrolled 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 enrolled there : And then, to sleep but three hours in the night. And not be seen to wink of all the day ; Oh, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep ; Not to see ladies, — study, — fast, — not sleep. King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please j I only swore to study with your grace, And stay here in your court for three years' space. Lon. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest. Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. King. Well, sit you out ; go home, Biron — adieu ! Biron. 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 swore, And bide the penance of each three years' day. Give me the paper, let me read the same ; And to the strict'st decrees, I'll write my name. King. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame ! Byron. [^Reading.'} "Ite?n, That no woman shall come within a mile of jny court. — " Hath this been proclaimed? Lon. Four days ago. Biron. Let's see the penalty. \Reading\ " 0?i pain of losing her tongue. ' ' Who devised this penalty ? Lon. Marry, that did I. Biron. A dangerous law against gentility. \Reading?[ *'Ltem, If ajiy man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall etidure such public shame as the rest of the court shall possibly devise. ' ' This article, my liege, yourself must break ; For, well you know, here comes in embassy The French King's daughter, with yourself to speak, — About surrender-up of Aquitain To her decripit, sick, and bed-rid father: Tlierefore, this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. King. ^Vhat say you, lords? wliy, this was quite forgot. We must, offeree, dispense with this decree; She must lie here on mere necessity. Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years' space: .\If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, I am forsworn on mere necessity. — So to the laws at large I write my name : {Signs, And he that breaks them in the least degree, Slands in attainder of eternal shame: \Comes forward, r. Suggestions are to others, 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 ? King. Ay, that there is : our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveller of Spain ; A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain : One Avhom 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 finicy, Don Armado hight. For interim to our studies, shall relate. In high-born words, the worth of many a knight From tawny Spain, lost in the world's 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. Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. King. Costard the swain, and he, shall be our sport ; And, so to study, three years is but short. Enter Dull, with a letter, r. i. ^., followed by Costard, Dull. Which is the king's own person? Bir'on. This, fellow; what wouldst ? Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am liis grace's tharborough : but 1 would see his own person in flesh and blood. Biron. This is he. Dull. \^Knceling/\ Signior Arme — Arme — commends you. There's villany abroad ; this letter will tell you more. Cos. (r. c.) bir, the contempts thereof are as touching mc. King. A letter froni the magnificent Armado. Biron. How low soever ths matter, I hope in Heav'n for high words. Cos. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner. Biron. In what manner ? Cos. In manner and form following, sir; all those three; I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park. Now, sir, for the manner — it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman : for (he form — in some form. King. Will you hear this letter with attention? Biron. As sve would hear an oracle. Cos. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. King. \_Rcading^ '■^ Great deputy, the welkin^ s viec-gerent, and sole doniinatnr of Navarre, my soul' s earthly God, and body' s fostering patron Cos. Not a word of Costard yet. King. \_Keadi7ig.'] So it is. Cos. It may be so : but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so so. Not a w;.rd of Costard yet. King. Peace ! Cos. — be to me, and every man that dares not fight ! King. [^Reading.'l " So it is, besieged with sable-colored melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing huvwur to the most luholesome physic of thy health-giving air ; arid as I am a gejitleman, betook myself to walk.'" Cos. Not a word of Costard yet. \ King. [Still reading. ] " The time when ? About the sixth hour when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down 8 to that nourishment which is called supper. So much for the time when (^Looking up and smiling to the Lords, who laugh together. Cos. {To Dull.) Not a word of Costard yet. King. {Resuming the letter.'] ^'■Now for the groujid which ; which, I mean, I walked upon. It is ycleped thy park. Then for the place where ; where, I mean, I did encounter that ob- scetie and tnost preposterous eve?it, that draweth from my snow- white pen the ebon-colored ink, ivhich here thou viewest, behold- est, survey est, or seest. {^Pausing, and laiighing. ) Cos. Not a word of Costard yet". King. {Reading^ '^'•But to the place where, — // standeth north-norih-east atid by east from the west corner of th\> curious knotted garden. There did I see that l^w-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy mirth, Cos. {Jubilantly afid x'g to King.'] Me ! King. — ' ' that unletterd small-knowing soul, Cos. Me. King. — " that shallow vassal, Cos. Still me. King. — "which as I retnetnber^ hight Costard, Cos. O me ! King. — "sorted, a7id coftsorted, contrary to thy established proclairned edict and continent canon, with — with — O with — but with this I passion to say wherewith, Cos. With a wench. King. — " with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female: or, for thy more sweet u?iderstandi?ig, a woman. Him I (as my ever esteemed duty pricks me on) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Antony Dull; a ma?i of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation. Dull. {Coming to King.] Me, an't shall please yoii ; I am Antony Dull. King. — " For Jaquenetta {so is the weaker vessel called, which I apprehend with the aforesaid swain), I keep her as a vessel of thy law' s 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." King. Well, sirrah, what say you to this ? Cos. Sir, I confess the wench. King. Did you hear the proclamation ? Cos. