LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST THE first, 1598 edition of Love’s Labour’s Lost is the earliest play text to carry Shakespeare’s name on the title-page, which also refers to performance before the Queen ‘this last Christmas’. The play is said to be ‘Newly corrected and augmented’, so perhaps an earlier edition has failed to survive. Even so, the text shows every sign of having been printed from Shakespeare’s working papers, since it includes some passages in draft as well as in revised form. We print the drafts as Additional Passages. The play was probably written some years before publication, in 1594 or 1595. The setting is Navarre—a kingdom straddling the border between Spain and France—where the young King and three of his friends vow to devote the following three years to austere self-improvement, forgoing the company of women. But they have forgotten the imminent arrival on a diplomatic mission of the Princess of France with, as it happens, three of her ladies; much comedy derives from, first, the men’s embarrassed attempts to conceal from one another that they are falling in love, and second, the girls’ practical joke in exchanging identities when the men, disguised as Russians, come to entertain and to woo them. Shakespeare seems to have picked up the King’s friends’ names—Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville—from leading figures in contemporary France, but to have invented the plot himself. He counterpoints the main action with events involving characters based in part on the type-figures of Italian commedia dell‘arte who reflect facets of the lords’ personalities. Costard, an unsophisticated, open-hearted yokel, and his girl-friend Jaquenetta are sexually uninhibited; Don Adriano de Armado, ‘a refinèd traveller of Spain’ who also, though covertly, loves Jaquenetta, is full of pompous affectation; and Holofernes, a schoolmaster (seen always with his doting companion, the curate Sir Nathaniel), demonstrates the avid pedantry into which the young men’s verbal brilliance could degenerate. Much of the play’s language is highly sophisticated (this is, as the title-page claims, a ‘conceited comedy’), in keeping with its subject matter. But the action reaches its climax when a messenger brings news which is communicated entirely without verbal statement. This is a theatrical masterstroke which also signals Shakespeare’s most daring experiment with comic form. ‘The scene begins to cloud’; in the play’s closing minutes the lords and ladies seek to readjust themselves to the new situation, and the play ends in subdued fashion with a third entertainment, the songs of the owl and the cuckoo. Love’s Labour’s Lost was for long regarded as a play of excessive verbal sophistication, of interest mainly because of a series of supposed topical allusions; but a number of distinguished twentieth-century productions revealed its theatrical mastery. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY Ferdinand, KING of Navarre Don Adriano de ARMADO, an affected Spanish braggart MOTE, his page

PRINCESS of France COSTARD, a Clown JAQUENETTA, a country wench

Sir NATHANIEL, a curate HOLOFERNES, a schoolmaster Anthony DULL, a constable

MERCADE, a messenger

A FORESTER

Love’s Labour’s Lost

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ferdinand, King of Navarre, Biron, Longueville, and Dumaine
KING	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, Th’endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour which shall bate his scythe’s 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 world’s desires— Our late edict shall strongly stand in force. Navarre shall be the wonder of the world. Our court shall be a little academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three—Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville— 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. If you are armed to do as sworn to do, Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it, too.
LONGUEVILLE	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 bankrupt quite the wits. He signs
DUMAINE	My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified. The grosser manner of these world’s delights He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves. To love, to wealth, to pomp I pine and die, With all these living in philosophy. He signs
BIRON	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, 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 enrolled there. O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep— Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.
KING	Your oath is passed to pass away from these.
BIRON	Let me say no, my liege, an if you please. I only swore to study with your grace, And stay here in your court, for three years’ space.
LONGUEVILLE	You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
BIRON	By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. What is the end of study, let me know?
KING	Why, that to know which else we should not know.
BIRON	Things hid and barred, you mean, from common sense.
KING	Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense.
BIRON	Come 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 feast 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 study’s gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know. Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say no.
KING	These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight.
BIRON	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 indeed By fixing it upon a fairer eye, Who dazzling so, that eye shall be 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 heaven’s lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know is to know naught but fame, And every godfather can give a name.
KING	How well he’s read, to reason against reading!
DUMAINE	Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.
LONGUEVILLE	He weeds the corn and still lets grow the weeding.
BIRON	The spring is near when green geese are a-breeding.
DUMAINE	How follows that?
BIRON	Fit in his place and time.
DUMAINE	In reason nothing.
BIRON	Something then in rhyme.
KING	Biron is like an envious sneaping frost, That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
BIRON	Well, say I am! Why should proud summer boast Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows, But like of each thing that in season grows. So you to study, now it is too late, Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate.
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 sworn, 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	(giving a paper) How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
BIRON	(reads) ‘Item: that no woman shall come within a mile of my court.’ Hath this been proclaimed?
LONGUEVILLE	Four days ago.
BIRON	Let’s see the penalty. ‘On pain of losing her tongue.’ Who devised this penalty?
LONGUEVILLE	Marry, that did I.
BIRON	Sweet lord, and why?
LONGUEVILLE	To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
BIRON	A dangerous law against gentility. ‘Item: if any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possible 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— 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’admirèd Princess hither.
KING	What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot.
BIRON	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.
KING	We must of force 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; For every man with his affects is born, 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 write my name, And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame. He signs 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?
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 who the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; A man of complements, 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 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.
LONGUEVILLE	Costard the swain and he shall be our sport, And so to study three years is but short.
(didascalia)	Enter a constable, Anthony Dull, with Costard with a letter
DULL	Which is the Duke’s own person?
BIRON	This, fellow. What wouldst?
DULL	I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace’s farborough. But I would see his own person in flesh and blood.
BIRON	This is he.
DULL	Senor Arm—Arm—commends you. There’s villainy abroad. This letter will tell you more.
COSTARD	Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. KING A letter from the magnificent Armado.
BIRON	How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.
LONGUEVILLE	A high hope for a low heaven. God grant us patience.
BIRON	To hear, or forbear laughing?
LONGUEVILLE	To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both.
BIRON	Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness.
COSTARD	The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
BIRON	In what manner?
COSTARD	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; 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.
BIRON	For the ‘following’, sir?
COSTARD	As it shall follow in my correction; and God defend the right.
KING	Will you hear this letter with attention?
BIRON	As we would hear an oracle.
COSTARD	Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.
KING	(reads) ‘Great deputy, the welkin’s vicegerent and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul’s earth’s god, and body’s fostering patron’—
COSTARD	Not a word of Costard yet.
KING	‘So it is’—
COSTARD	It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so.
KING	Peace!
COSTARD	Be to me and every man that dares not fight.
KING	No words!
COSTARD	Of other men’s secrets, I beseech you.
KING	‘So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving 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 and most preposterous event that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest. But to the place where. It standeth north-north-east and 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’—
COSTARD	Me?
KING	‘That unlettered, small-knowing sout’—
COSTARD	Me?
KING	‘That shallow vassal’—
COSTARD	Still me?
KING	‘Which, as I remember, hight Costard’—
COSTARD	O, me!
KING	‘Sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, with, with, O with—but with this I passion to say wherewith’—COSTARD With a wench.
KING	‘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 meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace’s officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.’
DULL	Me, an’t shall please you. I am Anthony Dull.
KING	‘For Jaquenetta—so is the weaker vessel called—which I apprehended 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 heartburning heat of duty, Don Adriano de Armado.’
BIRON	This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.
KING	Ay, the best for the worst. (To Costard) But, sirrah, what say you to this?
COSTARD	Sir, I confess the wench.
KING	Did you hear the proclamation?
COSTARD	I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.
KING	It was proclaimed a year’s imprisonment to be taken with a wench.
COSTARD	I was taken with none, sir. I was taken with a damsel.
KING	Well, it was proclaimed ‘damsel’.
COSTARD	This was no damsel, neither, sir. She was a virgin.
(didascalia)	KING It is so varied, too, for it was proclaimed ‘virgin’.
COSTARD	If it were, I deny her virginity. I was taken with a maid.
KING	This ‘maid’ will not serve your turn, sir.
COSTARD	This maid will serve my turn, sir.
KING	Sir, I will pronounce your sentence. You shall fast a week with bran and water.
COSTARD	I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
KING	And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My lord Biron, see him delivered o’er, And go we, lords, to put in practice that Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the King, Longueville, and Dumaine
BIRON	I’ll lay my head to any good man’s hat These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on.
COSTARD	I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl, and therefore, welcome the sour cup of prosperity, affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Armado and Mote, his page
ARMADO	Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?
MOTE	A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
ARMADO	Why, sadness is one and the selfsame thing, dear imp.
MOTE	No, no, O Lord, sir, no.
ARMADO	How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?
MOTE	By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough señor.
ARMADO	Why ‘tough señor’? Why ‘tough señor’?
MOTE	Why ‘tender juvenal’? Why ‘tender juvenal’?
ARMADO	I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate ‘tender’.
MOTE	And I, tough señor, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name ‘tough’.
ARMADO	Pretty and apt.
MOTE	How mean you, sir? I ‘pretty’ and my saying ‘apt’? Or I ‘apt’ and my saying ‘pretty’?
ARMADO	Thou ‘pretty’, because little.
MOTE	Little pretty, because little. Wherefore ‘apt’?
ARMADO	And therefore ‘apt’ because quick.
MOTE	Speak you this in my praise, master?
ARMADO	In thy condign praise.
MOTE	I will praise an eel with the same praise.
ARMADO	What—that an eel is ingenious?
MOTE	That an eel is quick.
ARMADO	I do say thou art quick in answers. Thou heatest my blood.
MOTE	I am answered, sir.
ARMADO	I love not to be crossed.
MOTE	(aside) He speaks the mere contrary-crosses love not him.
ARMADO	I have promised to study three years with the Duke.
MOTE	You may do it in an hour, sir.
ARMADO	Impossible. - MOTE How many is one, thrice told?
ARMADO	I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.
MOTE	You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir. ARMADO I confess both. They are both the varnish of a complete man.
MOTE	Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.
ARMADO	It doth amount to one more than two.
MOTE	Which the base vulgar do call three.
ARMADO	True.
MOTE	Why, sir, is this such a piece of study ? Now here is ‘three’ studied ere ye’ll 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. ARMADO A most fine figure.
MOTE	(aside) To prove you a cipher.
ARMADO	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. Methinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy. What great men have been in love?
MOTE	Hercules, master.
ARMADO	Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy. Name more—and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.
MOTE	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.
ARMADO	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 Samson’s love, my dear Mote?
MOTE	A woman, master.
ARMADO	Of what complexion ?
MOTE	Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
ARMADO	Tell me precisely of what complexion?
MOTE	Of the sea-water green, sir.
ARMADO	Is that one of the four complexions?
MOTE	As I have read, sir; and the best of them, too.
ARMADO	Green indeed is the colour of lovers, but to have a love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit.
MOTE	It was so, sir, for she had a green wit.
ARMADO	My love is most immaculate white and red.
MOTE	Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours.
ARMADO	Define, define, well-educated infant.
MOTE	My father’s wit and my mother’s tongue assist me!
ARMADO	Sweet invocation of a child!—most pretty and pathetical.
MOTE	If she be made of white and red Her faults will ne’er be known, For blushing 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; For still her cheeks possess the same Which native she doth owe. A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red.
ARMADO	Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?
MOTE	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.
ARMADO	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 rational hind Costard. She deserves well.
MOTE	(aside) To be whipped—and yet a better love than my master.
ARMADO	Sing, boy. My spirit grows heavy in love.
MOTE	And that’s great marvel, loving a light wench. ARMADO I say, sing.
MOTE	Forbear till this company be past. Enter Costard the clown, Constable Dull, and Jaquenetta, a wench
DULL	(to Armado) 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 allowed for the dey-woman. Fare you well.
ARMADO	(aside) I do betray myself with blushing.—Maid.
JAQUENETTA	Man.
ARMADO	I will visit thee at the lodge.
JAQUENETTA	That’s hereby.
ARMADO	I know where it is situate.
JAQUENETTA	Lord, how wise you are!
ARMADO	I will tell thee wonders.
JAQUENETTA	With that face?
ARMADO	I love thee.
JAQUENETTA	So I heard you say.
ARMADO	And so farewell.
JAQUENETTA	Fair weather after you.
(didascalia)	DULL Come, Jaquenetta, away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta
ARMADO	Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.
COSTARD	Well, sir, I hope when I do it I shall do it on a full stomach.
ARMADO	Thou shalt be heavily punished.
COSTARD	I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.
ARMADO	Take away this villain. Shut him up.
MOTE	Come, you transgressing slave. Away!
COSTARD	Let me not be pent up, sir. I will fast, being loose.
MOTE	No, sir. That were fast and loose. Thou shalt to prison.
COSTARD	Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.
MOTE	What shall some see?
COSTARD	Nay, nothing, Master Mote, 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 another man, and therefore I can be quiet.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Mote and Costard
ARMADO	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 was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength. Yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn: the passado he respects not, the duello 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, write pen, for I am for whole volumes, in folio. Exit

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Princess of France with three attending ladies-Maria, Catherine, and Rosaline-and three lords, one named Boyet
BOYET	Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits. Consider who the King your father sends, 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 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.
PRINCESS	Good Lord 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 Than 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, Importunes personal conference with his grace. Haste, signify so much while we attend, Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.
BOYET	Proud of employment, willingly I go.
PRINCESS	All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. Exit Boyet Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? A LORD Lord Longueville is one.
PRINCESS	Know you the man?
MARIA	I know him, madam. At a marriage feast Between Lord Perigord and the beauteous heir Of Jaques Fauconbridge solemnized In Normandy saw I this Longueville. A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed, Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms. Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss- If virtue’s gloss will stain with any soil- Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will, Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills It should none spare that come within his power.
PRINCESS	Some merry mocking lord, belike-is’t so?
MARIA	They say so most that most his humours know.
PRINCESS	Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?
CATHERINE	The young Dumaine, 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 Alençon’s once, And much too little of that good I saw Is my report to his great worthiness.
ROSALINE	Another of these students at that time Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. Biron they call him, but a merrier man,
(didascalia)	Within the limit of becoming mirth,
ROSALINE	I never spent an hour’s talk withal. His eye begets occasion for his wit, For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit’s 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.
PRINCESS	God bless my ladies, are they all in love, That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise? A LORD Here comes Boyet.
(didascalia)	Enter Boyet
PRINCESS	Now, what admittance, lord?
BOYET	Navarre had notice of your fair approach, And he and his competitors in oath Were all addressed 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Navarre, Longueville, Dumaine, and Biron
BOYET	Here comes Navarre.
KING	Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.
PRINCESS	‘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.
KING	You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.
PRINCESS	I will be welcome, then. Conduct me thither.
KING	Hear me, dear lady. I have sworn an oath—
PRINCESS	Our Lady help my lord He’ll be forsworn.
KING	Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
PRINCESS	Why, will shall break it—will and nothing else.
KING	Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
PRINCESS	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. She gives him a paper
KING	Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
PRINCESS	You will the sooner that I were away, For you’ll prove perjured if you make me stay. Navarre reads the paper
BIRON	(to Rosaline) Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
(didascalia)	FROSALINE
BIRON	Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
BIRON	I know you did.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	How needless was it then To ask the question!
BIRON	You must not be so quick.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	‘Tis ’long of you, that spur me with such questions.
BIRON	Your wit’s too hot, it speeds too fast, ’twill tire.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
BIRON	What time o’ day?
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	The hour that fools should ask.
BIRON	Now fair befall your mask.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Fair fall the face it covers.
BIRON	And send you many lovers.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Amen, so you be none.
BIRON	Nay, then will I be gone.
KING	(to the Princess) Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns, Being but the one-half 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 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 Aquitaine And hold fair friendship with his majesty. But that, it seems, he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to have repaid A hundred thousand crowns, and not demands, On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, To have his title live in Aquitaine, Which we much rather had depart withal, And have the money by our father lent, Than Aquitaine, so gelded as it is. Dear Princess, were not his requests so far From reason’s yielding, your fair self should make A yielding ’gainst some reason in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again.
PRINCESS	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 Aquitaine.
PRINCESS	We arrest your word. Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a sum from special officers Of Charles, his father.
KING	Satisfy me so.
BOYET	So please your grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound. Tomorrow you shall have a sight of them.
KING	It shall suffice me, at which interview All liberal reason I will yield unto. Meantime 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 shall be so received As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart, Though so denied fair harbour in my house. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell. Tomorrow shall we visit you again.
PRINCESS	Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace.
KING	Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.
(didascalia)	Exit with Longueville and Dumaine
BIRON	(to Rosaline) Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.
ROSALINE	Pray you, do my commendations. I would be glad to see it.
BIRON	I would you heard it groan.
