Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.

Prin. Who'er he was, he show'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, when you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. 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. Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say, no?

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair ? alack for woe!
For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;

Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the

brow.

Here, good my glass, take this for telling true; [Giving him money. Fair payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.

Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by

merit.

ill.

[ear

Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven that thou art fair, is most infallible; true that thou are beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely : More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate ring Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (O base and obscure vulgar!) he videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: came, one; saw, two; overcame, 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's: the captive is enrich'd; On whose side? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a nuptial; On whose side? the king's?-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 industry,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Thus dost thou hear the Nenean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his

A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport

To the prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou, fellow, a word:

Who gave thee this letter?

Cost. I told you; my lord.

Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it ?

Cost. From my lord to my lady.

Prin. From which lord, to which lady?

Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of

mine,

To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come,

lords, away.

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another
day. [Exit PRINCEss and Trains
Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor ?
Ros. Shall I teach you to know ?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Ros. Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off !

Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if

thou marry,

Hang me by the neck, if horns that year mis

carry.

Finely put on!

Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.

Boyet. And who is your deer?

Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself:

comme near.

Finely put on, indeed!

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now ?

Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Biron. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever⚫ of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, [Singing.

Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.

[Exeunt Ros. and KATH.

Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it!

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A mark, says my lady !

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be. Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith your hand is out.

Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout. Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your hand is in.

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving

plication; facere, as it were, replication, or rather ostentare, to show, as it were, bis inclination after his undressed, uupolished, uneducated, uupruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, -to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo ; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!-0 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 of 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, indiscreet, 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' mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.

Dull. You two are book-men: Can you tel by your wit,

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not

five weeks old as yet f

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna

good man Dull. Dull. What is Dictynna?

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir; challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; Good night, my good owl. [Exeunt BOYET and MARIA.

Cost. By my soul, a swaiul a most simple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down!

O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit !

When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.

Armatho o'the one side,-Oh! a most dainty man !

To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!

To see him kiss his hand; and how most sweetly a' will swear !And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit! Ah! heavens, it is a most pathetical hit! Sola, sola ! [Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD, running.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL.

Nath. Very reverent sport, truly and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,-blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of calo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. 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 first head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation I yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of ex

•King Arthur's queen; not over famous for fidelity to her husband, A species of appre

1 One John Florio, a pedantic teacher of Italian.

Nath. A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the

moon.

Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adar was no more;

And raught not to five weeks, when he came to fivescore. The allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the coliusion holds a the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the ex change; for the moon is never but a mouth old and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extem poral epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess kill'd, a pricket.

Nath. Perge, good master Holoferness, perge so it shall please you to abrogate scurrinty. Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility.

The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a

pretty pleasing pricket;

Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now

made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell; put I to sore, then sorel

jumps from thicket;

Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people

fall a hooting.

If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty

Of one

sores; O sore L!

sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more L.

Nath. A rare talent!

Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

Hol. 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 thankful for it.

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so nay my parishioners; for their sons are well

son.

read it.

Old

swear to love ?

sweet fire.

this

Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue!

Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man and why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari, 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 f

Jaq. Ay, Sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beautcous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect

Horse adorned with ribands

of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto:

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, accidently, or by the way of progression, hath miscaried.-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! Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

[Exeunt CoST. and JAQ. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith-

Hol. 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. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. 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 my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither saveuring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.

Nath. And thank you too for society, (saith the text,) is the happiness of life.

Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. Sir, [To DULL.] I do invite you too; you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. to our recreation. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Another part of the same. Enter BIRON, with a paper.

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd 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 on my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i'faith I will not. Oh! 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 aiready; 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: Here comes one with a paper; God give him grace to groan I [Gets up into a tree.

Enter the KING, with a paper.

O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel ! No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.

No drop but as a coach doth carry thee, So ridest thou triumphing in my woe; Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

Biron. O most profane coxcomb ! [Aside. Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal

And they thy glory through thy grief will show;

But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me

eye! Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you lie. [Aside. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted..

weep.

How shall she know my griets? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [Steps aside.

Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.

What Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear ! [Aside.

Long. Ah! me, I am forsworn. Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. [Aside. King. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in shame! [Aside. Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. [Aside. Long. Am I the first that have been perjur'd

in me.

o' the way.

dish !

Dum. O most divine Kate'

Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision! [Aside. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.

Biron. Once more I'll mark how love cau vary wit. [Aside.

Dura. 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,
That I am forsworn for thee :
Thou for whom even 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.
Oh! would the King, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! III, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote,
Long. Dumain, [Advancing.] thy love is far

from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.
King. Come, Sir, [Advancing.) you blush;

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;
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your pas-
sion :

Ah! me, says one O Jovel the other cries; One, her hairs were gold, crysta! the other's eyes:

Outstripped, surpassed.

You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To LONG. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [TO DUMAIN. What will Birón say, when that he shall hear A 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. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.-
Ah! good ny liege, I pray thee pardon me:
[Descends from the tree.
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to re-
prove

Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To COSTARD.] you were born to do me shame.

Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess.
King. What ?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess:

He, he, 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.

Dum. Now the number is even.
Biron. True, true; we are four ;-
Will these turtles be gone?
King. Hence, Sirs; away.

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.

[Eveunt Cost. and JAQ. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us

embrace!

see;

But I a beam do find in each of three.
Oh! what a scene of foolery I have 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 gigg,
And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,
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 Longaville, where lies thy pain ?
And where my liege's ? all about the breast :-
A caudle, ho!

King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?
Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you,
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in;
I am betray'd, by keeping company

With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme ?
Or groan for Joan ? or spend a minute's time
In pruning I me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb१--

King. Soft; Whither away so fast?
A trite man, or a thief, that gallops so ?
Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me
go.

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.

Jaq. God bless the king!

King. What present hast thou there?
Cost. Some certain treason.

King. What makes treason here ?
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, Sir.

King. If it mar nothing neither,

The treason, and you, go in peace away to

gether.

read;

Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas reason, he said. King. Biron, read it over.

Where hadst thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.

[Giving him the letter.

Therefore, of all bands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thee ?

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 pereinptory 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?

Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,-
Fie, painted rhetoric! oh! she needs it not :
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. Oh! 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine! King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine !

A wife of such wood were felicity.

Oh! 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 dungeons, and the scowl of night;

And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils soouest tempt, resembling spirits

of lights.

Oh ! if in black my lady's brows be deck'd
It mourns, that painting, and usurping hatz
Should ravish doters with a false aspéct;
And therefore is she born to make black
fair

Her favour turns the fasoion of the days;
For native blood is counted paiuting now;
And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.
Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers
black.

Long. And since her time, are colliers counted
bright.
King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion
crack.