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it. King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence : You shall fast a week with bran and water. Cos. I had rather pray a month with mutton and por- ridge. King. A.nd Don Armado shall be your keeper. — My lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er. — \_Going up c] And go we, lords, to put in practice, that Which each to other has so strongly sworn. \_ExeuntYimQ,, Longaville, dt«^DuMAiN, up c. and off l.] Bit on, [^Looking after King.'] I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. — \^To Costard. Sirrah, come on. \_Crossing to l.] Cos. I suffer for the truth, sir : for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl ; and there- fore. Welcome the sour cup of prosperity ! [^Biron laughs.'] Affliction may one day smile again, and till then. Sit thee down, sorrow ! \^Exeunt L.] Efiter Armado and Moth from r. and down steps c. Artn. [c] Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy? Moth. [r. c] a great sign, sir, that he will look sad. 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. I think scorn to sigh ; methinks, I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: What great men have been in love? Moth. Hercules, master. Arfti. Most sweet Hercules ! — More authority, dear boy, name more ; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage. Moth. Sampson, 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 Sampson! strong-jointed Sampson ! I da excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carry- ing gates. I am in love, too, — Who was Sampson's love, my dear Moth ? Moth. A woman, master. Arm. Of Avhat complexion ? Motli. Of all the four, or the three, or the two ; or one of the four. Ann. Tell me precisely of what complexion ? Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir. Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, sir ; and the best of them, too. Ann. Green, indeed, is the color of lovers; but to have a love of that color, mcthinks Sampson had small reason for it. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar? Moth. The world was very guilty of such a ballad 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. Arm. I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that country-girl, that I took in the park with the hind Costard; she deserves well. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. Moth. \_Crossmg to 'L.'] And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. Arm. I say, sing. Moth. Forbear till this company be past. Enter Dull, Costard, a u.'i ]aqveuett a, from the l. Dull. Sir, the king's pleasure is that you keep Costard safe : and you must let him 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 allowed for thc"day-woman. Fare you wett." {^Gocs'vp, c. Arm. \Aside.'\ I do betray myself with blushing. — Maid. Jaq. Man . Arm. \_Taking her hand.'\ I will visit thee at the lodge. Jaq. That's hereby. Arm. I know where it is situate. Jaq. Lord, how wise you are ! Arm. I will tell thee wonders. — \Sighing^ Jaq. With that face? Arm. I love thee. Jaq. So I heard you say. Arm. And so f:n'ewell. Jaq. Fair weather after you ! Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. \_Exeu!it Dull and Jaqucuctta, up c. and off v.. Arm. [To Cosiard.'] Villain, thou shalt fast for thy of- fences ere thou be pardoned. Cos. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach. A}-m. Thou shalt be heavily punished. Cos. I am more bound to you, than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded. Arm. Take away this villain ; shut him up. Moth. [Crossing lo Cosl.] Come, you transgressing slave; away. Cos. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast, being loose, Mol/i. No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison. Cos. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see Moth. What shall some see? Cos. Nay, nothing, master 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 Heaven, I have as little patience as another man ; and, therefore, I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth and Cosiard, c. L, Arm. [Looking after Jaquenetta and sig/iing.'] I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe, which is baser, 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 Sampson was so tempted ; and he had an excellent strength : yet was Solomon so seduced ; and he had a very good wit. Cupid's buttshaft is too hard • 13 for Hercules' club, and therefore too much odds for a Span- iard's rapier. The passado he respects not, the duello he re- gards not: His disgrace is to be called boy; but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valor ! rust, rapier ! be still, drum 1 for your manager is in love ; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall turn son- net. Devise wit ; write pen ; for I am for whole volumes in folio. [£xi^, c. END OF ACT I. ACT II. SCENE I. — Another part of the Park — The E7icampment of the Princess and her Suite — Princesses' Tent L. c. — Tent of Boyet and Lords R. c. Enter the Princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Kathe- RiNE from tent L., Boyet, Lords, and Attendants, from tent R. Boyet. (r. c.) Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits ; Consider who the king your father sends j To whom he sends ; and what's his embassy : Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem, To parley with the sole inheritor Of all perfections that a man may owe. Matchless Navarre : the plea of no less weight Than Aquitain ; 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. Pri. (c.) Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. Than you much willing to be counted wise 13 In spending your wit in the praise of mine. But to our task ; all telling fame Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, Till painful study shall out-wear three years, No woman may approach his silent court : Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To knovv 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 despatch. Importunes personal conference with his grace. Haste signify so much ; \_Boyei crosses fo'L.'] while we attend. Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will. Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. \^Exit'L.y followed by Lords. Pri. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. Who are the votaries, my loving dames, \Seats, R. c] That are vow fellows with this virtuous king? Maria, Longaville is one. Pri. Know you the man ? Mar. (r.) Well, indeed, madam ; at a marriage feast, In Normandy saw I this Longaville ; A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed ; Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms : Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. Pri. Who are the rest ? Kat. (l. c.) The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'dj 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 Alenqon's once ; And much too little of that good I saw, Is my report to his great worthiness. Ros. (l. c.) Another of these students at that time Was there with him : If I have heard a truth, M Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, "Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal ; His eye begets occasion for liis wit : For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; Aged ears play truant at his talcs, And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluable is his discourse. fr/. God bless my ladies! arc the all in love; Tliat every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornamenis of praise? Mar. \Look\iigflff, L.] Here comes Boyet. {Princess rises. Re- cuter Bo vet a7id Attendants, L. Pri. Now, what admittance, lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he, and liis competitors in oath, Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady, Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt, He rather means to lodge you in the field, (Like one that comes here to besiege his court," Than seek a dispensation for his oath. To let you enter his unpeopled house. Here comes Navarre. \_The ladies mask, and Rosaline Joins the other ladies beside the Princess. Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Birox, and Attendants, L. King (l. c.) Fair princess, welcome to the court of Na- varre. Pri. (r. c.) 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 wild fields too base to be mine. King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. Pri. I will be welcome then ; conduct me thither. King. Hear me, dear lady, I have sworn an oath. Pri, Our lady help my lord ! he'll be forsworn. Kitig. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. Pri. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. »5 But pardon mc, 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. {^Givcs theJdvga pa^cr. King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. Pri. You will the sooner, that I were away; For you'll prove perjured, if you make me stay. {^Gocs vp stage (c.) 7uitJi. the King; Biron and Rosaline meet down c. Biron. Did I not dance with you in Brabant once? Ros. Did I not dance wiih you in Brabant once? Biron. I know you did. Ros. How needless was it then To ask the question ! Biron. You must not be so quick. Ros. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such question. Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. Biron. What time o' day? Ros. The hour that fools should ask. Biron. Now fair befall your mask ! {Attempting to pry be- neath her visor. Ros. Fair fall the face it covers I Biron. And send you many lovers! Ros. Amen, so you be none. Biron. Nay, then will I be gone. [timate King {.coming down c] Madam, your father here doth in- The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one half of an entire sum, Disbursed by my father iii his wars. But say that he, or we, (as neither have,) Receiv'd that sum ; yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more ; in surety the which, One part of Aquitain is bound to us, Although not valued to the money's worth. If then the king your father will restore But that one half which is unsatisfied, We will give up our right in Aquitain, And hold fair friendship with his majesty. i6 Pri. 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. King. I do protest, I never heard of it ; And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back, Or yield up Aquitain. Pri. We arrest your word : — Boyet, you can produce aquittances For such a sum, from special officers Of Charles his father. King. Satisfy me so. {^Turning to Boyet. Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not come. Where that and other specialities are bound ; To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. Ki?jg. It shall suffice me : at which interview All liberal reason I will yield unto. Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand As honor, without breach of honor, may Make tender of to thy true worthiness : You may not come, fair princess, in my gates But here without you shall be so receiv'd, As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart Though so denied fair harbor in my house. [Crossing io R.