ROSALINE	Is the fool sick?
BIRON	Sick at the heart.
ROSALINE	Alack, let it blood.
BIRON	Would that do it good?
ROSALINE	My physic says ‘Ay’.
BIRON	Will you prick’t with your eye?
ROSALINE	Non point, with my knife.
BIRON	Now God save thy life.
ROSALINE	And yours, from long living.
BIRON	I cannot stay thanksgiving. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Dumaine
DUMAINE	(to Boyet) Sir, I pray you a word. What lady is that same?
BOYET	The heir of Alençon, Catherine her name.
DUMAINE	A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Longueville
LONGUEVILLE	(to Boyet) I beseech you a word, what is she in the white?
BOYET	A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
LONGUEVILLE	Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.
BOYET	She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.
LONGUEVILLE	Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
BOYET	Her mother’s, I have heard.
LONGUEVILLE	God’s blessing on your beard !
BOYET	Good sir, be not offended. She is an heir of Fauconbridge.
LONGUEVILLE	Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady.
BOYET	Not unlike, sir. That may be.
(didascalia)	Exit Longueville
(didascalia)	Enter Biron
BIRON	What’s her name in the cap?
BOYET	Rosaline, by good hap.
BIRON	Is she wedded or no?
BOYET	To her will, sir, or so.
BIRON	O, you are welcome, sir. Adieu.
BOYET	Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
(didascalia)	Exit Biron
MARIA	That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord. Not a word with him but a jest.
BOYET	And every jest but a word.
PRINCESS	It was well done of you to take him at his word.
BOYET	I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Two hot sheeps, marry.
BOYET	And wherefore not ships? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	You sheep and I pasture—shall that finish the jest?
BOYET	So you grant pasture for me.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Not so, gentle beast. My lips are no common, though several they be.
BOYET	Belonging to whom?
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	To my fortunes and me.
PRINCESS	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.
BOYET	If my observation, which very seldom lies, By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
PRINCESS	With what?
BOYET	With that which we lovers entitle ‘affected’.
PRINCESS	Your reason?
BOYET	Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough 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. Methought all his senses were locked in his eye, As jewels in crystal, for some prince to buy, Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glassed, Did point you to buy them along as you passed. His face’s own margin did quote such amazes That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. I’ll give you Aquitaine and all that is his An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
PRINCESS	Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed.
BOYET	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.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BOYET	Thou art an old love-monger, and speak’st skilfully.
(didascalia)	MARIA
BOYET	He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
BOYET	Do you hear, my mad wenches?
(didascalia)	MARIA
BOYET	No.
BOYET	What then, do you see?
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Ay—our way to be gone.
BOYET	You are too hard for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart, and Mote his boy
ARMADO	Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
MOTE	(sings) Concolinel.
ARMADO	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.
MOTE	Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
ARMADO	How meanest thou—brawling in French?
MOTE	No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue’s 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 as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose as if you snuffed up love by smelling love, with your hat penthouse-like o’er the shop of your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket like a 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.
ARMADO	How hast thou purchased this experience?
MOTE	By my penny of observation.
ARMADO	But O, but O-
MOTE	‘The hobby-horse is forgot.’
ARMADO	Call’st thou my love hobby-horse ?
MOTE	No, master, the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
ARMADO	Almost I had.
MOTE	Negligent student, learn her by heart.
ARMADO	By heart and in heart, boy.
MOTE	And out of heart, master. All those three I will prove. 36
ARMADO	What wilt thou prove?
MOTE	A man, if I live; and this, ‘by’, ‘in’, and ‘without’, upon the instant: ‘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.
ARMADO	I am all these three.
MOTE	(aside) And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
ARMADO	Fetch hither the swain. He must carry me a letter.
MOTE	(aside) A message well sympathized—a horse to be ambassador for an ass.
ARMADO	Ha, ha! What sayst thou?
MOTE	Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.
ARMADO	The way is but short. Away!
MOTE	As swift as lead, sir. 55
ARMADO	The meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ?
MOTE	Minime, honest master—or rather, master, no.
ARMADO	I say lead is slow.
MOTE	You are too swift, sir, to say so. Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
ARMADO	Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon, and the bullet, that’s he. I shoot thee at the swain.
MOTE	Thump, then, and I flee.
(didascalia)	Exit
ARMADO	A most acute juvenal—voluble 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Mote the page, and Costard the clown
MOTE	A wonder, master—here’s a costard broken in a shin.
ARMADO	Some enigma, some riddle; come, thy l’envoi. Begin.
COSTARD	No egma, no riddle, no l‘envoi, no salve in the mail, sir. O sir, plantain, a plain plantain—no l’envoi, no l’envoi, no salve, sir, but a plantain.
ARMADO	By virtue, thou enforcest laughter—thy silly thought my spleen. The heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l‘envoi, and the word l’envoi for a salve?
MOTE	Do the wise think them other? Is not l’envoi a salve ?
ARMADO	No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it. so The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three. There’s the moral. Now the /’envoi.
MOTE	I will add the l’envoi. Say the moral again.
ARMADO	The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three.
MOTE	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 l’envoi. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three.
ARMADO	Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.
MOTE	A good l’envoi, ending in the goose. Would you desire more?
COSTARD	The boy hath sold him a bargain—a goose, that’s flat. Sir, your pennyworth is good an your goose be fat. To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose. Let me see, a fat l’envoi-ay, that’s a fat goose.
ARMADO	Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
MOTE	By saying that a costard was broken in a shin. Then called you for the l’envoi.
COSTARD	True, and I for a plantain. Thus came your argument in. Then the boy’s fat l’envoi, the goose that you bought, and he ended the market.
ARMADO	But tell me, how was there a costard broken in a shin?
MOTE	I will tell you sensibly.
COSTARD	Thou hast no feeling of it. Mote, I will speak that l’envoi. I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.
ARMADO	We will talk no more of this matter.
COSTARD	Till there be more matter in the shin.
ARMADO	Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
COSTARD	O, marry me to one Frances! I smell some l’envoi, some goose, in this.
ARMADO	By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person. Thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.
COSTARD	True, true, and now you will be my purgation and let me loose.
ARMADO	I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant to the country maid, Jaquenetta. (Giving him a letter) There is remuneration (giving him money), for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependants. Mote, follow. Exit
MOTE	Like the sequel, I. Signor Costard, adieu. Exit
COSTARD	My sweet ounce of man’s flesh, my incony Jew! Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration— O, that’s the Latin word for three-farthings. Three farthings—remuneration. ‘What’s the price of this inkle?’ ‘One penny.’ ‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration.’ Why, it carries it! Remuneration! Why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.
(didascalia)	Enter Biron
BIRON	My good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.
COSTARD	Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?
BIRON	What is a remuneration?
COSTARD	Marry, sir, halfpenny-farthing.
BIRON	Why, then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
COSTARD	I thank your worship. God be wi’ you.
BIRON	Stay, slave, I must employ thee. As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
COSTARD	When would you have it done, sir?
BIRON	This afternoon.
CUSTARD	Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well.
BIRON	Thou knowest not what it is.
CUSTARD	I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
BIRON	Why, villain, thou must know first.
COSTARD	I will come to your worship tomorrow 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 tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her, And to her white hand see thou do commend This sealed-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon (giving him a letter and money), go.
COSTARD	Guerdon! O sweet guerdon!—better than remuneration, elevenpence-farthing better—most sweet guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print. Guerdon—remuneration. Exit
BIRON	And I, forsooth, in love—I that have been love’s whip, A very beadle to a humorous sigh, A critic, 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 Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid, Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, Th’anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, Sole imperator and great general Of trotting paritors—O my little heart! And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop! What? 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, 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— Ay, 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, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan: Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Princess, a Forester, her ladies-Rosaline, Maria, and Catherine—and her lords, among them Boyet
PRINCESS	Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill?
(didascalia)	BOYET
PRINCESS	I know not, but I think it was not he.
PRINCESS	Whoe’er a was, a showed a mounting mind. Well, lords, today we shall have our dispatch. Ere Saturday we will return to France. Then, forester my friend, where is the bush That we must stand and play the murderer in?
FORESTER	Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice— A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
PRINCESS	I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak’st ‘the fairest shoot’.
FORESTER	Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
PRINCESS	What, what? First praise me, and again say no? O short-lived pride! Not fair? Alack, for woe !
FORESTER	Yes, madam, fair.
PRINCESS	Nay, never paint me now. Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass, take this for telling true. She gives him money Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
FORESTER	Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
PRINCESS	See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit! O heresy in fair, fit for these days— A giving hand, though foul, 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 do’t. 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.
BOYET	Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty Only for praise’ sake when they strive to be Lords o’er their lords?
PRINCESS	Only for praise, and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord.
(didascalia)	Enter Costard the clown
BOYET	Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
COSTARD	God dig-you-de’en, all. Pray you, which is the head lady?
PRINCESS	Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
COSTARD	Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
PRINCESS	The thickest and the tallest.
COSTARD	The thickest and the tallest—it is so, truth is truth. An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here.
PRINCESS	What’s your will, sir? What’s your will?
COSTARD	I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline.
PRINCESS	O, thy letter, thy letter! (She takes it) He’s a good friend of mine. (To Costard) Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve. Break up this capon. She gives the letter to Boyet
BOYET	I am bound to serve. This letter is mistook. It importeth none here. It is writ to Jaquenetta.
PRINCESS	We will read it, I swear. Break the neck of the wax, and everyone give ear.
BOYET	(reads) ‘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, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set’s eye upon the penurious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon, and he it was that might rightly say “Veni, vidi, vicí”, which to annothanize in the vulgar—O base and obscure vulgar!—videlicet “He came, see, and overcame.” He came, one; see, 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 enriched. 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 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.’
PRINCESS	What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better?
BOYET	I am much deceived but I remember the style.
PRINCESS	Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile.
BOYET	This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court, A phantasim, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his bookmates.
PRINCESS	(to Costard) Thou, fellow, a word. Who gave thee this letter?
COSTARD	I told you—my lord.
PRINCESS	To whom shouldst thou give it?
COSTARD	From my lord to my lady.
PRINCESS	From which lord to which lady?
COSTARD	From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, To a lady of France that he called Rosaline.
PRINCESS	Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. (To Rosaline, giving her the letter) Here, sweet, put up this, ‘twill be thine another day.
(didascalia)	Exit attended
BOYET	Who is the suitor? Who is the suitor?
ROSALINE	Shall I teach you to know?
BOYET	Ay, my continent of beauty.
ROSALINE	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 miscarry. Finely put on.
ROSALINE	Well then, I am the shooter.
BOYET	And who is your deer?
ROSALINE	If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. Finely put on indeed!
MARIA	You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
BOYET	But she herself is hit tower—have I hit her now?
ROSALINE	Shall I come upon thee with an old saying that was a man when King Pépin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?
BOYET	So I may answer thee with one as old that was a woman when Queen Guinevere of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
ROSALINE	(sings) Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
BOYET	(sings) An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can.
(didascalia)	Exit Rosaline
COSTARD	By my troth, most pleasant How both did fit it!
MARIA	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.
MARIA	Wide o’ the bow hand—i’faith, your hand is out.
COSTARD	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.
COSTARD	Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
MARIA	Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
COSTARD	She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir. Challenge her to bowl.
BOYET	I fear too much rubbing. Goodnight, my good owl.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Boyet, Maria, and Catherine
COSTARD	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 incony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit! Armado o‘th’ t’other side—O, 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 nit!
(didascalia)	Shout within
COSTARD	Sola, sola!
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Dull, Holofernes the pedant, and Nathaniel the curate
NATHANIEL	Very reverend sport, truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience.
HOLOFERNES	The deer was, as you know—sanguis—in blood, ripe as the pomewater who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.
NATHANIEL	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.
HOLOFERNES	Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
DULL	‘Twas not a ‘auld grey doe’, ’twas a pricket.
HOLOFERNES	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 deer.
DULL	I said the deer was not a ‘auld grey doe’, ‘twas a pricket.
HOLOFERNES	Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus! O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
NATHANIEL	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’s mind: ‘Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.’
DULL	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?
HOLOFERNES	Dictynna, Goodman Dull, Dictynna, Goodman Dull.
DULL	What is ‘Dictima’?
NATHANIEL	A title to Phoebe, to luna, to the moon.
HOLOFERNES	The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, And raught not to five weeks when he came to five score. Th’allusion holds in the exchange.
DULL	’Tis true, indeed, the collusion holds in the exchange.
HOLOFERNES	God comfort thy capacity, I say th’allusion holds in the exchange.
DULL	And I say the pollution 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.
HOLOFERNES	Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? And to humour the ignorant call I the deer the Princess killed a pricket.
NATHANIEL	Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.
HOLOFERNES	I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility. The preyful 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 ‘I’ to ‘sore‘, then ‘sorel’ jumps from thicket— Or pricket sore, or else sorel. The people fall a- hooting. If sore be sore, then ‘I’ to ‘sore’ makes fifty sores—O sore ‘I’! Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more ‘I’.
NATHANIEL	A rare talent!
DULL	If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.
HOLOFERNES	This is a gift that I have, simple, simpte—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 delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.
NATHANIEL	Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you. You are a good member of the commonwealth.
HOLOFERNES	Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious they shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us. Enter Jaquenetta, and Costard the clown
JAQUENETTA	God give you good-morrow, Master Parson.
HOLOFERNES	Master Parson, quasi ‘pierce one’ ? And if one should be pierced, which is the one?
COSTARD	Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is likeliest to a hogshead.
HOLOFERNES	‘Of piercing a hogshead’—a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth, fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine—‘tis pretty, it is well.
JAQUENETTA	Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter. It was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado. I beseech you read it. She gives the letter to Nathaniel, who reads it
HOLOFERNES	(to himself) ‘Facile precor gelida quando pecas omnia sub umbra ruminat’, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice: Venezia, Venezia, Chi non ti vede, chi non ti prezia. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan—who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. (He sings) Ut, re, Sol, la, mi, fa. (To Nathaniel) Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? Or rather, as Horace says in his—what, my soul—verses?
NATHANIEL	Ay, sir, and very learned.
HOLOFERNES	Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse. Lege, domine.
NATHANIEL	(reads) ‘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 oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias 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 Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O pardon, love, this wrong, That singeth heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.’
HOLOFERNES	You find not the apostrophus, 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 domicella— virgin—was this directed to you?
JAQUENETTA	Ay, Sir.
HOLOFERNES	I will overglance 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 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, accidentally or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. (To Jaquenetta) 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.
JAQUENETTA	Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save your life.
CUSTARD	Have with thee, my girl. Exit with Jaquenetta
NATHANIEL	Sir, you have done this in the fear of God very religiously, and, as a certain father saith—
HOLOFERNES	Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses—did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?
NATHANIEL	Marvellous well for the pen.
HOLOFERNES	I do dine today 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 savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society.
NATHANIEL	And thank you too, for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life.
HOLOFERNES	And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. (To Dull) 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

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Biron with a paper in his hand, alone
BIRON	The King, he is hunting the deer. I am coursing myself. They have pitched a toil, I am toiling in a pitch—pitch that defiles. Denle—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 o’ my side. 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 (showing a paper) is part of my rhyme, and here (touching his breast) 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. Here comes one with a paper. God give him grace to groan. He stands aside. The King entereth with a paper
KING	Ay me!
BIRON	(aside) Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid, thou hast thumped him with thy birdbolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets.
KING	(reads) ‘So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose As thy eyebeams when their 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 that swell in me And they thy glory through my grief will show. 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. Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?
(didascalia)	Enter Longueville with papers. The King steps aside
KING	What, Longueville, and reading—listen, ear!
BIRON	(aside) Now in thy likeness one more fool appear!
LONGUEVILLE	Ay me! I am forsworn.
BIRON	(aside) Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
KING	(aside) In love, I hope! Sweet fellowship in shame.
BIRON	(aside) One drunkard loves another of the name.
LONGUEVILLE	Am I the first that have been perjured so?
BIRON	(aside) I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know. Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of love’s Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.
LONGUEVILLE	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.
BIRON	(aside) O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose, Disfigure not his slop.
LONGUEVILLE	This same shall go. He reads the sonnet ‘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 breath a vapour 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	(aside) This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess, pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend: we are much out o’th’ way.
(didascalia)	Enter Dumaine with a paper
LONGUEVILLE	(aside) By whom shall I send this? Company? Stay. He steps aside
BIRON	(aside) All hid, all hid—an old infant play. Like a demigod 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. Dumaine transformed—four woodcocks in a dish!
DUMAINE	O most divine Kate!
BIRON	(aside) O most profane coxcomb!
DUMAINE	By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!
BIRON	(aside) By earth, she is not, corporal; there you lie.
DUMAINE	Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.
BIRON	(aside) An amber-coloured raven was well noted.
DUMAINE	As upright as the cedar.
BIRON	(aside) Stoop, I say. Her shoulder is with child.
DUMAINE	As fair as day.
BIRON	(aside) Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
DUMAINE	O that I had my wishl
LONGUEVILLE	(aside) And I had mine!
KING	(aside) And I mine too, good Lord!
BIRON	(aside) Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?
DUMAINE	I would forget her, but a fever she Reigns in my blood and will remembered be.
BIRON	(aside) A fever in your blood—why then, incision Would let her out in saucers—sweet misprision.
DUMAINE	Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ.
BIRON	(aside) Once more I’ll mark how love can vary wit. Dumaine reads his sonnet
DUMAINE	‘On a day—atack 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, Wished himself the heavens’ 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 great 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 Longueville Were lovers too! Ill to example ill Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note, For none offend where all alike do dote.
LONGUEVILLE	(coming forward) Dumaine, 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	(coming forward) Come, sir, you blush. As his, your case is such. You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not love Maria? Longueville 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 jovel’ the other cries. One, her hairs were gold; crystal the other’s eyes. (To Longueville) You would for paradise break faith and troth, (To Dumaine) And Jove for your love would infringe an oath. What will Biron say when that he shall hear Faith so 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.
BIRON	(coming forward) 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 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? (To Longueville) You found his mote, the King your mote did see, But I a beam do find in each of three. O, what a scene of fool’ry 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 Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at pushpin with the boys, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumaine? And, gentle Longueville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege’s? All about the breast. A caudle, ho!
KING	Too bitter is thy jest. Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view?
BIRON	Not you to me, but I betrayed by 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 you, men of inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme, Or groan for Joan, or spend a minute’s time In pruning 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 limb?
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.
(didascalia)	Enter aquenetta with a letter, and Costard the clown
JAQUENETTA	God bless the King!
KING	What present hast thou there?
COSTARD	Some certain treason.
KING	What makes treason here?
COSTARD	Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
KING	If it mar nothing neither, The treason and you go in peace away together!
JAQUENETTA	I beseech your grace, let this letter be read. Our parson misdoubts it; ’twas treason, he said.
KING	Biron, read it over. Biron takes and reads the letter (To Jaquenetta) Where hadst thou it?
JAQUENETTA	Of Costard.
KING	(to Costard) Where hadst thou it?
COSTARD	Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. Biron tears the letter
KING	(to Biron) How now, what is in you? Why dost thou tear it?
BIRON	A toy, my liege, a toy. Your grace needs not fear it.
LONGUEVILLE	It did move him to passion, and therefore let’s hear it.
DUMAINE	(taking up a piece of the letter) It is Biron’s writing, and here is his name.
BIRON	(to Costard) Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shamel 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-e’en you, my liege-and I Are pickpurses in love, and we deserve to die. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
DUMAINE	Now the number is even.
BIRON	True, true; we are four. Will these turtles be gone?
KING	Hence, sirs; away.
COSTARD	Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta
BIRON	Sweet lords, sweet tovers!—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 cannot cross the cause why we were 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 Ind At the first op’ning 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 inspired 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. Of all complexions the culled 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— Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not. To things of sale a seller’s praise belongs. She passes praise—then praise too short doth blot. A withered hermit fivescore 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. O, ’tis the sun that maketh all things shine.
KING	By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
BIRON	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 dungeons and the style of night, And beauty’s crest becomes the heavens well.
BIRON	Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady’s brows be decked, It mourns that painting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect, And therefore is she born 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.
DUMAINE	To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.
LONGUEVILLE	And since her time are colliers counted bright.
KING	And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.
DUMAINE	Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
BIRON	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 today.
BIRON	I’ll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.
KING	No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
DUMAINE	I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
LONGUEVILLE	(showing his foot) Look, here’s thy love—my foot and her face see.
BIRON	O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
DUMAINE	O vile! Then as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walked overhead.
KING	But what of this? Are we not all in love?
BIRON	Nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn.
KING	Then leave this chat and, good Biron, now prove Our loving lawful and our faith not torn.
DUMAINE	Ay, marry there, some flattery for this evil.
LONGUEVILLE	O, some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets how to cheat the devil.
DUMAINE	Some salve for perjury.
BIRON	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. 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 enriched you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain, And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil. But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain, But with the motion of all elements Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power Above their functions and their offices. 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 stopped. Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails. Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. For valour, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx, as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute strung with his hair; And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were tempered with love’s sighs. O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive. They sparkle still the right Promethean fire. They are the books, the arts, the academes That show, contain, and nourish all the world, Else none at all in aught proves excellent. Then fools you were these women to forswear, Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom’s sake—a word that all men love— Or for love’s sake—a word that loves all men— Or for men’s sake—the authors of these women— Or women’s sake—by whom we men are men— Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn, For charity itself fulfils the law, And who can sever love from charity?
KING	Saint Cupid, then, and, soldiers, to the field!
BIRON	Advance your standards, and upon them, lords. Pell-mell, down with them; but be first advised In conflict that you get the sun of them.
LONGUEVILLE	Now to plain dealing. Lay these glozes by. 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.
BIRON	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, masques, and merry hours Forerun fair love, strewing her way with flowers.
KING	Away, away, no time shall be omitted That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
BIRON	Allons, allons! Sowed cockle reaped no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure. Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn. If so, our copper buys no better treasure. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Holofernes the pedant, Nathaniel the curate, and Anthony Dull
HOLOFERNES	Satis quid sufficit.
NATHANIEL	I praise Good for you, sir. Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious, pleasant without scurrility, witty without affections, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the King’s who is intituled, nominated, or called Don Adriano de Armado.
HOLOFERNES	Novi hominum tanquam te. His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
NATHANIEL	A most singular and choice epithet. He draws out his table-book
HOLOFERNES	He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasims, such insociable and point-device companions, such rackers of orthography as to speak ‘dout’, sine ‘b’, when he should say ‘doubt’; ‘det’ when he should pronounce ‘debt’—‘d, e, b, t’, not ‘d, e, t’. He clepeth a calf ‘caul’, half ‘haul’, neighbour vocatur ‘nebour’—‘neigh’ abbreviated ‘ne’. This is abhominaMe—which he would call ‘abominable’. It insinuateth me of insanire—ne intelligis, domine?—to make frantic, lunatic.
NATHANIEL	Laus deo, bone intelligo.
HOLOFERNES	Bone? Bon, fort bon—Priscian a little scratched-‘twill serve.
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart, Mote his boy, and Costard the clown
NATHANIEL	Videsne quis venit? xoLOFeRrrss Video, et gaudio.
ARMADO	(to Mote) Chirrah. xoLOVExNES (to Nathaniel) Quare ‘chirrah’, not ‘sirrah’?
ARMADO	Men of peace, well encountered.
HOLOFERNES	Most military sir, salutation!
MOTE	(aside to Costard) They have been at a great feast of languages and stolen the scraps.
COSTARD	(aside to Mote) O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus. Thou art easier swallowed than a flapdragon.
MOTE	(aside to Costard) Peace, the peal begins.
ARMADO	(to Holofernes) Monsieur, are you not lettered?
MOTE	Yes, yes, he teaches boys the horn-book. What is ‘a, b’ spelled backward, with the horn on his head?
HOLOFERNES	Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.
MOTE	Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn! You hear his learning.
HOLOFERNES	Quis, quis, thou consonant?
MOTE	The last of the five vowels if you repeat them, or the fifth if I.
HOLOFERNES	I will repeat them: a, e, i—
MOTE	The sheep. The other two concludes it: o, u.
ARMADO	Now by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit; snip, snap, quick, and home. It rejoiceth my intellect—true wit.
MOTE	Offered by a child to an old man, which is ‘wit-old’.
HOLOFERNES	What is the figure? What is the figure?
MOTE	Horns.
HOLOFERNES	Thou disputes like an infant. Go whip thy gig.
MOTE	Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circum circa—a gig of a cuckold’s horn.
CUSTARD	An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread. (Giving money) Hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to, thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.
HOLOFERNES	O, I smell false Latin—‘dunghill’ for unguem.
ARMADO	Arts-man, preambulate. We will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?
HOLOFERNES	Or mons, the hill.
ARMADO	At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
HOLOFERNES	I do, sans question.
ARMADO	Sir, it is the King’s most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.
HOLOFERNES	The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon. The word is well culled, choice, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure.
ARMADO	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 important and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, 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 mustachio. But, sweetheart, 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 travel, that hath seen the world. But let that pass. The very all of all is—but, sweetheart, I do implore secrecy—that the King would have me present the Princess-sweet chuck-with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. 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.
HOLOFERNES	Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day to be rendered by our assistance, the King’s command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman before the Princess, I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
NATHANIEL	Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?
HOLOFERNES	Joshua, yourself; myself, Judas Maccabeus; and this gallant gentleman, Hector. This swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules.
ARMADO	Pardon, sir, error! He is not quantity enough for that Worthy’s thumb. He is not so big as the end of his club.
HOLOFERNES	Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in minority. His enter and exit shall be strangling a snake, and I will have an apology for that purpose.
MOTE	An excellent device! So, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry ‘Well done, Hercules, now thou crushest the snake!’—that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it.
ARMADO	For the rest of the Worthies?
HOLOFERNES	I will play three myself.
MOTE	Thrice-worthy gentleman!
ARMADO	Shall I tell you a thing?
HOLOFERNES	We attend.
ARMADO	We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech you, follow.
HOLOFERNES	Via, goodman Dull! Thou hast spoken no word all this while.
DULL	Nor understood none neither, sir.
HOLOFERNES	Allons! We will employ thee.
DULL	I’ll make one in a dance or so, or I will play on the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
HOLOPERNES	Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Princess and her ladies: Rosaline, Maria, and Catherine
PRINCESS	Sweethearts, we shall be 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.
ROSALINE	Madam, came nothing else along with that?
PRINCESS	Nothing but this?—yes, as much love in rhyme As would be crammed up in a sheet of paper Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margin and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
ROSALINE	That was the way to make his godhead wax, For he hath been five thousand year a boy.
CATHERINE	Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows, too.
ROSALINE	You’ll ne’er be friends with him, a killed your sister.
CATHERINE	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 ha’ been a grandam ere she died; And so may you, for a light heart lives long.
ROSALINE	What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
CATHERINE	A light condition in a beauty dark.
ROSALINE	We need more light to find your meaning out.
CATHERINE	You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff, Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.
ROSALINE	Look what you do, you do it still i’th’ dark.
CATHERINE	So do not you, for you are a light wench.
ROSALINE	Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
CATHERINE	You weigh me not? O, that’s you care not for me.
ROSALINE	Great reason, for past care is still past cure.
PRINCESS	Well bandied, both; a set of wit well played. But Rosaline, you have a favour, too. Who sent it? And what is it?
ROSALINE	I would you knew. An if my face were but as fair as yours My favour were as great, be witness this. Nay, I have verses, too, I thank Biron, The numbers true, and were the numb’ring, 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.
PRINCESS	Anything like?
ROSALINE	Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
PRINCESS	Beauteous as ink—a good conclusion.
CATHERINE	Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
ROSALINE	Ware pencils, ho! Let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter. O, that your face were not so full of O’s !
PRINCESS	A pox of that jest; I beshrew all shrews. But Catherine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine ?
CATHERINE	Madam, this glove.
PRINCESS	Did he not send you twain ?
CATHERINE	Yes, madam; and moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover. A huge translation of hypocrisy Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.
MARIA	This and these pearls to me sent Longueville. The letter is too long by half a mile.
PRINCESS	I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart The chain were longer and the letter short?
MARIA	Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
PRINCESS	We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
ROSALINE	They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go. O that I knew he were 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 hests, And make him proud to make me proud that jests! So pursuivant-like would I o’ersway his state That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
PRINCESS	None are so surely caught when they are catched As wit turned fool. Folly in wisdom hatched Hath wisdom’s warrant, and the help of school, And wit’s own grace, to grace a learned fool.
ROSALINE	The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.
MARIA	Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As fool’ry in the wise when wit doth dote, Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.
(didascalia)	Enter Boyet
PRINCESS	Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
BOYET	O, I am stabbed with laughter! Where’s her grace?
PRINCESS	Thy news, Boyet?
BOYET	Prepare, madam, prepare. Arm, wenches, arm. Encounters mounted are Against your peace. Love doth approach disguised, Armed in arguments. You’ll be surprised. Muster your wits, stand in your own defence, Or hide your heads like cowards and fly hence.
PRINCESS	Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say.
BOYET	Under the cool shade of a sycamore I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour When lo, to interrupt my purposed rest Toward that shade I might behold addressed The King and his companions. Warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by And overheard what you shall overhear: That by and by disguised they will be here. Their herald is a pretty knavish page That well by heart hath conned his embassage. Action and accent did they teach him there. ‘Thus must thou speak’, and ‘thus thy body bear’. And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majestical would put him out, ‘For’, quoth the King, ‘an angel shalt thou see, Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’ The boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil. I should have feared her had she been a devil.’ With that all laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. One rubbed his elbow thus, and fleered, and swore A better speech was never spoke before. Another with his finger and his thumb Cried ‘Via, we will do’t, come what will come!’ The third he capered and cried ‘All goes welll’ The fourth turned on the toe and down he fell. With that they all did tumble on the ground With such a zealous laughter, so profound, That in this spleen ridiculous appears, To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.
PRINCESS	But what, but what—come they to visit us?
BOYET	They do, they do, and are apparelled thus
(didascalia)
BOYET	Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. Their purpose is to parley, to court and dance, And every one his love-suit will advance Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know By favours several which they did bestow.
PRINCESS	And will they so ? The gallants shall be tasked, For, ladies, we will every one be masked, And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face. (To Rosaline) Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine. So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. She changes favours with Rosaline (To Catherine and Maria) And change you favours, too. So shall your loves Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. Catherine and Maria change favours
ROSALINE	Come on, then, wear the favours most in sight.
CATHERINE	But in this changing what is your intent?
PRINCESS	The effect of my intent is to cross theirs. They do it but in mockery-merriment, And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook, and so be mocked withal Upon the next occasion that we meet With visages displayed to talk and greet.
ROSALINE	But shall we dance if they desire us to’t?
PRINCESS	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 her face.
BOYET	Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part.
PRINCESS	Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt The rest will ne‘er 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 depart away with shame. A trumpet sounds
BOYET	The trumpet sounds, be masked, the masquers come. The ladies mask.
(didascalia)	Enter blackamoors with music; the boy Mote with
BOYET	a speech ; the King and his lords, disguised as Russians
MOTE	All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
BIRON	(aside) Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.
MOTE	A holy parcel of the fairest dames— The ladies turn their backs to him That ever turned their—backs to mortal views.
BIRON	‘Their eyes’, villain, ‘their eyes’!
MOTE	That ever turned their eyes to mortal views. Out …
BOYET	True, out indeed!
MOTE	Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold—
BIRON	‘Once to behold’, rogue!
MOTE	Once to behold with your sun-beamèd eyes— With your sun-beamèd eyes—
BOYET	They will not answer to that epithet. You were best call it ‘daughter-beamèd’ eyes.
MOTE	They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
BIRON	Is this your perfectness? Be gone, you rogue!
(didascalia)	Exit Mote
ROSALINE	(as the Princess) What would these strangers ? 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 Princess?
BIRON	Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
ROSALINE	What would they, say they?
BOYET	Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
ROSALINE	Why, that they have, and bid them so be gone.
BOYET	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.
BOYET	They say that they have measured many a mile To tread a measure with you on this grass.
ROSALINE	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.
BOYET	If to come hither you have measured miles, And many miles, the Princess bids you tell How many inches doth fill up one mile.
BIRON	Tell her we measure them by weary steps.
BOYET	She hears herself.
ROSALINE	How many weary steps Of many weary miles you have o’ergone Are numbered in the travel of one mile?
BIRON	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.
ROSALINE	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 stars, to shine, Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.
ROSALINE	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. Thou bid’st me beg; this begging is not strange.
ROSALINE	Play, music, then.
(didascalia)	Music plays
ROSALINE	Nay, you must do it soon. Not yet?—no dance! Thus change I like the moon.
KING	Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
ROSALINE	You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.
KING	Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
(didascalia)	215
KING	The music plays, vouchsafe some motion to it.
ROSALINE	Our ears vouchsafe it.
KING	But your legs should do it.
ROSALINE	Since you are strangers and come here by chance We’ll not be nice. Take hands. We will not dance.
KING	Why take we hands, then?
ROSALINE	Only to part friends. Curtsy, sweethearts, and so the measure ends.