^ and turning with a bow. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell: To-morrow we shall visit you again. Pri. Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace. King. Thy owa wish wish I thee in every place ! • \Exeunt King, Officers, R. Biron [crossing R. and saluting B,osaline.'\ Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. Ros. Pray you, do my commendations ; I would be glad to see it. Biron. I would you heard it groan. — Ah ! Ros. Is the fool sick ? Biron. Sick at the heart. Ros. Alack, let it bleed. Biron. Would that do it good ? Bos. My physic says, aye. Biron. Now, Heaven save thy life. Hos. And yours from long living. [Bmis ,,ff Bum. {crossing r. to Boyei\ Sir, I pray you a word •' What lady IS that same ? Boytt. The heir of Alencon, Rosaline her name Dvm A gallant lady ! Monsieur, fare you well. T^^.V r Lon, [crossing to Boyet\ I beseech you a word: What is she in the white ? Boyet.K woman sometimes, if you saw her in the light Zon. Perchance, light in the light : I desire her name ' Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that, were a shame. Lon. Pray you. sir, whose daughter ? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. Lon. God's blessing on your beard ! Boyet. Good sir, be not offended : She is an heir of Falconbridge. Lon. Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady. Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be. n Axn .5 , ^^^^'' Longaville, r. JJum. What s her name in the cap ? Boyet. Katharine, by good hap. Bum. Is she wedded or no ? Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. Dvm. You are welcome, sir ; adieu ! Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you \Ex^t Dumain, K.-The Ladies unmask and laugh merrily Boyet {laughing with others.-] If my observation (which very seldom lies) Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. Pri. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is disposed To speak that in words, which his eye hath disclos'd Boyet. Nay, I'll give you Aquitain and all that is tis An you give him for my sake one lovino- kiss Pri. Oh ! * {Exits into tent, l., laughing, followed by Katharine. Mas. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully. :3 ^far. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. [Exit into tent, laughing. Boyet. What, then, did you see ? Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. [Exit into tent, laughing. Boyet. You are too hard for me. [^Exit, r. END OF ACT n. ACT UI. SCENE. — Another part of the Pari: — A Dense Wood. Enter Armado and MoTH, L. u. E. Arm. Go, tenderness of years ! take this key, give enlarge- ment to the swain, bring him festinately hither ; I must em- ploy him in a letter to my love. Moth. [Aside. ^ A message well sympathized : a horse to be an ambassador for an ass ! Arm. Ha, ha ! what sayest thou? Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited : But I go. Arm. The way is but short ; away. Moth. As swift as lead, sir. Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ? Moth. Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no. Arm. I say, lead is slow. Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so : Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun ? Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric ! He repute's me a cannon ; and the bullet, that's he : — I shoot thee at the swain. Moth. I flee. [Exit, l. Arm. A most acute juvenal ; voluble and free of grace ! But thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face : • Moist-eyed melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is returned. Re-gnter !MoTH — -followed by CoSTARD, crying. Moih. Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin. 19 Arm. Come hither, come hither: and tell me how was there a Costard broken in a shin. Moth. I will tell you sensibly. Cos. [Putting him abided Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth. I will speak : I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell over the threshold and broke my shin I Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. Cos. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah Costard, marry I will enfanchise thee. Cos. O ! marry me to one Francis ! Art7i. By my sweet soul I mean setting thee at liberty : Enfreedoming thy person : thou wast immured, restrained, captivated, bound. Cos. True, true ; I know you will be my purgation and let me loose. Arm. Sirrah Costard, I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance ; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: [Giving him a letter, which het places in his hat.^ Bear this significant to the country -maid Jaquenetta ; [Giving him money.'] there is remuneration ; for the best ward of mine honor is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow. [Exit, R. Moth. Like the sequel, I. — Signer Costard, adieu. [Exit, R. Cos. Now will I look to this remuneration. Remunera- tion ? O, that's the Latin word for three farthings : three farthings — remuneration. Enter BiRON, L. U. E. Biron. O, my good- knave. Costard ! exceedingly well met. Cos. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration ? Biron. What is a remuneration? Cos. Marry, sir, half- penny farthing. Biron. O, why then, three-farthings-worth of silk. Cos. I thank your worship : God be with you ! Biron. O, stay, my slave; I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my favor, good, my knave. Do one thinsf for me that I shall entreat. Cos. Wlien would you have it done, sir ? Biron. O, this afternoon. Cos. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well. Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is. Cos. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. Cos. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning. Biron. It must be done this afternoon. 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 tongue speaks sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her : ask for her ; [ Giving a letter, which Costard places on o])posite side of his hat. And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal'd up counsel. \^Giving him money.'] There's thy guerdon ; go. \_Retires vp c. Cos. Gardon, — O sweet gardon ! better than remunera- tion ; eleven-pence farthing better : Most sweet gardon ! — I will do it, sir, in print. — Gardon — remuneration. \_Exit, L. Biron. [^Coming forward, c] O ! — And I, forsooth, in ove? I, that have been love's whip. What ? I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! A woman that is like a German clock. Still a repairing ; ever out of frame ; And never going aright. Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all ; And, among three, to love the worst of all ; A whitely wanton with a velvet brow. And I to sigh for her ! to watch for her ! To pray for her ! Go to ; its a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect Of his almighty dreadful little might. Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan ; Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [^£Jxit, l. i. e. Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Attendants, and a Forester, r. u. e. Pri. (c. ) Was that the king that spurr'd his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill? 31 Boyet. (l. c. ) I know not ; but, I think, it was not he. Fri. Whoe'er he was, he shew'd a mounting mind. Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch : On Saturday we will return to France. — Then forester, my friend, where is the bush, That we must stand and play the murderer in ? For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice ; A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot. [c. cross, pointing off L. Fri. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot. And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot. For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Pri. What, what ? first praise me, and again say, no ? O short liv'd pride ! Not fair ? alack for woe ! For. Yes, madam, fair. Fri. Nay, never paint me now ; Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass, \_Giving him money, '\ take this for tell- ing true ; Fair payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. Fri. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. O heresy in fair, fit for these days ! A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. — But come, the bow. [Boyet is about to lead off the hunting party towards L., and meets Costard, who enters L. with a letter. Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth. Cos. Pray you, which is the head lady ? Fri. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. Cos. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ? Fri. The thickest, and the tallest ? Cos. The thickest, and the tallest ! it is so ; truth is truth. Are not you the chief woman ? you are the thickest here. Fri. What's your will, sir? what's your will? Cos. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to one lady Rosaline. Fri. O, thy letter, thy letter ; he's a good friend of mine : \_Takes the letter. Stand aside, good bearer. — Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon. [Gives the letter. Boyet. I am bound to serve. — This letter is mistook, it importeth none here ; It is writ to Jaquenetta. Pri. We will read it, I swear : Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. \_Reading.'] "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 than beauteous, truer than truth itself ; hove commiseration on thy heroical vas- sal! The viagnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua ets eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon ; J 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, expecti7ig 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 industry, DON Adriano DE Armado." Fri. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter ? What vane ? what weathercock ? Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style. This Armado is a Spaniard, and one that makes sport To the prince, and his book-mates. Fri. Thou, fellow, a word : Who gave thee this letter ? / Cos. I told you; my lord. Fri. To whom shouldst thou give it ? Cos. From my lord to my lady. Fri. From which lord, to which lady ? Cos. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine ; Toa lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. Fri. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, friends, away. Here, sweet, [To Bo. valine,'] put up this; 'twill be thine another day. [Exeunt Princess Katharine and pages. Boyet. [To Ros.] Who's the suitor? who's the suitor? 23 Bos. Shall I teach you to know ? Boyet. Aye, my continent of beauty. Ros. Why she that bears the bow. Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry, Hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry. Ros. Well, then, I'm the shooter. [Going. Royet. And who's your dear? [Following her. Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself, come not near. Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow. [Exit L. Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying. That was a man, when King Pepin of France was a little boy? Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old : That was a woman, when Queen Guiniver of Britain was a little wench. Ros. [Roguishly taking his arm.'\ Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it ; Thou canst not hit it, my good man. [Going Boyet. [Detaining her. '\ 'An I cannot, cannot, cannot; 'An I cannot, another can ! [Exeunt L. Cos. By my soul, a swain, a most simple clown ; Lord, lord, how the ladies and I have put him down ! Oh ! my troth, most sweet jests ! Armado, o' the one side : most dainty man ; To see him waltz before a lady, and bear her fan ! To see him kiss his hand : and how most Sweetly and will swear ! Looking babies in her eyes : his passion to declare ! And his page o' t'other side, that handful of small wit. Oh ! heavens, it is a most pathetical nit ! Sola ! Sola ! [Exit R. Hunting horns heard offi.. Enter Sir Nathaniel, Holofernes, and Dull, l. Sir Nat. Very reverent sport truly, and done in the testi- mony of a good conscience. Aye : deer killing is reverent sport, and right reverently doth the Princess pursue it. The deer was most reverently killed. Hoi. [l. c] Aye; the deer was, as you know, in sanguis, — in blood ; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of ccelo, — the sky, the welkin, the heaven ; ^4 and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra, — the soil, the land, the earth. Nat. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least : But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the fifth year; a buck indeed of the first head. Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. Dull, [r.] ^^wzs x^o^. 2i haud credo ; 'twas a pricket.* Hoi. 'Twice sod simplicity, ^/j ^^^/«i- / — O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look ! Nat. 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 on^y an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. Dull. You two are book-men ; Can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet? Hoi. Dictynna, good man Dull ; Dictynna. Dull. What is Dictynna? Nat. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. Hoi. The moon was a month old, when Adam was no more : And not five weeks, when he came to five-score. The allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. 'Tis true indeed ; the collusion holds in the ex- change. Hoi. God comfort thy capacity ! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange ; for the moon is never but a month old : and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess killed. Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer, and to humor the ignorant I have called the deer the princess killed — a pricket ! Nat. Ferge, go^d master Holofernes, perge ; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. Hoi. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facil- ity \^Reads.'\ The preyful princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing pricket ; — * Pricket: i. e., a buck of the .<: e cotid ys^r. 25 Some say a' sore ; but not a sore till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell : put L to Love : then sorel jumps from thicket Or pricket sore, or else sorel ; the people fall a hooting. If sore be sore: then L to sore, make fifty sores; O! sore L Of one sore, I an hundred make — by adding one more L. Nat. A rare talent ! Hoi. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple ; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions : these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and deliver'd upon the mellowing of occasion : But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thank- ful for it. Nat. Sir, I praise the Lord for you ; and so may my pa- rishioners ; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you : you are a good member of the commonwealth. Hoi. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction : if their daughters be capable . But, vir sapit quipauca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth us. Enter Jaquenetta and Costard r. Jag. God give you good morrow, master Person. Hnl. Master Per-son 1 quasi, pers-on ? an if one should be pierced which is the one. Cos. Marry good master — schoolmaster he that is like to a hogshead ! Jag. Good master Parson, be so good as read me this let- ter ; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho ; I beseech you, read it. \_Gives it to Nathaniel. Hoi. Under pardon, sir, what are the contents '? Or rather as Horace says in his — What, my soul, verses ? Nat. Ay, sir, and very learned. Hoi. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse ; Lege domine. Nat. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love ? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed ! 26 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove ; Those thoughts to me were oaks, Hoi. [^Interrupting him.'] You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent ; let me supervise the canzonet. But damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Jag. Ay, sir. Hoi. I will overglance the superscript. \_Reading.'] " To the snow tohite hand of the most beauteous Lady RosalineJ^ I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nom- ination of the party writing to the person written unto : [Reading^ " Your Ladyship^ s in all desired employment, BiRON." Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's which, accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. \_To Jaquennetta.'] Trip and go, my sweet ; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king ; it may concern much : Stay not thy compliment ; I forgive thy duty ; adieu. Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. — Sir, God save your life! Cos. Have with thee my girl. [Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta, R. Nat. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very re- ligiously ; and as a certain father saith Hoi. Sir, tell not me of the father. [Grossing to l. c] But, to return to the verses ; Did they please you, Sir Na- thaniel ? Nat. Marvellous well for the pen. Hoi. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine ; where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on u^y privilege I have with the parents of the aforesaid child or pupil, undertake and your ben venuto ; where I will prove those verses to be un- learned, neither sovouring of poetry, Avit, nor invention. I beseech your society. Nat. And thank you too ; for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life. Hoi. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. — [To Dull.] Sir, I do invite you too ; you shall not say me. 27 nay : pauca verba.'] Runtiag horns heard without.'] Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. lExeunt, L. Elder BiRON with a paper, R. u. E. Biron. I will not love : if I do hang me ; i'faith 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 here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' 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 love as I ; and as forsworn as I. Here comes one with a paper ; Heaven give him grace to groan. \_Clitnbs up into a tree» Eater the King with a paper, r. King. Ah me ! Biron. [^Aside.] Shot by heaven ! King . \_Rea din g . ] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose. As thy eye beams, when iheir fresh rays 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 shin'st in every tear that I do weep ; No drop but as a coach doth carry thee, So ridest thou triumphing in my woe : Do but behold the tears cf that swell in me. And they thy glory through my grief will shew ; But do not love thyself; then thou wilt 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 paper, And she may find it in her stroll. [Re is about to drop the scroll, but, seeing Longaville approach, stojys. Sweet leaves shade folly. ^Looking off, l.] Who is he come here ? [Retires, R. s. E. Enter Longaville, tvith a paper, l. What, Longaville, and reading ! listen, ear. • 28 Biron. [^Aside.'] Now, in thy likeness one more fool ap- pear ! Lon. Ah me ! I am forsworn. King. \^Adde.'\ In love, I hope; sweet fellowship in shame. Biron. \^Aside.'\ One drunkard loves another of the name. Lon. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so ! Biron. [^Aside."] I could put thee in comfort ; not by two, that I know : Lon. 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. Lon. [^Reads. Did not the he3venly 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 breath a vapor is ; Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine; Exhal'st 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 ? Biron. l^Aside."] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity : A green goose, a goddess : God mend us ! we are much out o* the way. Lon. By whom shall I send this? — Company ! stay. [^Retires, L. u. E., as Dumain enters, R. Biron. \^Aside.'\ More sacks to the 'mill ! O heavens, I have my wish ; Dumain transform'd : four woodcocks in a dish ! Bum. O most divine Kate ! Biron. \^Aside.'\ O most profane coxcomb ! Bum. As fair as day. Biron. \^Aside.'] Ay, as some days ; but then no sun must shine. Bum. O that I had my wi.sh ! Lon. \^Aside.'\ And I had mine ! 39 King. \_Aside.'] And I mine, too. Biron. l^Aside.'] Amen, so I had mine. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. Biron. \_A!iide.'\ Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. Dum. 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, 'gan passage find ; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; Air, would I might triumph so ! But alack, my hand is sworn, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn. Vow, alack, for youth unmeet]; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me, ■ftat I am forsworn for thee ; Thou for whom ev'n Jove would swear, Juno but an Ethiop 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 love's fasting pain. O, would the King, Biron, and Longaville, Were lovers too ! Ill, to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note ; For none offend, where all alike do dote. Lo7i. \_Advancing.'\ Dumain, thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desirs't society; You may look pale, but I should blush, I know. To be o'erheard, and taken napping so. King. {Advancing, c] Come, sir, you blush 3 as his your case is such ; You chide at him, offending twice as much : You do not love Maria ; Longaville 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 mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion, Ah me ! says one ; O Jove ! the other cries ; [To Lo7igaville.'\ You would for paradise break faith and troth ; \^To Dn7nain.'\ And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. What will Biron say, when that he shall hear Of faith infring'd which, such a 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. Biron. {Aside. ~\ Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. — {Descends from the tree, and advances. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me : Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These worms for loving, that are most in love ? Your eyes do make no coaches ; 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 sonneting. But are you not ashamed ? nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen ! me, with what strict patience have I sat To see a king transformed to a gnat 1 Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumain? And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And Where's my liege's? all about the breast : — A caudle, ho ! King. Too bitter in thy jest. Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view? Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you : T, that am honest ; that I hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in \ 1 am betray'd, by keeping company With moonlike men of strange inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for Joan ? When shall you hear that 1 Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb ? — \_£Jnter Jaquenette and Costard ; Biron is about to run off. The King stops him. King. Soft ; Whither away so fast ? A true man, or a thief, that gallops so ? Biron. I post from love ; good lover, let me go. Jaq. God bless the king ! King. What present hast thou there ? Cos. Some certain treason. King. What makes treason here? Cos. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. If it mar nothing, neither. The treason, and you, go in peace away together. Jaq. \_Kneeling .'] I beseech your grace, let this letter be read; Our parson misdoubts it ; it was treason, he said. King. \_Giving the letter.'] Biron, read it over. \To Jaquenetta.] Where hadst thou it? Jaq. Of Costard. King. [7>> Costard.] Where hadst thou it ? Cos. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. \_Biron tears the letter. King. How now ! what is in you? why dost thou tear it? Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy ; your grace needs not fear it. Lon. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it. Bum. \_Picking up the pieces.] It is Biron' s writing, and here is h.is name. Biron. \_To Costard.] Ah, you loggerhead, you were born to do me shame. — Guilty, my lord, guilty ; I confess, I confess. King. What? Biron. That you three fools lacked me fool to make up the mess ; He, he, and you ; and you, my liege, and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. 39 King. Hence, sirs, away. Cos. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [^Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta, L. Biron. 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 shew his face ; Young blood doth not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we are born ; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love[of thine ? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline ? That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head ; and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty ? King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron : O, but for my love, day would turn to night ! To things of sale a seller's praise belongs ; She passes praise : then praise too short doth blot. A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye : Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born. And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. King. By heaven thy love is black as ebony. Biron. Is ebony like her? O, wood divine ! A wife of such wood were felicity. O, who can give an oath ? where is the 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. But what of this ? Are we not all in love ? Biron. Nothing so sure; and thereby all foresworn. ^9, King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Bum. Ay, marry, give some flattery for this evil. Lon. O, some authority how to proceed ; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. Bum. Some salve for perjury. Bircn. O, 'tis more than need ! — Have at you then, affection's men at arms : Consider, what you first did swear unto ; — To fast, — to study, — and to see no woman ; — Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast ? your stomachs are too young ; And abstinence engenders maladies. Now, for not looking on a woman's face. You have in that forsworn the use of eyes ; And study too, the causer of your vow : For where is any other in the world, Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? O, we have made a vow to study, lords ; And in that vow we have forsworn our books ; For when would you my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation, have found out Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; And therefore finding barren practisers. Scarce shew a harvest of their heavy toil : But love, first learned in a lady's eyes. Lives not alone immured in the brain ; It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd j Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, Than are the tender horns of cockled snails ; And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write. Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs. 34 From woman's eyes this doctrine I derive : They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That shew, contain, and nourish all the world; Then fools you were these women to forswear ; Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. King. Saint Cupid, then ! and soldiers, to the field ! Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords ! Lon. Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? King. And win them too : therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents. First, from the park let us conduct them thither; Then, homeward, every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape ; For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, Fore -run fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. \_Ex&unt, R. u. E. END OF ACT III. ACT. IV. SCENE I.— The Old Palace in the Park. Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull, r. Nat. (c.) I praise heaven for you, sir; your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious ; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impu- WmCTI 11 IE lo-OOO ::sro'w^ ikt use The Waines Pi ano- jpoi^TE be'ore pur-ehasing For sale, to rent, and by installments, at 27 UNION SQUARE. L Increase in Sales. — The sales of the Haines Brothers were as follows : — Made and sold in i866, 830 I'ianos; in 1867, 972; in 1868, 1,003, >" 1^69, 1.205; (Vom Sf^ I, i86p. f-0 Sept. \, 1870, 1,300. In the -n r\\\ f May, 1871, 161 Pianos were made and. sold by thi- ,,rm, showing a rate of 1,920 Pianos in a year, i:nd exhibiting an increase of much more than double A ;thin five years. These are solid and significant facts !1k1 should be borne in mind by all buyers. They ;liow r.n unimpeachable public verdict ni favi .f tht - ano-Fortt. £^ r rv. ^3i PcT/ 5>^ ^7 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. Shi 1984 APR17198I Series 9482