KING	More measure of this measure, be not nice.
ROSALINE	We can afford no more at such a price.
KING	Price you yourselves. What buys your company?
ROSALINE	Your absence only.
KING	That can never be.
ROSALINE	Then cannot we be bought, and so adieu— Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
KING	If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.
ROSALINE	In private, then.
KING	I am best pleased with that. The King and Rosaline talk apart
BIRON	(to the Princess, taking her for Rosaline) White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
PRINCESS	Honey and milk and sugar—there is three.
BIRON	Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice— Metheglin, wort, and malmsey—well run, dice! There’s half-a-dozen sweets.
PRINCESS	Seventh sweet, adieu. Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.
BIRON	One word in secret.
PRINCESS	Let it not be sweet.
BIRON	Thou griev’st my gall.
PRINCESS	Gall—bitter!
BIRON	Therefore meet. Biron and the Princess talk apart
DUMAINE	(to Maria, taking her for Catherine) Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
MARIA	Name it.
DUMAINE	Fair lady—
MARIA	Say you so? Fair lord- Take that for your ‘fair lady’.
DUMAINE	Please it you, As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. Dumaine and Maria talk apart
CATHERINE	What, was your visor made without a tongue?
LONGUEVILLE	(taking Catherine for Maria) I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
CATHERINE	O, for your reason ! Quickly, sir, I long.
LONGUEVILLE	You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half.
CATHERINE	‘Veal’, quoth the Dutchman. Is not veal a calf?
LONGUEVILLE	A calf, fair lady?
CATHERINE	No, a fair lord calf.
LONGUEVILLE	Let’s part the word.
CATHERINE	No, I’ll not be your half. Take all and wean it, it may prove an ox.
LONGUEVILLE	Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks ! Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so.
CATHERINE	Then die a calf before your horns do grow.
LONGUEVILLE	One word in private with you ere I die.
CATHERINE	Bleat softly, then. The butcher hears you cry. Longueville and Catherine talk apart
BOYET	The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor’s edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, Above the sense of sense; so sensible Seemeth their conference. Their conceits have wings Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
ROSALINE	Not one word more, my maids. Break off, break off.
BIRON	By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
KING	Farewell, mad wenches, you have simple wits.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the King, lords, and blackamoors
(didascalia)	The ladies unmask
PRINCESS	Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?
BOYET	Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out.
ROSALINE	Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
PRINCESS	O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout ! Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight, Or ever but in visors show their faces? This pert Biron was out of count’nance quite.
ROSALINE	Ah, they were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
PRINCESS	Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
MARIA	Dumaine was at my service, and his sword. ‘Non point,’ quoth I. My servant straight was mute.
CATHERINE	Lord Longueville said I came o’er his heart, And trow you what he called me?
PRINCESS	‘Qualm’, perhaps.
CATHERINE	Yes, in good faith.
PRINCESS	Go, sickness as thou art.
ROSALINE	Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear? The King is my love sworn.
PRINCESS	And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
CATHERINE	And Longueville was for my service born.
MARIA	Dumaine is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
BOYET	Madam, 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.
PRINCESS	Will they return?
BOYET	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.
PRINCESS	How ‘blow’ ? How ‘blow’ ? Speak to be understood.
BOYET	Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud; Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
PRINCESS	Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do If they return in their own shapes to woo?
ROSALINE	Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised, Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised. Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear, And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penned, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us.
BOYET	Ladies, withdraw. The gallants are at hand.
PRINCESS	Whip, to our tents, as roes run over land!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the ladies
(didascalia)	Enter the King, Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville, as themselves
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.
BOYET	I will, and so will she, I know, my lord. Exit
BIRON	This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons peas, And utters it again when God doth please. He is wit’s pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes and wassails, 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 Eve. A can carve too, and lisp, why, this is he That kissed his hand away 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 ushering 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 everyone To show his teeth as white as whales bone, And consciences that will not die in debt Pay him the due of ‘honey-tongued’ Boyet.
KING	A blister on his sweet tongue with my heart, That put Armado’s page out of his part!
(didascalia)	Enter the ladies and Boyet
BIRON	See where it comes. Behaviour, what wert thou Till this madman showed thee, and what art thou now ?
KING	All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
PRINCESS	‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive.
KING	Construe my speeches better, if you may.
PRINCESS	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.
PRINCESS	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.
PRINCESS	You nickname virtue. ‘Vice’ you should have spoke, For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth. Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house’s 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.
PRINCESS	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?
PRINCESS	Ay, in truth, my lord. Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.
ROSALINE	Madam, speak true.—It is not so, my lord. My lady, to the manner of the days, In courtesy gives undeserving praise. We four indeed 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 fain have drink.
BIRON	This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet, Your wits makes wise things foolish. When we greet, With eyes’ best seeing, heaven’s 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.
ROSALINE	This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye—
BIRON	I am a fool, and full of poverty.
ROSALINE	But that you take what doth to you belong It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
BIRON	O, I am yours, and all that I possess.
ROSALINE	All the fool mine!
BIRON	I cannot give you less.
ROSALINE	Which of the visors was it that you wore?
BIRON	Where? When? What visor? Why demand you this?
ROSALINE	There, then, that visor, that superfluous case, That hid the worse and showed the better face.
KING	(aside to the lords) We were descried. They’ll mock us now, downright.
DUMAINE	(aside to the King) Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
PRINCESS	Amazed, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?
ROSALINE	Help, hold his brows, he’ll swoon. Why look you pale? Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
BIRON	Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here 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 nevermore to dance, Nor nevermore in Russian habit wait. O, never will I trust to speeches penned, Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue, Nor never come in visor to my friend, Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song. Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, 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 shall be expressed In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes. And to begin, wench, so God help me, law! My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
ROSALINE	Sans ‘sans’, I pray you.
BIRON	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. Write ‘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 Lord’s tokens on you do I see.
PRINCESS	No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
BIRON	Our states are forfeit. Seek not to undo us.
ROSALINE	It is not so, for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
BIRON	Peace, for I will not have to do with you.
ROSALINE	Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
BIRON	(to the lords) Speak for yourselves. My wit is at an end.
KING	Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse.
PRINCESS	The fairest is confession. Were not you here but even now disguised?
KING	Madam, I was.
PRINCESS	And were you well advised?
KING	I was, fair madam.
PRINCESS	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.
PRINCESS	When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
KING	Upon mine honour, no.
PRINCESS	Peace, peace,forbear. Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
KING	Despise me when I break this oath of mine.
PRINCESS	I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
ROSALINE	Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eyesight, and did value me Above this world, adding thereto moreover That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
PRINCESS	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.
ROSALINE	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.
PRINCESS	Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear, And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. (To Biron) What, will you have me, or your pearl again?
BIRON	Neither of either. I remit both twain. I see the trick on’t. Here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas comedy. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed, Told our intents before, which once disclosed, The ladies did change favours, and then we, Following the signs, wooed 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, (to Boyet) and might not you Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady’s foot by th’ square, 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 allowed. Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. You leer upon me, do you? There’s an eye Wounds like a leaden sword.
BOYET	Full merrily Hath this brave manège, this career been run.
BIRON	Lo, he is tilting straight. Peace, I have done.
(didascalia)	Enter Costard the clown
BIRON	Welcome, pure wit. Thou partest a fair fray.
COSTARD	O Lord, sir, they would know 485 Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
BIRON	What, are there but three?
COSTARD	No, sir, but it is vara fine, For everyone pursents three.
BIRON	And three times thrice is nine.
COSTARD	Not so, sir, under correction, sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us, sir. I can assure you, sir, we know what we know. I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir—
BIRON	Is not nine?
COSTARD	Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
BIRON	By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
COSTARD	O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reck’ning, sir. BIRON How much is it?
COSTARD	O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount. For mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.
BIRON	Art thou one of the Worthies?
COSTARD	It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great. For mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
BIRON	Go, bid them prepare.
COSTARD	We will turn it finely off, sir. We will take some care.
(didascalia)	Exit
KING	Biron, they will shame us. Let them not approach.
BIRON	We are shame-proof, my lord, and ‘tis some policy To have one show worse than the King’s and his company.
KING	I say they shall not come.
PRINCESS	Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now. That sport best pleases that doth least know how. Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
(didascalia)	Dies in the zeal of that which it presents,
PRINCESS	There form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth.
BIRON	A right description of our sport, my lord.
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart
ARMADO	(to the King) Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.
(didascalia)	Armado and the King speak apart
PRINCESS	Doth this man serve God?
BIRON	Why ask you?
PRINCESS	A speaks not like a man of God his making.
ARMADO	That is all one, my fair sweet honey monarch, for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical, too-too vain, too-too vain. But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement.
(didascalia)	Exit
KING	Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy, the swain Pompey the Great, the parish curate Alexander, Armado’s page Hercules, the pedant Judas Maccabeus, And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits and present the other five.
BIRON	There is five in the first show.
KING	You are deceived, ’tis not so.
BIRON	The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy, Abate throw at novum and the whole world again Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
KING	The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
(didascalia)	Enter Costard the clown as Pompey
COSTARD	(as Pompey) I Pompey am—
BIRON	You lie, you are not he.
COSTARD	(as Pompey) I Pompey am—
BOYET	With leopard’s head on knee.
BIRON	Well said, old mocker. I must needs be friends with thee.
COSTARD	(as Pompey) I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big.
DUMAINE	‘The Great’.
COSTARD	It is ‘Great’, sir— (As Pompey) Pompey surnamed the Great, That oft in field with targe and shield did make my foe to sweat, And travelling along this coast I here am come by chance, And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.— If your ladyship would say ‘Thanks, Pompey’, I had done.
(didascalia)	PRTNCESS Great thanks, great Pompey.
COSTARD	‘Tis not so much worth, but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in ‘great’.
BIRON	My hat to a halfpenny Pompey proves the best Worthy. Costard stands aside.
(didascalia)	Enter Nathaniel the curate as Alexander
NATHANIEL	(as Alexander) When in the world I lived I was the world’s commander. By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might. My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander.
BOYET	Your nose says no, you are not, for it stands too right.
BIRON	(to Boyet) Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.
PRINCESS	The conqueror is dismayed. Proceed, good Alexander.
NATHANIEL	(as Alexander) When in the world I lived I was the world’s commander.
BOYET	Most true, ’tis right, you were so, Alisander.
BIRON	(to Costard) Pompey the Great.
COSTARD	Your servant, and Costard.
BIRON	Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
COSTARD	(to Nathaniel) O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander the Conqueror. You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion that holds his poleaxe sitting on a close-stool will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror and afeard to speak? Run away for shame, Alisander.
(didascalia)	Exit Nathaniel the curate
COSTARD	There, an’t shall please you, a foolish mild man, an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler, but for Alisander—alas, you see how ‘tis—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.
PRINCESS	Stand aside, good Pompey.
(didascalia)	Enter Holofernes the pedant as Judas, and the boy Mote as Hercules
HOLOFERNES	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. (To Mote) Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.
(didascalia)	Exit Mote
HOLOFERNES	(as Judas) Judas I am—
DUMAINE	A Judas?
HOLOFERNES	Not Iscariot, sir. (As Judas) Judas I am, yclept Maccabeus.
DUMAINE	Judas Maccabeus clipped is plain Judas.
BIRON	A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas ?
HOLOFERNES	(as Judas) Judas I am—
DUMAINE	The more shame for you, Judas.
HOLOFERNES	What mean you, sir?
BOYET	To make Judas hang himself.
HOLOFERNES	Begin, sir. You are my elder.
BIRON	Well followed—Judas was hanged on an elder.
HOLOFERNES	I will not be put out of countenance. 601
BIRON	Because thou hast no face.
HOLOFERNES	What is this?
BOYET	A cittern-head.
DUMAINE	The head of a bodkin.
BIRON	A death’s face in a ring.
LONGUEVILLE	The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
BOYET	The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.
DUMAINE	The carved-bone face on a flask.
BIRON	Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.
DUMAINE	Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
BIRON	Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance.
HOLOFERNES	You have put me out of countenance.
BIRON	False, we have given thee faces.
HOLOFERNES	But you have outfaced them all.
BIRON	An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
BOYET	Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
DUMAINE	For the latter end of his name.
BIRON	For the ass to the Jude. Give it him. Jud-as, away.
HOLOFERNES	This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
BOYET	A light for Monsieur Judas. It grows dark, he may stumble.
(didascalia)	Exit Holofernes
PRINCESS	Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been baited !
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart as Hector
BIRON	Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in arms.
DUMAINE	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.
LONGUEVILLE	His leg is too big for Hector’s.
DUMAINE	More calf, certain.
BOYET	No, he is best endowed in the small.
BIRON	This cannot be Hector.
DUMAINE	He’s a god, or a painter, for he makes faces.
ARMADO	(as Hector) The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift—
DUMAINE	A gilt nutmeg.
BIRON	A lemon.
LONGUEVILLE	Stuck with cloves.
DUMAINE	NO, cloven.
ARMADO	Peace I (As Hector) The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion, A man so breathed that certain he would fight, yea, From morn till night, out of his pavilion. I am that flower—
DUMAINE	That mint.
LONGUEVILLE	That colombine.
ARMADO	Sweet Lord Longueville, rein thy tongue.
LONGUEVILLE	I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.
DUMAINE	Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.
ARMADO	The sweet war-man is dead and rotten. Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried. When he breathed he was a man. But I will forward with my device. (To the Princess) Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. Biron steps forth
PRINCESS	Speak, brave Hector, we are much delighted.
ARMADO	I do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.
BOYET	Loves her by the foot.
DUMAINE	He may not by the yard.
ARMADO	(as Hector) This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.
(didascalia)
ARMADO	The party is gone.
COSTARD	Fellow Hector, she is gone, she is two months on her way.
ARMADO	What meanest thou?
COSTARD	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.
ARMADO	Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.
COSTARD	Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him. 675
DUMAINE	Most rare Pompey!
BOYET	Renowned Pompey!
BIRON	Greater than great—great, great, great Pompey, Pompey the Huge.
DUMAINE	Hector trembles.
BIRON	Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates—stir them on, stir them on!
DUMAINE	Hector will challenge him.
BIRON	Ay, if a have no more man’s blood in his belly than will sup a flea.
ARMADO	By the North Pole, I do challenge thee.
COSTARD	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.
DUMAINE	Room for the incensed Worthies.
COSTARD	I’ll do it in my shirt.
DUMAINE	Most resolute Pompey.
MOTE	(aside to Armado) Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose your reputation.
ARMADO	Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me. I will not combat in my shirt.
DUMAINE	You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.
ARMADO	Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
BIRON	What reason have you for’t?
ARMADO	The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance.
(didascalia)	MOTE True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen, since when I’ll be sworn he wore none but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta’s, and that a wears next his heart, for a favour.
(didascalia)	Enter a messenger, Monsieur Mercadé
ARMADO	MERCADÉ God save you, madam.
PRINCESS	Welcome, Mercadé, But that thou interrupt’st our merriment. MERCADÉ I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father—
PRINCESS	Dead, for my life. MERCADÉ Even so. My tale is told.
BIRON	Worthies, away. The scene begins to cloud.
ARMADO	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Worthies
KING	How fares your majesty ?
QUEEN	Boyet, prepare. I will away tonight.
KING	Madam, not so, I do beseech you stay.
QUEEN	Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours, and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide The liberal opposition of our spirits. If 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 nimble 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 loose decides That which long process could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progeny Forbid the smiling courtesy of love The holy suit which fain it would convince, Yet since love’s argument was first on foot, Let not the cloud of sorrow jostle it From what it purposed, since to wail friends lost Is not by much so wholesome-profitable As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
QUEEN	I understand you not. My griefs are double.
BIRON	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 foul play 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 strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance; Which parti-coated presence of loose love Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, Those heavenly eyes that look into these faults Suggested us to make them. 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.
QUEEN	We have received your letters full of love, Your favours the ambassadors of love, And in our maiden council rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time. But more devout than this in our respects Have we not been, and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment.
DUMAINE	Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest.
LONGUEVILLE	So did our looks.
ROSALINE	We did not quote them so.
KING	Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.
QUEEN	A time, methinks, 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 frosts 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 will 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 entitled in the other’s heart.
KING	If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest The sudden hand of death close up mine eye. Hence, hermit, then. My heart is in thy breast. They talk apart
DUMAINE	(to Catherine) But what to me, my love? But what to me? A wife?
CATHERINE	A beard, fair health, and honesty. With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
DUMAINE	O, shall I say ‘I thank you, gentle wife’?
CATHERINE	Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say. Come when the King doth to my lady come; Then if I have much love, I’ll give you some.
DUMAINE	I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
CATHERINE	Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again. They talk apart
LONGUEVILLE	What says Maria?
MARIA	At the twelvemonth’s end I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
LONGUEVILLE	I’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.
MARIA	The liker you—few taller are so young. They talk apart
BIRON	(to Rosaline) 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.
ROSALINE	Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, Which you on all estates will execute That lie within the mercy of your wit. To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, And therewithal to win me if you please, Without the which I am not to be won, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick and still converse With groaning wretches, and your task shall be With all the fierce endeavour of your wit To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
BIRON	To move wild laughter in the throat of death?— It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
ROSALINE	Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools. A jest’s 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.
BIRON	A twelvemonth? Well, befall what will befall, I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
QUEEN	(to the King) Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave.
KING	No, madam, we will bring you on your way.
BIRON	Our wooing doth not end like an old play. Jack hath not Jill. These ladies’ courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy.
KING	Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth an’ a day, And then ’twill end.
BIRON	That’s too long for a play.
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart
ARMADO	(to the King) Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me.
QUEEN	Was not that Hector?
DUMAINE	The worthy knight of Troy.
ARMADO	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.
ARMADO	Holla, approach!
(didascalia)	Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Costard, Mote, Dull, Jaquenetta, and others
ARMADO	This side is Hiems, winter, This Ver, the spring, the one maintained by the owl, The other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
SPRING	(sings) When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks, all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then on every tree Mocks married men, for thus sings 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 sings he: Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo—O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.
WINTER	(sings) When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; When blood is nipped, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit, tu-whoo!—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson’s saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian’s nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit, tu-whoo!—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
(didascalia)	ARMADO The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way, we this way. Exeunt, severally
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. The following lines found after 4.3.293 in the First Quarto represent an unrevised version of parts of Biron’s long speech, 4.3.287-341. The first six lines form the basis of 4.3.294-9; the next three are revised at 4.3.326- 30; the next four at 4.3.300-2; the last nine are less directly related to the revised version. And where that you have vowed to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study’s excellence Without the beauty of a woman’s face? From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive. They are the ground, the books, the academes, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. Why, universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller. 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 author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are, our learning likewise is. Then when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes With ourselves. Do we not likewise see our learning there? B. The following two lines, spoken by the Princess and found after 5.2.130 in the First Quarto, seem to represent a first draft of 5.2.131-2. Hold, Rosaline. This favour thou shalt wear, And then the King will court thee for his dear. C. The following lines found after 5.2.809 in the First Quarto represent a draft version of 5.2.824-41.
BIRON	And what to me, my love? And what to me?
ROSALINE	You must be purged, too. Your sins are rank. You are attaint with faults and perjury. Therefore if you my favour mean to get A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest But seek the weary beds of people sick.
LOVE’S LABOUR’S WON	A BRIEF ACCOUNT
IN	1598, Francis Meres called as witnesses to Shakespeare’s excellence in comedy ‘his Gentlemen of Verona, his Errors, his Love Labour’s Lost, his Love Labour’s Wone, his Midsummer’s Night Dream, and his Merchant of Venice’. This was the only evidence that Shakespeare wrote a play called Love’s Labour’s Won until the discovery in 1953 of a fragment of a bookseller’s list that had been used in the binding of a volume published in 1637/8. The fragment itself appears to record titles sold from 9 to 17 August 1603 by a book dealer in the south of England. Among items headed ‘[inte]rludes & tragedyes’ are marchant of vennis taming of a shrew knak to know a knave knak to know an honest man loves labor lost loves labor won No author is named for any of the items. All the plays named in the list except Love’s Labour’s Won are known to have been printed by 1600; all were written by 1596-7. Taken together, Meres’s reference in 1598 and the 1603 fragment appear to demonstrate that a play by Shakespeare called Love’s Labour’s Won had been performed by the time Meres wrote and was in print by August 1603. Conceivably the phrase served as an alternative title for one of Shakespeare’s other comedies, though the only one believed to have been written by 1598 but not listed by Meres is The Taming of the Shrew, which is named (as The Taming of A Shrew) in the bookseller’s fragment. Otherwise we must suppose that Love’s Labour’s Won is the title of a lost play by Shakespeare, that no copy of the edition mentioned in the bookseller’s list is extant, and that Heminges and Condell failed to include it in the 1623 Folio. None of these suppositions is implausible. We know of at least one other lost play attributed to Shakespeare (see Cardenio, below), and of many lost works by contemporary playwrights. No copy of the first edition of Titus Andronicus was known until 1904; for I Henry IV and The Passionate Pilgrim only a fragment of the first edition survives. And we now know that Troilus and Cressida was almost omitted from the 1623 Folio (probably for copyright reasons) despite its evident authenticity. It is also possible that, like most of the early editions of Shakespeare’s plays, the lost edition of Love’s Labour’s Won did not name him on the title-page, and this omission might go some way to explaining the failure of the edition to survive, or (if it does) to be noticed. Love’s Labour’s Won stands a much better chance of having survived, somewhere, than Cardenio: because it was printed, between 500 and 1,500 copies were once in circulation, whereas for Cardenio we know of only a single manuscript. The evidence for the existence of the lost play (unlike that for Cardenio) gives us little indication of its content. Meres explicitly states, and the title implies, that it was a comedy. Its titular pairing with Love’s Labour’s Lost suggests that they may have been written at about the same time. Both Meres and the bookseller’s catalogue place it after Love’s Labour’s Lost; although neither list is necessarily chronological, Meres’s does otherwise agree with our own view of the order of composition of Shakespeare’s comedies.

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ferdinand, King of Navarre, Biron, Longueville, and Dumaine
KING	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, Th’endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour which shall bate his scythe’s 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 world’s desires— Our late edict shall strongly stand in force. Navarre shall be the wonder of the world. Our court shall be a little academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three—Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville— 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. If you are armed to do as sworn to do, Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it, too.
LONGUEVILLE	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 bankrupt quite the wits. He signs
DUMAINE	My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified. The grosser manner of these world’s delights He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves. To love, to wealth, to pomp I pine and die, With all these living in philosophy. He signs
BIRON	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, 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 enrolled there. O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep— Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.
KING	Your oath is passed to pass away from these.
BIRON	Let me say no, my liege, an if you please. I only swore to study with your grace, And stay here in your court, for three years’ space.
LONGUEVILLE	You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
BIRON	By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. What is the end of study, let me know?
KING	Why, that to know which else we should not know.
BIRON	Things hid and barred, you mean, from common sense.
KING	Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense.
BIRON	Come 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 feast 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 study’s gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know. Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say no.
KING	These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight.
BIRON	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 indeed By fixing it upon a fairer eye, Who dazzling so, that eye shall be 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 heaven’s lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know is to know naught but fame, And every godfather can give a name.
KING	How well he’s read, to reason against reading!
DUMAINE	Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.
LONGUEVILLE	He weeds the corn and still lets grow the weeding.
BIRON	The spring is near when green geese are a-breeding.
DUMAINE	How follows that?
BIRON	Fit in his place and time.
DUMAINE	In reason nothing.
BIRON	Something then in rhyme.
KING	Biron is like an envious sneaping frost, That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
BIRON	Well, say I am! Why should proud summer boast Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows, But like of each thing that in season grows. So you to study, now it is too late, Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate.
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 sworn, 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	(giving a paper) How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
BIRON	(reads) ‘Item: that no woman shall come within a mile of my court.’ Hath this been proclaimed?
LONGUEVILLE	Four days ago.
BIRON	Let’s see the penalty. ‘On pain of losing her tongue.’ Who devised this penalty?
LONGUEVILLE	Marry, that did I.
BIRON	Sweet lord, and why?
LONGUEVILLE	To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
BIRON	A dangerous law against gentility. ‘Item: if any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possible 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— 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’admirèd Princess hither.
KING	What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot.
BIRON	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.
KING	We must of force 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; For every man with his affects is born, 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 write my name, And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame. He signs 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?
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 who the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; A man of complements, 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 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.
LONGUEVILLE	Costard the swain and he shall be our sport, And so to study three years is but short.
(didascalia)	Enter a constable, Anthony Dull, with Costard with a letter
DULL	Which is the Duke’s own person?
BIRON	This, fellow. What wouldst?
DULL	I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace’s farborough. But I would see his own person in flesh and blood.
BIRON	This is he.
DULL	Senor Arm—Arm—commends you. There’s villainy abroad. This letter will tell you more.
COSTARD	Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. KING A letter from the magnificent Armado.
BIRON	How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.
LONGUEVILLE	A high hope for a low heaven. God grant us patience.
BIRON	To hear, or forbear laughing?
LONGUEVILLE	To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both.
BIRON	Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness.
COSTARD	The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
BIRON	In what manner?
COSTARD	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; 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.
BIRON	For the ‘following’, sir?
COSTARD	As it shall follow in my correction; and God defend the right.
KING	Will you hear this letter with attention?
BIRON	As we would hear an oracle.
COSTARD	Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.
KING	(reads) ‘Great deputy, the welkin’s vicegerent and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul’s earth’s god, and body’s fostering patron’—
COSTARD	Not a word of Costard yet.
KING	‘So it is’—
COSTARD	It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so.
KING	Peace!
COSTARD	Be to me and every man that dares not fight.
KING	No words!
COSTARD	Of other men’s secrets, I beseech you.
KING	‘So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving 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 and most preposterous event that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest. But to the place where. It standeth north-north-east and 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’—
COSTARD	Me?
KING	‘That unlettered, small-knowing sout’—
COSTARD	Me?
KING	‘That shallow vassal’—
COSTARD	Still me?
KING	‘Which, as I remember, hight Costard’—
COSTARD	O, me!
KING	‘Sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, with, with, O with—but with this I passion to say wherewith’—COSTARD With a wench.
KING	‘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 meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace’s officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.’
DULL	Me, an’t shall please you. I am Anthony Dull.
KING	‘For Jaquenetta—so is the weaker vessel called—which I apprehended 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 heartburning heat of duty, Don Adriano de Armado.’
BIRON	This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.
KING	Ay, the best for the worst. (To Costard) But, sirrah, what say you to this?
COSTARD	Sir, I confess the wench.
KING	Did you hear the proclamation?
COSTARD	I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.
KING	It was proclaimed a year’s imprisonment to be taken with a wench.
COSTARD	I was taken with none, sir. I was taken with a damsel.
KING	Well, it was proclaimed ‘damsel’.
COSTARD	This was no damsel, neither, sir. She was a virgin.
(didascalia)	KING It is so varied, too, for it was proclaimed ‘virgin’.
COSTARD	If it were, I deny her virginity. I was taken with a maid.
KING	This ‘maid’ will not serve your turn, sir.
COSTARD	This maid will serve my turn, sir.
KING	Sir, I will pronounce your sentence. You shall fast a week with bran and water.
COSTARD	I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
KING	And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My lord Biron, see him delivered o’er, And go we, lords, to put in practice that Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the King, Longueville, and Dumaine
BIRON	I’ll lay my head to any good man’s hat These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on.
COSTARD	I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl, and therefore, welcome the sour cup of prosperity, affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Ferdinando, Re di Navarra, Biron, Longueville e Dumaine
RE	La fama, che tutti inseguono in vita, viva iscritta sulle nostre tombe di bronzo, e ci onori poi nell’onta della morte, quando, a dispetto del tempo divoratore e ingordo, lo sforzo di questo presente respiro possa comprare quell’onore che smusserà il filo tagliente della sua falce e ci farà eredi di tutta l’eternità. Perciò, prodi conquistatori—ché tali siete, voi che guerreggiate contro i vostri stessi affetti e contro l’immenso esercito dei desideri del mondo— il nostro recente editto starà saldo in vigore. La Navarra sarà la meraviglia del mondo. La nostra corte sarà una piccola accademia, quieta e contemplativa nell’arte del vivere. Voi tre—Biron, Dumaine e Longueville— avete giurato di vivere con me per tre anni quali miei compagni di studio, e d’osservare gli statuti che son registrati in questa carta qui. I vostri giuramenti son fatti; ora sottoscrivete i nomi, sì che la propria mano abbatta il proprio onore a chi violi il più piccolo articolo qui dentro. Se siete armati a fare quel che giuraste, sottoscrivete i vostri profondi giuramenti, e osservateli pure.
LONGUEVILLE	Son risoluto. Non è che un digiuno di tre anni. La mente banchetterà, benché il corpo languisca. Pance grasse han magre teste, e i bocconi ghiotti arricchiscon le costole ma fan del tutto fallire l’ingegno. Firma
DUMAINE	Mio amato signore, Dumaine è mortificato. La più grossolana maniera di questi diletti mondani egli la getta ai più vili schiavi del mondo grossolano. All’amore, alla ricchezza, al fasto io languisco e muoio, vivendo con tutti costoro nella filosofia. Firma
BIRON	Non posso che ripetere la loro protesta. Fin qui, caro sire, ho già giurato: cioè, di vivere e studiare qui tre anni. Ma vi son altre strette osservanze, come non veder donna in quel termine, che spero bene non sia iscritta lì dentro; e un giorno la settimana non toccar cibo, e un solo pasto in ciascun altro giorno, il che spero non sia iscritto lì dentro; e poi dormire solo tre ore nella notte, e non esser visto chiuder occhio in tutto il giorno, mentre ero solito non pensare a male per tutta la notte, e far buia notte anche di metà del giorno, il che spero bene non sia iscritto lì dentro. Oh, questi son còmpiti sterili, troppo duri da mantenere— non veder dame, studiare, digiunare, non dormire.
RE	Il vostro giuramento è dato per passar oltre a queste cose.
BIRON	Lasciate ch’io dica di no, mio sire, se vi piace. Giurai soltanto di studiare con vostra grazia, e di restar qui nella vostra corte, per lo spazio di tre anni.
LONGUEVILLE	A quello giuraste, Biron, e a tutto il resto.
BIRON	Per il sì e per il no, signore, allora giurai per burla. Qual è il fine dello studio, fatemelo sapere.
RE	Ma sapere ciò che altrimenti non sapremmo.
BIRON	Cose nascoste e precluse, volete dire, al senso comune.
RE	Sì, questa è la ricompensa divina dello studio.
BIRON	Avanti, dunque, giurerò di studiare così per sapere la cosa che m’è vietato sapere, come questa: studiare dove possa bene pranzare quando m’è espressamente vietato banchettare, o studiare dove incontrare qualche bella dama quando le dame sono nascoste al senso comune; o, avendo giurato un giuramento troppo duro da tenere, studiare come infrangerlo e non infranger la mia fede. Se il guadagno dello studio è questo, e se è così, lo studio sa quello che ancora non sa. Fatemi giurare a questo, e non dirò mai di no.
RE	Questi son gl’intoppi che affatto impediscono lo studio, e avviano i nostri intelletti a vano diletto.
BIRON	Ma tutti i diletti son vani, e più vano quello che, comprato con pena, eredita pena; come penosamente chinarsi su un libro per cercar la luce della verità, mentre la verità frattanto gli acceca ingannevolmente la vista dello sguardo. La luce, cercando luce, defrauda la luce della luce; sì che, prima di trovar dove la luce giace nel buio, la vostra luce s’oscura per la perdita degli occhi. Studiate piuttosto come piacere davvero all’occhio fissandolo sopra un occhio più bello, che, abbagliandolo così, gli sarà di guida, e gli darà quella luce da cui fu accecato. Lo studio è come il glorioso sole dei cieli, che non si lascia scrutare a fondo da sguardi insolenti. Poco han mai guadagnato i continui sgobboni se non una vile autorità dai libri altrui. Questi terreni padrini delle luci del cielo, che dànno un nome a ogni stella fissa, non traggon dalle loro notti splendenti più profitto di quelli che camminano e non sanno cosa esse siano. Troppo sapere è non saper altro che fama, e ogni padrino sa dare un nome.
RE	Com’è ben letterato, per ragionare contro il leggere!
DUMAINE	Ben progredito, per arrestare ogni buon progresso.
LONGUEVILLE	Sradica il grano e lascia pur crescere l’erbaccia.
BIRON	La primavera è vicina, quando le oche verdi covano.
DUMAINE	Come segue questo?
BIRON	S’adatta al suo luogo e al suo tempo.
DUMAINE	In ragione, per nulla.
BIRON	Qualcosa allora in rima.
RE	Biron è come un invidioso gelo mordente, che morde i primogeniti figli della primavera.
BIRON	Bene, e sia! Perché dovrebbe vantarsi la superba estate prima che gli uccelli abbiano ragione di cantare? Perché dovrei gioire d’una nascita abortiva? A Natale non desidero una rosa più di quanto brami la neve fra le nuove pompe di maggio, ma amo ogni cosa che cresca nella sua stagione. Così voi a studiare, ora che è troppo tardi, scavalcate la casa per aprire il cancelletto.
RE	Bene, restatene fuori. Andate a casa, Biron. Addio.
BIRON	No, mio buon signore, ho giurato di restar con voi. E benché abbia parlato più per la barbarie che per quell’angelica sapienza che potete dire, pure con fermezza terrò quel che ho giurato, e sconterò la penitenza di ciascun giorno dei tre anni. Datemi la carta. Ch’io la legga, e ai più severi decreti scriverò il mio nome.
RE	(porgendo una carta) Come bene questa resa ti salva dalla vergogna!
BIRON	(legge) ‘Item: che nessuna donna venga a un miglio dalla mia corte.’ È stato proclamato questo?
LONGUEVILLE	Quattro giorni fa.
BIRON	Vediamo la pena. ‘Sotto pena di perdere la lingua.’ Chi ha escogitato questa pena?
LONGUEVILLE	Perbacco, io stesso.
BIRON	Dolce signore, e perché?
LONGUEVILLE	Per scacciarle di qui col terrore di quella pena.
BIRON	Legge pericolosa contro la gentilezza. ‘Item: se alcun uomo sia visto parlare con una donna entro il termine di tre anni, subirà quella pubblica onta che il resto della corte possa mai escogitare.’ Quest’articolo, mio sire, dovrete infrangerlo voi stesso; ché ben sapete che qui viene in ambasceria la figlia del Re di Francia per parlare con voi— fanciulla di grazia e di compiuta maestà— circa la resa dell’Aquitania al suo decrepito, infermo e allettato padre. Perciò quest’articolo è fatto invano, o invano viene qua l’ammirata Principessa.
RE	Che dite, signori? Ma questo l’avevamo del tutto scordato.
BIRON	Così lo studio sempre manca il bersaglio. Mentre studia per avere ciò che vuole, dimentica di fare ciò che dovrebbe; e quando ha la cosa che più insegue, l’ha vinta come città col fuoco—così vinta, così perduta.
RE	Per forza dobbiamo derogare a questo decreto. Ella dovrà alloggiar qui, per pura necessità.
BIRON	La necessità ci farà tutti spergiuri tremila volte entro lo spazio di questi tre anni; ché ogni uomo nasce coi propri affetti, non domati dalla forza, ma da grazia speciale. Se rompo la fede, questa parola parlerà per me: sono spergiuro per pura necessità. Così alle leggi tutte scrivo il mio nome, e chi le infrange nel minimo grado resta colpito da eterna infamia. Firma Le tentazioni sono per gli altri come per me, ma credo, benché sembri tanto restio, d’essere l’ultimo che terrà per ultimo il suo giuramento. Ma non ci è concesso qualche pronto svago?
RE	Sì, certo. La nostra corte, sapete, è frequentata da un raffinato viaggiatore di Spagna, uomo piantato in tutte le nuove mode del mondo, che ha nel cervello una zecca di frasi. Uno che la musica della propria vana lingua rapisce come armonia incantevole; un uomo di complimenti, che il torto e la ragione han scelto ad arbitro della loro contesa. Questo figlio della fantasia, che si chiama Armado, come intermezzo ai nostri studi racconterà con parole altisonanti il valore di più d’un cavaliere della fulva Spagna, perduto nella contesa del mondo. Quanto vi diletti, signori, io non so; ma protesto che amo sentirlo mentire, e me ne servirò come del mio menestrello.
BIRON	Armado è un uomo illustrissimo, uomo di parole nuove di fuoco, cavaliere della moda in persona.
LONGUEVILLE	Costard il villano e lui saranno il nostro spasso, e così studiare tre anni è ben poco.
(didascalia)	Entra un connestabile, Anthony Dull, con Costard e una lettera
DULL	Qual è la persona propria del Duca?
BIRON	Questa, amico. Che vorresti?
DULL	Io stesso reprendo la sua propria persona, ché sono il conestabolo di sua grazia. Ma vorrei vedere la sua propria persona in carne e sangue.
BIRON	È lui.
DULL	Il segnor Arm—Arm—vi saluta. C’è ribalderia in giro. Questa lettera vi dirà di più.
COSTARD	Signore, i contempti della medesima riguardano me. RE Una lettera dal magnifico Armado.
BIRON	Per quanto bassa sia la materia, spero in Dio parole alte.
LONGUEVILLE	Alta speranza per un cielo basso. Dio ci conceda pazienza.
BIRON	Di ascoltare, o di trattenere il riso?
LONGUEVILLE	Di ascoltare umilmente, signore, e di ridere moderatamente, o di astenersi da entrambe le cose.
BIRON	Bene, signore, sia come lo stile ci darà motivo di salire nell’allegria.
COSTARD	La materia riguarda me, signore, quanto a Jaquenetta. La maniera è questa: fui colto sulla maniera.
BIRON	In che maniera?
COSTARD	In maniera e forma seguente, signore—tutte e tre le cose. Fui visto con lei nella casa padronale, seduto con lei sulla panca, e colto mentre la seguivo nel parco; il che, messo insieme, fa ‘in maniera e forma seguente’. Ora, signore, quanto alla maniera: è maniera d’uomo parlare a una donna. Quanto alla forma: in qualche forma.
BIRON	E quanto al ‘seguente’, signore?
COSTARD	Come seguirà nella mia correzione; e Dio difenda il diritto.
RE	Volete ascoltare questa lettera con attenzione?
BIRON	Come ascolteremmo un oracolo.
COSTARD	Tale è la semplicità dell’uomo, a porger l’orecchio dietro alla carne.
RE	(legge) ‘Gran vicario, vicegerente del firmamento e solo dominatore della Navarra, dio terreno della mia anima e nutriente patrono del mio corpo’—
COSTARD	Non una parola di Costard ancora.
RE	‘Sta il fatto’—
COSTARD	Può star così; ma s’egli dice che sta così, egli, a dire il vero, non è che così così.
RE	Silenzio!
COSTARD	Sia con me e con ogni uomo che non osa battersi.
RE	Niente parole!
COSTARD	Dei segreti altrui, ve ne supplico.
RE	‘Sta il fatto che, assediato da malinconia color di zibellino, raccomandai il nero opprimente umore alla salubrissima medicina della tua aria datrice di salute e, da gentiluomo qual sono, mi diedi a passeggiare. Il tempo, quando? Circa la sesta ora, quando le bestie più pascolano, gli uccelli meglio beccano, e gli uomini si siedono a quel nutrimento che si chiama cena. Tanto basti quanto al tempo del quando. Ora quanto al suolo il quale—il quale, voglio dire, calpestai. È denominato il tuo parco. Poi quanto al luogo dove—dove, voglio dire, incontrai quell’osceno e preposterissimo evento che trae dalla mia penna bianca di neve l’inchiostro color d’ebano che qui tu vedi, contempli, scruti o scorgi. Ma al luogo dove. Sta a nord-nord-est e verso est dall’angolo occidentale del tuo giardino dai curiosi intrecci. Là vidi quel villano di basso spirito, quel vile pesciolino del tuo spasso’—
COSTARD	Io?
RE	‘Quell’illetterato, quel poco-sapiente zotico’—
COSTARD	Io?
RE	‘Quel superficiale vassallo’—
COSTARD	Ancora io?
RE	‘Il quale, se ben ricordo, si chiama Costard’—
COSTARD	Oh, io!
RE	‘Si accompagnò e consociò, contro il tuo stabilito e proclamato editto e canone di continenza, con, con, oh con—ma con questo mi appassiono a dire con che cosa’—COSTARD Con una ragazza.
RE	‘Con una figlia della nostra nonna Eva, una femmina, o, per tua più dolce intelligenza, una donna. Costui io, come il mio sempre onorato dovere mi sprona, ho mandato a te, perché riceva il compenso del castigo, per mezzo dell’ufficiale della tua dolce grazia Anthony Dull, uomo di buona fama, portamento, contegno e stima.’
DULL	Io, con vostra licenza. Sono Anthony Dull.
RE	‘Quanto a Jaquenetta—così si chiama il vaso più debole—che sorpresi col suddetto villano, la tengo come vaso del furore della tua legge, e al minimo tuo dolce cenno la condurrò a giudizio. Tuo in tutti i complimenti di devoto e ardente calore di dovere, Don Adriano de Armado.’
BIRON	Non è così bene come m’aspettavo, ma il meglio che abbia mai udito.
RE	Sì, il meglio nel peggio. (A Costard) Ma tu, briccone, che dici a questo?
COSTARD	Signore, confesso la ragazza.
RE	Udiste la proclamazione?
COSTARD	Confesso molto d’averla udita, ma poco d’averci badato.
RE	Fu proclamato un anno di prigionia per chi fosse colto con una ragazza.
COSTARD	Non fui colto con nessuna ragazza, signore. Fui colto con una damigella.
RE	Bene, fu proclamato anche ‘damigella’.
COSTARD	E nemmeno questa era una damigella, signore. Era una vergine.
(didascalia)	RE Anche questo è previsto, ché fu proclamato pure ‘vergine’.
COSTARD	Se così fu, io nego la sua verginità. Fui colto con una fanciulla.
RE	Questa ‘fanciulla’ non servirà al vostro scopo, signore.
COSTARD	Questa fanciulla servirà al mio scopo, signore.
RE	Signore, pronuncerò la vostra sentenza. Digiunerete una settimana a crusca e acqua.
COSTARD	Preferirei pregare un mese a montone e minestra.
RE	E Don Armado sarà il vostro custode. Mio signor Biron, badate che vi sia consegnato, e andiamo, signori, a metter in pratica quello che ciascuno all’altro ha così fermamente giurato.
(didascalia)	Escono il Re, Longueville e Dumaine
BIRON	Scommetto la mia testa contro il cappello di qualunque galantuomo che questi giuramenti e leggi si mostreranno vano scherno. Briccone, vieni.
COSTARD	Io soffro per la verità, signore; ché è vero che fui colto con Jaquenetta, e Jaquenetta è una ragazza vera, e perciò, benvenuta l’amara coppa della prosperità; l’afflizione potrà un giorno tornare a sorridere; e fino ad allora, siediti, dolore. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Armado and Mote, his page
ARMADO	Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?
MOTE	A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
ARMADO	Why, sadness is one and the selfsame thing, dear imp.
MOTE	No, no, O Lord, sir, no.
ARMADO	How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?
MOTE	By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough señor.
ARMADO	Why ‘tough señor’? Why ‘tough señor’?
MOTE	Why ‘tender juvenal’? Why ‘tender juvenal’?
ARMADO	I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate ‘tender’.
MOTE	And I, tough señor, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name ‘tough’.
ARMADO	Pretty and apt.
MOTE	How mean you, sir? I ‘pretty’ and my saying ‘apt’? Or I ‘apt’ and my saying ‘pretty’?
ARMADO	Thou ‘pretty’, because little.
MOTE	Little pretty, because little. Wherefore ‘apt’?
ARMADO	And therefore ‘apt’ because quick.
MOTE	Speak you this in my praise, master?
ARMADO	In thy condign praise.
MOTE	I will praise an eel with the same praise.
ARMADO	What—that an eel is ingenious?
MOTE	That an eel is quick.
ARMADO	I do say thou art quick in answers. Thou heatest my blood.
MOTE	I am answered, sir.
ARMADO	I love not to be crossed.
MOTE	(aside) He speaks the mere contrary-crosses love not him.
ARMADO	I have promised to study three years with the Duke.
MOTE	You may do it in an hour, sir.
ARMADO	Impossible. - MOTE How many is one, thrice told?
ARMADO	I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.
MOTE	You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir. ARMADO I confess both. They are both the varnish of a complete man.
MOTE	Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.
ARMADO	It doth amount to one more than two.
MOTE	Which the base vulgar do call three.
ARMADO	True.
MOTE	Why, sir, is this such a piece of study ? Now here is ‘three’ studied ere ye’ll 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. ARMADO A most fine figure.
MOTE	(aside) To prove you a cipher.
ARMADO	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. Methinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy. What great men have been in love?
MOTE	Hercules, master.
ARMADO	Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy. Name more—and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.
MOTE	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.
ARMADO	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 Samson’s love, my dear Mote?
MOTE	A woman, master.
ARMADO	Of what complexion ?
MOTE	Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
ARMADO	Tell me precisely of what complexion?
MOTE	Of the sea-water green, sir.
ARMADO	Is that one of the four complexions?
MOTE	As I have read, sir; and the best of them, too.
ARMADO	Green indeed is the colour of lovers, but to have a love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit.
MOTE	It was so, sir, for she had a green wit.
ARMADO	My love is most immaculate white and red.
MOTE	Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours.
ARMADO	Define, define, well-educated infant.
MOTE	My father’s wit and my mother’s tongue assist me!
ARMADO	Sweet invocation of a child!—most pretty and pathetical.
MOTE	If she be made of white and red Her faults will ne’er be known, For blushing 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; For still her cheeks possess the same Which native she doth owe. A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red.
ARMADO	Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?
MOTE	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.
ARMADO	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 rational hind Costard. She deserves well.
MOTE	(aside) To be whipped—and yet a better love than my master.
ARMADO	Sing, boy. My spirit grows heavy in love.
MOTE	And that’s great marvel, loving a light wench. ARMADO I say, sing.
MOTE	Forbear till this company be past. Enter Costard the clown, Constable Dull, and Jaquenetta, a wench
DULL	(to Armado) 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 allowed for the dey-woman. Fare you well.
ARMADO	(aside) I do betray myself with blushing.—Maid.
JAQUENETTA	Man.
ARMADO	I will visit thee at the lodge.
JAQUENETTA	That’s hereby.
ARMADO	I know where it is situate.
JAQUENETTA	Lord, how wise you are!
ARMADO	I will tell thee wonders.
JAQUENETTA	With that face?
ARMADO	I love thee.
JAQUENETTA	So I heard you say.
ARMADO	And so farewell.
JAQUENETTA	Fair weather after you.
(didascalia)	DULL Come, Jaquenetta, away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta
ARMADO	Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.
COSTARD	Well, sir, I hope when I do it I shall do it on a full stomach.
ARMADO	Thou shalt be heavily punished.
COSTARD	I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.
ARMADO	Take away this villain. Shut him up.
MOTE	Come, you transgressing slave. Away!
COSTARD	Let me not be pent up, sir. I will fast, being loose.
MOTE	No, sir. That were fast and loose. Thou shalt to prison.
COSTARD	Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.
MOTE	What shall some see?
COSTARD	Nay, nothing, Master Mote, 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 another man, and therefore I can be quiet.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Mote and Costard
ARMADO	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 was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength. Yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn: the passado he respects not, the duello 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, write pen, for I am for whole volumes, in folio. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Armado e Mote, il suo paggio
ARMADO	Ragazzo, che segno è quando un uomo di gran spirito diviene malinconico?
MOTE	Un gran segno, signore, che avrà l’aria triste.
ARMADO	Ma la tristezza è una e la medesima cosa, caro monello.
MOTE	No, no, oh Signore, no.
ARMADO	Come puoi separare la tristezza dalla malinconia, mio tenero giovinetto?
MOTE	Con una famigliare dimostrazione del loro operare, mio duro señor.
ARMADO	Perché ‘duro señor’? Perché ‘duro señor’?
MOTE	Perché ‘tenero giovinetto’? Perché ‘tenero giovinetto’?
ARMADO	L’ho detto, tenero giovinetto, come epiteto congruente appartenente ai tuoi giovani giorni, che possiamo nominare ‘teneri’.
MOTE	E io, duro señor, come titolo pertinente al vostro vecchio tempo, che possiamo chiamare ‘duro’.
ARMADO	Grazioso e arguto.
MOTE	Che intendete, signore? Io ‘grazioso’ e il mio detto ‘arguto’? O io ‘arguto’ e il mio detto ‘grazioso’?
ARMADO	Tu ‘grazioso’, perché piccolo.
MOTE	Poco grazioso, perché piccolo. E perché ‘arguto’?
ARMADO	E dunque ‘arguto’ perché svelto.
MOTE	Dite questo in mia lode, padrone?
ARMADO	In tua degna lode.
MOTE	Con la stessa lode loderei un’anguilla.
ARMADO	Come—che un’anguilla sia ingegnosa?
MOTE	Che un’anguilla è svelta.
ARMADO	Dico che sei svelto nelle risposte. Mi riscaldi il sangue.
MOTE	Son servito, signore.
ARMADO	Non amo essere contrariato.
MOTE	(a parte) Dice proprio il contrario: le croci non l’amano.
ARMADO	Ho promesso di studiare tre anni col Duca.
MOTE	Potete farlo in un’ora, signore.
ARMADO	Impossibile. - MOTE Quanto fa uno, contato tre volte?
ARMADO	Son cattivo nel far di conto; s’addice allo spirito d’un oste.
MOTE	Siete un gentiluomo e un giocatore, signore. ARMADO Confesso entrambe le cose. Sono entrambe la vernice d’un uomo compiuto.
MOTE	Allora son certo che sapete a quanto ammonti la somma grossa di due e asso.
ARMADO	Ammonta a uno più di due.
MOTE	Che il basso volgo chiama tre.
ARMADO	Vero.
MOTE	Ebbene, signore, è questo un tal pezzo di studio? Ecco ‘tre’ studiato prima che battiate tre volte le palpebre; e quanto sia facile aggiungere ‘anni’ alla parola ‘tre’ e studiare ‘tre anni’ in due parole, ve lo dirà il cavallo ballerino. ARMADO Figura bellissima.
MOTE	(a parte) Per provare che siete uno zero.
ARMADO	Su questo confesserò d’essere innamorato; e poiché è cosa vile per un soldato amare, così io sono innamorato d’una vile ragazza. Se sguainare la mia spada contro l’umore dell’affetto mi liberasse dal pensiero riprovevole di esso, prenderei prigioniero il desiderio e lo riscatterei a un qualsiasi cortigiano francese per un inchino di nuova invenzione. Sdegno di sospirare. Mi par che dovrei spergiurare più di Cupido. Confortami, ragazzo. Quali grandi uomini furono innamorati?
MOTE	Ercole, padrone.
ARMADO	Dolcissimo Ercole! Più autorità, caro ragazzo. Nominane altri—e, mio dolce figliolo, siano uomini di buona fama e portamento.
MOTE	Sansone, padrone; era uomo di buon portamento, di gran portamento, ché portò le porte della città sulle spalle come un facchino, ed era innamorato.
ARMADO	Oh Sansone ben saldo, Sansone dalle forti giunture! Io ti supero col mio stocco quanto tu superavi me nel portar porte. Anch’io sono innamorato. Chi fu l’amore di Sansone, mio caro Mote?
MOTE	Una donna, padrone.
ARMADO	Di che complessione?
MOTE	Di tutte e quattro, o delle tre, o delle due, o d’una delle quattro.
ARMADO	Dimmi precisamente di che complessione.
MOTE	Del verde d’acqua marina, signore.
ARMADO	È questa una delle quattro complessioni?
MOTE	Così ho letto, signore; e anche la migliore di esse.
ARMADO	Verde è davvero il colore degli innamorati, ma avere un amore di quel colore, mi pare che Sansone n’avesse poca ragione. Certo l’amò per il suo ingegno.
MOTE	Fu così, signore, ché ella aveva un ingegno verde.
ARMADO	Il mio amore è immacolatissimo bianco e rosso.
MOTE	Pensieri maculatissimi, padrone, si mascherano sotto tali colori.
ARMADO	Definisci, definisci, fanciullo ben educato.
MOTE	L’ingegno di mio padre e la lingua di mia madre m’assistano!
ARMADO	Dolce invocazione d’un fanciullo!—graziosissima e pateticissima.
MOTE	Se ella è fatta di bianco e rosso le sue colpe non si sapranno mai, ché le guance rosse nascon da colpa e i timori dal pallido bianco appaiono. Dunque s’ella teme o è da biasimare, da questo non lo saprete; ché sempre le sue guance han quel colore che per natura le appartiene. Rima pericolosa, padrone, contro la ragione del bianco e rosso.
ARMADO	Non c’è una ballata, ragazzo, del Re e della Mendicante?
MOTE	Il mondo fu ben colpevole di tale ballata circa tre età fa, ma credo che ora non si trovi; e se pur si trovasse, non servirebbe né per le parole né per l’aria.
ARMADO	Farò riscrivere di nuovo quel soggetto, per poter esemplificare la mia digressione con qualche possente precedente. Ragazzo, io amo quella contadina che sorpresi nel parco col razionale villano Costard. Ella merita bene.
MOTE	(a parte) D’esser frustata—eppure è un amore migliore del mio padrone.
ARMADO	Canta, ragazzo. Il mio spirito si fa greve d’amore.
MOTE	E questa è gran meraviglia, amando una ragazza leggera. ARMADO Ti dico, canta.
MOTE	Astenetevi finché questa compagnia non sia passata. Entrano Costard il villano, il connestabile Dull e Jaquenetta, una ragazza
DULL	(ad Armado) Signore, piacer del Duca è che teniate Costard al sicuro, e non dovete permettergli né diletto né penitenza, ma ha da digiunare tre giorni la settimana. Quanto a questa damigella, devo tenerla al parco. È assegnata come lattaia. State bene.
ARMADO	(a parte) Mi tradisco arrossendo.—Fanciulla.
JAQUENETTA	Uomo.
ARMADO	Ti verrò a visitare al casino.
JAQUENETTA	È qui vicino.
ARMADO	So dove è situato.
JAQUENETTA	Signore, come siete saggio!
ARMADO	Ti racconterò meraviglie.
JAQUENETTA	Con codesta faccia?
ARMADO	Ti amo.
JAQUENETTA	Così v’ho sentito dire.
ARMADO	E così addio.
JAQUENETTA	Bel tempo dietro di voi.
(didascalia)	DULL Vieni, Jaquenetta, via.
(didascalia)	Escono Dull e Jaquenetta
ARMADO	Furfante, digiunerai per le tue offese prima d’essere perdonato.
COSTARD	Bene, signore, spero che quando lo farò lo farò a stomaco pieno.
ARMADO	Sarai gravemente punito.
COSTARD	Vi sono più obbligato che i vostri servi, ché essi son ricompensati solo leggermente.
ARMADO	Portate via questo furfante. Rinchiudetelo.
MOTE	Vieni, schiavo trasgressore. Via!
COSTARD	Non mi si rinchiuda, signore. Digiunerò, stando sciolto.
MOTE	No, signore. Sarebbe legare e sciogliere. Andrai in prigione.
COSTARD	Bene, se mai rivedrò i giorni allegri di desolazione che ho veduto, qualcuno vedrà.
MOTE	Che cosa vedrà qualcuno?
COSTARD	Ma nulla, mastro Mote, se non ciò su cui posa lo sguardo. Non conviene ai prigionieri esser troppo silenziosi nelle loro parole, e perciò non dirò nulla. Ringrazio Dio d’aver tanto poca pazienza quanto ogni altro uomo, e perciò so star quieto.
(didascalia)	Escono Mote e Costard
ARMADO	Io amo perfino il suolo—che è cosa bassa—dove la sua scarpa—che è più bassa—guidata dal suo piede—che è bassissimo—calpesta. Sarò spergiuro—il che è grande argomento di falsità—se amo. E come può essere vero amore quello che è tentato falsamente? L’amore è uno spirito famigliare; l’amore è un diavolo. Non v’è angelo malvagio se non l’amore. Eppure Sansone fu così tentato, ed aveva forza eccellente. Eppure Salomone fu così sedotto, ed aveva ingegno assai buono. La freccia spuntata di Cupido è troppo dura per la clava d’Ercole, e dunque troppo vantaggio per lo stocco d’uno spagnolo. La prima e la seconda causa non mi serviranno: egli non rispetta la passata, non ha riguardo del duello. La sua onta è d’esser chiamato ragazzo, ma la sua gloria è di soggiogare gli uomini. Addio, valore; arrugginisci, stocco; taci, tamburo: ché il vostro padrone è innamorato; sì, egli ama. Assistimi, qualche estemporaneo dio della rima, ché son certo che diventerò sonetto. Inventa, ingegno; scrivi, penna, ché io son buono per interi volumi, in folio. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Princess of France with three attending ladies-Maria, Catherine, and Rosaline-and three lords, one named Boyet
BOYET	Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits. Consider who the King your father sends, 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 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.
PRINCESS	Good Lord 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 Than 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, Importunes personal conference with his grace. Haste, signify so much while we attend, Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.
BOYET	Proud of employment, willingly I go.
PRINCESS	All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. Exit Boyet Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? A LORD Lord Longueville is one.
PRINCESS	Know you the man?
MARIA	I know him, madam. At a marriage feast Between Lord Perigord and the beauteous heir Of Jaques Fauconbridge solemnized In Normandy saw I this Longueville. A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed, Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms. Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss- If virtue’s gloss will stain with any soil- Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will, Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills It should none spare that come within his power.
PRINCESS	Some merry mocking lord, belike-is’t so?
MARIA	They say so most that most his humours know.
PRINCESS	Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?
CATHERINE	The young Dumaine, 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 Alençon’s once, And much too little of that good I saw Is my report to his great worthiness.
ROSALINE	Another of these students at that time Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. Biron they call him, but a merrier man,
(didascalia)	Within the limit of becoming mirth,
ROSALINE	I never spent an hour’s talk withal. His eye begets occasion for his wit, For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit’s 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.
PRINCESS	God bless my ladies, are they all in love, That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise? A LORD Here comes Boyet.
(didascalia)	Enter Boyet
PRINCESS	Now, what admittance, lord?
BOYET	Navarre had notice of your fair approach, And he and his competitors in oath Were all addressed 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Navarre, Longueville, Dumaine, and Biron
BOYET	Here comes Navarre.
KING	Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.
PRINCESS	‘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.
KING	You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.
PRINCESS	I will be welcome, then. Conduct me thither.
KING	Hear me, dear lady. I have sworn an oath—
PRINCESS	Our Lady help my lord He’ll be forsworn.
KING	Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
PRINCESS	Why, will shall break it—will and nothing else.
KING	Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
PRINCESS	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. She gives him a paper
KING	Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
PRINCESS	You will the sooner that I were away, For you’ll prove perjured if you make me stay. Navarre reads the paper
BIRON	(to Rosaline) Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
(didascalia)	FROSALINE
BIRON	Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
BIRON	I know you did.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	How needless was it then To ask the question!
BIRON	You must not be so quick.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	‘Tis ’long of you, that spur me with such questions.
BIRON	Your wit’s too hot, it speeds too fast, ’twill tire.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
BIRON	What time o’ day?
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	The hour that fools should ask.
BIRON	Now fair befall your mask.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Fair fall the face it covers.
BIRON	And send you many lovers.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Amen, so you be none.
BIRON	Nay, then will I be gone.
KING	(to the Princess) Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns, Being but the one-half 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 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 Aquitaine And hold fair friendship with his majesty. But that, it seems, he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to have repaid A hundred thousand crowns, and not demands, On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, To have his title live in Aquitaine, Which we much rather had depart withal, And have the money by our father lent, Than Aquitaine, so gelded as it is. Dear Princess, were not his requests so far From reason’s yielding, your fair self should make A yielding ’gainst some reason in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again.
PRINCESS	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 Aquitaine.
PRINCESS	We arrest your word. Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a sum from special officers Of Charles, his father.
KING	Satisfy me so.
BOYET	So please your grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound. Tomorrow you shall have a sight of them.
KING	It shall suffice me, at which interview All liberal reason I will yield unto. Meantime 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 shall be so received As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart, Though so denied fair harbour in my house. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell. Tomorrow shall we visit you again.
PRINCESS	Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace.
KING	Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.
(didascalia)	Exit with Longueville and Dumaine
BIRON	(to Rosaline) Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.
ROSALINE	Pray you, do my commendations. I would be glad to see it.
BIRON	I would you heard it groan.
ROSALINE	Is the fool sick?
BIRON	Sick at the heart.
ROSALINE	Alack, let it blood.
BIRON	Would that do it good?
ROSALINE	My physic says ‘Ay’.
BIRON	Will you prick’t with your eye?
ROSALINE	Non point, with my knife.
BIRON	Now God save thy life.
ROSALINE	And yours, from long living.
BIRON	I cannot stay thanksgiving. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Dumaine
DUMAINE	(to Boyet) Sir, I pray you a word. What lady is that same?
BOYET	The heir of Alençon, Catherine her name.
DUMAINE	A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Longueville
LONGUEVILLE	(to Boyet) I beseech you a word, what is she in the white?
BOYET	A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
LONGUEVILLE	Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.
BOYET	She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.
LONGUEVILLE	Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
BOYET	Her mother’s, I have heard.
LONGUEVILLE	God’s blessing on your beard !
BOYET	Good sir, be not offended. She is an heir of Fauconbridge.
LONGUEVILLE	Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady.
BOYET	Not unlike, sir. That may be.
(didascalia)	Exit Longueville
(didascalia)	Enter Biron
BIRON	What’s her name in the cap?
BOYET	Rosaline, by good hap.
BIRON	Is she wedded or no?
BOYET	To her will, sir, or so.
BIRON	O, you are welcome, sir. Adieu.
BOYET	Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
(didascalia)	Exit Biron
MARIA	That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord. Not a word with him but a jest.
BOYET	And every jest but a word.
PRINCESS	It was well done of you to take him at his word.
BOYET	I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Two hot sheeps, marry.
BOYET	And wherefore not ships? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	You sheep and I pasture—shall that finish the jest?
BOYET	So you grant pasture for me.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Not so, gentle beast. My lips are no common, though several they be.
BOYET	Belonging to whom?
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	To my fortunes and me.
PRINCESS	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.
BOYET	If my observation, which very seldom lies, By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
PRINCESS	With what?
BOYET	With that which we lovers entitle ‘affected’.
PRINCESS	Your reason?
BOYET	Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough 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. Methought all his senses were locked in his eye, As jewels in crystal, for some prince to buy, Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glassed, Did point you to buy them along as you passed. His face’s own margin did quote such amazes That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. I’ll give you Aquitaine and all that is his An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
PRINCESS	Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed.
BOYET	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.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BOYET	Thou art an old love-monger, and speak’st skilfully.
(didascalia)	MARIA
BOYET	He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
BOYET	Do you hear, my mad wenches?
(didascalia)	MARIA
BOYET	No.
BOYET	What then, do you see?
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Ay—our way to be gone.
BOYET	You are too hard for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra la Principessa di Francia con tre dame d’onore—Maria, Catherine e Rosaline—e tre signori, uno di nome Boyet
BOYET	Ora, madama, chiamate a raccolta i vostri più cari spiriti. Considerate chi il Re vostro padre manda, a chi lo manda, e qual è la sua ambasceria: voi stessa, tenuta preziosa nella stima del mondo, a trattare con l’unico erede di tutte le perfezioni che un uomo possa avere, l’incomparabile Navarra; e la causa di non minor peso dell’Aquitania, dote da regina. Siate or prodiga d’ogni cara grazia quanto lo fu la natura nel far care le grazie, quando affamò tutto il resto del mondo e prodigalmente le diede tutte a voi.
PRINCIPESSA	Buon signor Boyet, la mia bellezza, per quanto mediocre, non ha bisogno del dipinto fiorire della vostra lode. La bellezza si compra col giudizio dell’occhio, non si spaccia con la vile vendita di lingue mercantili. Meno superba son d’udirvi dire il mio pregio di quanto voi siate voglioso d’esser tenuto saggio spendendo il vostro ingegno in lode del mio. Ma ora, a dar compito al datore di compiti: buon Boyet, non ignorate che la fama, che tutto racconta, va strepitando che il Navarra ha fatto voto che, finché il penoso studio non consumi tre anni, nessuna donna s’accosti alla sua silente corte. Perciò ci pare cosa necessaria, prima d’entrare nelle sue porte proibite, conoscere il suo piacere; e a tal fine, fidando nel vostro valore, scegliamo voi quale nostro più persuasivo e bel patrocinatore. Ditegli che la figlia del Re di Francia, per grave affare, che vuol pronto sbrigo, chiede con insistenza personale colloquio con sua grazia. Affrettatevi, significategli ciò mentre noi attendiamo, come supplici dal volto umile, la sua alta volontà.
BOYET	Fiero dell’incarico, volentieri vado.
PRINCIPESSA	Ogni orgoglio è orgoglio volenteroso, e tale è il vostro. Esce Boyet Chi sono i devoti, miei amabili signori, compagni di voto con questo virtuoso duca? UN SIGNORE Il signor Longueville è uno.
PRINCIPESSA	Conoscete l’uomo?
MARIA	Lo conosco, madama. A una festa di nozze tra il signor di Perigord e la bella erede di Jaques Fauconbridge, celebrata in Normandia, vidi questo Longueville. Uomo di sovrane doti è stimato, ben fornito nelle arti, glorioso nelle armi. Nulla gli sta male di ciò che vuole bene. L’unica macchia sul lustro della sua bella virtù— se il lustro della virtù si macchia di macchia alcuna— è un ingegno aguzzo unito a volontà troppo ottusa, il cui filo ha potere di tagliare, e la cui volontà pur vuole che non risparmi nessuno che gli capiti in potere.
PRINCIPESSA	Qualche signore allegro e beffardo, si direbbe—è così?
MARIA	Lo dicon più quelli che più conoscono i suoi umori.
PRINCIPESSA	Tali ingegni di breve vita appassiscono crescendo. Chi sono gli altri?
CATHERINE	Il giovane Dumaine, giovinetto ben compìto, amato per la virtù da tutti quelli che amano la virtù. Grandissimo potere di far gran male, e minimo sapere del male, ché ha ingegno da far bella una brutta forma, e forma da guadagnar grazia, quand’anche non avesse ingegno. Lo vidi una volta dal duca d’Alençon, e ben troppo poco di quel bene che vidi è il mio racconto rispetto al suo gran valore.
ROSALINE	Un altro di questi studenti in quel tempo era là con lui, se ho udito il vero. Biron lo chiamano, ma uomo più allegro,
(didascalia)	entro il limite d’un’allegria conveniente,
ROSALINE	non ne ho mai frequentato un’ora di conversazione. Il suo occhio genera occasione al suo ingegno, ché ogni oggetto che l’uno coglie l’altro lo volge in facezia che muove al riso, e la sua bella lingua, espositrice dell’arguzia, la porge in parole tanto acconce e graziose che gli orecchi attempati fan scuola marina ai suoi racconti, e gli uditi più giovani ne sono del tutto rapiti, tanto dolce e sciolto è il suo discorso.
PRINCIPESSA	Dio benedica le mie dame: sono tutte innamorate, che ciascuna ha guarnito il proprio con tali adornanti ornamenti di lode? UN SIGNORE Ecco viene Boyet.
(didascalia)	Entra Boyet
PRINCIPESSA	Ebbene, quale accoglienza, signore?
BOYET	Il Navarra ebbe notizia del vostro bel giungere, ed egli e i suoi compagni nel giuramento erano tutti pronti a incontrarvi, gentile signora, prima ch’io venissi. Perbacco, questo ho appreso: vuol piuttosto alloggiarvi nei campi, come una che venga qui ad assediare la sua corte, che cercar dispensa dal suo giuramento per lasciarvi entrare nella sua spopolata casa.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Navarra, Longueville, Dumaine e Biron
BOYET	Ecco viene il Navarra.
RE	Bella Principessa, benvenuta alla corte di Navarra.
PRINCIPESSA	‘Bella’ ve la rendo, e il benvenuto non l’ho ancora avuto. Il tetto di questa corte è troppo alto per esser vostro, e un benvenuto ai vasti campi troppo basso per esser mio.
RE	Sarete la benvenuta, madama, alla mia corte.
PRINCIPESSA	Sarò la benvenuta, dunque. Conducetemi là.
RE	Ascoltatemi, cara signora. Ho prestato un giuramento—
PRINCIPESSA	Nostra Signora aiuti il mio signore! Sarà spergiuro.
RE	Per nulla al mondo, bella madama, per mia volontà.
PRINCIPESSA	Ma la volontà lo romperà—la volontà e nient’altro.
RE	Vostra signoria ignora di che si tratti.
PRINCIPESSA	Se il mio signore l’ignorasse, la sua ignoranza sarebbe saggia, dove ora il suo sapere si mostrerà ignoranza. Odo che vostra grazia ha giurato d’abolire l’ospitalità. È peccato mortale mantenere quel giuramento, signore, e peccato romperlo. Ma perdonatemi, sono troppo repentinamente ardita. Male mi si conviene insegnare a un maestro. Degnatevi di leggere lo scopo della mia venuta, e risolvete pronto la mia richiesta. Gli porge una carta
RE	Madama, lo farò, se pronto lo posso.
PRINCIPESSA	Tanto più presto vorrete ch’io me ne vada, ché sarete spergiuro se mi fate restare. Il Navarra legge la carta
BIRON	(a Rosaline) Non ho ballato con voi una volta nel Brabante?
(didascalia)	FROSALINE
BIRON	Non ho ballato con voi una volta nel Brabante?
BIRON	So che l’avete fatto.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Come fu inutile allora fare la domanda!
BIRON	Non dovete essere così pronta.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	È colpa vostra, che mi spronate con tali domande.
BIRON	Il vostro ingegno è troppo caldo, corre troppo in fretta, si stancherà.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Non prima d’aver lasciato il cavaliere nel fango.
BIRON	Che ora del giorno è?
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	L’ora in cui gli sciocchi dovrebbero chiederlo.
BIRON	Buona sorte alla vostra maschera.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Buona sorte al volto che essa copre.
BIRON	E vi mandi molti innamorati.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BIRON	Amen, purché voi non siate uno di essi.
BIRON	E allora me ne andrò.
RE	(alla Principessa) Madama, vostro padre qui notifica il pagamento di centomila corone, che è solo la metà d’una somma intera sborsata da mio padre nelle sue guerre. Ma poniamo che lui o noi—come nessuno dei due ha fatto— avessimo ricevuto quella somma: resta ancora impagata altra centomila, a garanzia della quale una parte dell’Aquitania ci è vincolata, benché non valga quanto quel denaro. Se dunque il Re vostro padre restituirà soltanto quella metà che resta insoddisfatta, noi cederemo il nostro diritto sull’Aquitania e terremo bella amicizia con sua maestà. Ma questo, pare, egli poco intende, ché qui domanda che gli siano restituite centomila corone, e non domanda, dietro pagamento di centomila corone, che il suo titolo viva nell’Aquitania, della quale assai più volentieri ci separeremmo, riavendo il denaro prestato da nostro padre, che tener l’Aquitania, così mutilata com’è. Cara Principessa, se le sue richieste non fossero tanto lontane da ciò che la ragione concede, la vostra bella persona otterrebbe una resa contro ogni ragione nel mio petto, e tornereste in Francia ben soddisfatta.
PRINCIPESSA	Fate troppo torto al Re mio padre, e fate torto alla reputazione del vostro nome, nel così sconvenientemente negar la ricevuta di ciò che fu così fedelmente pagato.
RE	Protesto che mai ne udii parlare, e se lo provate lo ripagherò o cederò l’Aquitania.
PRINCIPESSA	Prendiamo in pegno la vostra parola. Boyet, voi potete produrre quietanze di tal somma, rilasciate da speciali ufficiali di Carlo, suo padre.
RE	Soddisfatemi così.
BOYET	Piaccia a vostra grazia, non è giunto il plico dove quelle e altre carte son legate. Domani ne avrete visione.
RE	Mi basterà, e in quel colloquio cederò a ogni liberale ragione. Frattanto ricevete dalla mia mano quel benvenuto che l’onore, senza offesa dell’onore, possa offrire al vostro vero valore. Non potete entrare, bella principessa, nelle mie porte, ma qui fuori sarete accolta in tal modo che vi crederete alloggiata nel mio cuore, benché così negato bel ricetto nella mia casa. I vostri buoni pensieri mi scusino, e addio. Domani torneremo a visitarvi.
PRINCIPESSA	Dolce salute e bei desideri accompagnino vostra grazia.
RE	Il vostro stesso augurio auguro a voi in ogni luogo.
(didascalia)	Esce con Longueville e Dumaine
BIRON	(a Rosaline) Signora, vi raccomanderò al mio proprio cuore.
ROSALINE	Di grazia, porgetegli i miei saluti. Sarei lieta di vederlo.
BIRON	Vorrei che lo sentiste gemere.
ROSALINE	È malato il folle?
BIRON	Malato al cuore.
ROSALINE	Ahimè, cavategli sangue.
BIRON	Gli farebbe bene?
ROSALINE	La mia medicina dice ‘sì’.
BIRON	Lo pungerete col vostro occhio?
ROSALINE	Non point, col mio coltello.
BIRON	Ora Dio vi salvi la vita.
ROSALINE	E la vostra, dal lungo vivere.
BIRON	Non posso restare a ringraziare. Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Dumaine
DUMAINE	(a Boyet) Signore, di grazia una parola. Chi è quella dama?
BOYET	L’erede d’Alençon, Catherine il suo nome.
DUMAINE	Dama gagliarda. Monsieur, state bene. Esce
(didascalia)	Entra Longueville
LONGUEVILLE	(a Boyet) Vi supplico una parola: chi è quella in bianco?
BOYET	Una donna, talvolta, se la vedeste alla luce.
LONGUEVILLE	Forse leggera alla luce. Desidero il suo nome.
BOYET	Ne ha uno solo per sé; desiderarlo sarebbe vergogna.
LONGUEVILLE	Di grazia, signore, figlia di chi?
BOYET	Di sua madre, ho sentito dire.
LONGUEVILLE	La benedizione di Dio sulla vostra barba!
BOYET	Buon signore, non v’offendete. È un’erede dei Fauconbridge.
LONGUEVILLE	No, la mia collera è finita. È una dolcissima dama.
BOYET	Non è improbabile, signore. Può essere.
(didascalia)	Esce Longueville
(didascalia)	Entra Biron
BIRON	Come si chiama quella col cappuccio?
BOYET	Rosaline, per buona sorte.
BIRON	È maritata o no?
BOYET	Alla sua volontà, signore, o giù di lì.
BIRON	Oh, siate il benvenuto, signore. Addio.
BOYET	Addio a me, signore, e benvenuto a voi.
(didascalia)	Esce Biron
MARIA	Quest’ultimo è Biron, il signore allegro e scapestrato. Con lui non c’è parola che non sia burla.
BOYET	E ogni burla non è che una parola.
PRINCIPESSA	Faceste bene a prenderlo in parola.
BOYET	Ero pronto all’arrembaggio quanto lui all’abbordaggio.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Due pecore in calore, perbacco.
BOYET	E perché non navi? Non pecore, dolce agnella, a meno che non pascoliamo sulle vostre labbra.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Voi pecora e io pascolo—finirà così la burla?
BOYET	Purché mi concediate il pascolo.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Non così, gentile bestia. Le mie labbra non son terra comune, benché siano divise.
BOYET	Appartenenti a chi?
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Alle mie fortune e a me.
PRINCIPESSA	I buoni ingegni bisticciano; ma, gentili, accordatevi. Questa guerra civile d’ingegni sarebbe assai meglio spesa contro il Navarra e i suoi libreschi, ché qui è sprecata.
BOYET	Se la mia osservazione, che assai di rado mente, guidata dalla muta retorica del cuore rivelata dagli occhi, non m’inganna ora, il Navarra è infetto.
PRINCIPESSA	Di che?
BOYET	Di quello che noi innamorati chiamiamo ‘preso’.
PRINCIPESSA	La vostra ragione?
BOYET	Ebbene, tutti i suoi comportamenti si ritirarono alla corte del suo occhio, spiando attraverso il desiderio. Il suo cuore, come un’agata impressa della vostra effigie, fiero della sua forma, esprimeva orgoglio nell’occhio. La sua lingua, tutta impaziente di parlare e non vedere, inciampava per la fretta d’esser nella sua vista. Tutti i sensi a quel senso si ricoverarono, per sentire solo mirando la più bella fra le belle. Mi parve che tutti i suoi sensi fossero chiusi nell’occhio, come gioielli nel cristallo, perché qualche principe li comprasse, e questi, offrendo il proprio pregio di là dal vetro, vi additavano a comprarli mentre passavate. Il margine stesso del suo volto postillava tali stupori che tutti gli occhi videro i suoi occhi incantati dagli sguardi. Vi darò l’Aquitania e tutto ciò che è suo se voi gli darete per amor mio un solo bacio amoroso.
PRINCIPESSA	Venite, al nostro padiglione. Boyet è in vena.
BOYET	Solo di dire in parole ciò che il suo occhio ha svelato. Non ho fatto che una bocca del suo occhio aggiungendovi una lingua, che so non mentirà.
(didascalia)	ROSALINE
BOYET	Sei un vecchio mezzano d’amore, e parli con perizia.
(didascalia)	MARIA
BOYET	È il nonno di Cupido, e da lui apprende le notizie.
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Allora Venere somigliava a sua madre, ché suo padre è ben arcigno.
BOYET	Udite, mie pazze ragazze?
(didascalia)	MARIA
BOYET	No.
BOYET	Che allora, vedete?
(didascalia)	CATHERINE
BOYET	Sì—la nostra via per andarcene.
BOYET	Siete troppo forti per me.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart, and Mote his boy
ARMADO	Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
MOTE	(sings) Concolinel.
ARMADO	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.
MOTE	Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
ARMADO	How meanest thou—brawling in French?
MOTE	No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue’s 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 as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose as if you snuffed up love by smelling love, with your hat penthouse-like o’er the shop of your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket like a 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.
ARMADO	How hast thou purchased this experience?
MOTE	By my penny of observation.
ARMADO	But O, but O-
MOTE	‘The hobby-horse is forgot.’
ARMADO	Call’st thou my love hobby-horse ?
MOTE	No, master, the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
ARMADO	Almost I had.
MOTE	Negligent student, learn her by heart.
ARMADO	By heart and in heart, boy.
MOTE	And out of heart, master. All those three I will prove. 36
ARMADO	What wilt thou prove?
MOTE	A man, if I live; and this, ‘by’, ‘in’, and ‘without’, upon the instant: ‘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.
ARMADO	I am all these three.
MOTE	(aside) And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
ARMADO	Fetch hither the swain. He must carry me a letter.
MOTE	(aside) A message well sympathized—a horse to be ambassador for an ass.
ARMADO	Ha, ha! What sayst thou?
MOTE	Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.
ARMADO	The way is but short. Away!
MOTE	As swift as lead, sir. 55
ARMADO	The meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ?
MOTE	Minime, honest master—or rather, master, no.
ARMADO	I say lead is slow.
MOTE	You are too swift, sir, to say so. Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
ARMADO	Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon, and the bullet, that’s he. I shoot thee at the swain.
MOTE	Thump, then, and I flee.
(didascalia)	Exit
ARMADO	A most acute juvenal—voluble 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Mote the page, and Costard the clown
MOTE	A wonder, master—here’s a costard broken in a shin.
ARMADO	Some enigma, some riddle; come, thy l’envoi. Begin.
COSTARD	No egma, no riddle, no l‘envoi, no salve in the mail, sir. O sir, plantain, a plain plantain—no l’envoi, no l’envoi, no salve, sir, but a plantain.
ARMADO	By virtue, thou enforcest laughter—thy silly thought my spleen. The heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l‘envoi, and the word l’envoi for a salve?
MOTE	Do the wise think them other? Is not l’envoi a salve ?
ARMADO	No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it. so The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three. There’s the moral. Now the /’envoi.
MOTE	I will add the l’envoi. Say the moral again.
ARMADO	The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three.
MOTE	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 l’envoi. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three.
ARMADO	Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.
MOTE	A good l’envoi, ending in the goose. Would you desire more?
COSTARD	The boy hath sold him a bargain—a goose, that’s flat. Sir, your pennyworth is good an your goose be fat. To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose. Let me see, a fat l’envoi-ay, that’s a fat goose.
ARMADO	Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
MOTE	By saying that a costard was broken in a shin. Then called you for the l’envoi.
COSTARD	True, and I for a plantain. Thus came your argument in. Then the boy’s fat l’envoi, the goose that you bought, and he ended the market.
ARMADO	But tell me, how was there a costard broken in a shin?
MOTE	I will tell you sensibly.
COSTARD	Thou hast no feeling of it. Mote, I will speak that l’envoi. I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.
ARMADO	We will talk no more of this matter.
COSTARD	Till there be more matter in the shin.
ARMADO	Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
COSTARD	O, marry me to one Frances! I smell some l’envoi, some goose, in this.
ARMADO	By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person. Thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.
COSTARD	True, true, and now you will be my purgation and let me loose.
ARMADO	I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant to the country maid, Jaquenetta. (Giving him a letter) There is remuneration (giving him money), for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependants. Mote, follow. Exit
MOTE	Like the sequel, I. Signor Costard, adieu. Exit
COSTARD	My sweet ounce of man’s flesh, my incony Jew! Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration— O, that’s the Latin word for three-farthings. Three farthings—remuneration. ‘What’s the price of this inkle?’ ‘One penny.’ ‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration.’ Why, it carries it! Remuneration! Why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.
(didascalia)	Enter Biron
BIRON	My good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.
COSTARD	Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?
BIRON	What is a remuneration?
COSTARD	Marry, sir, halfpenny-farthing.
BIRON	Why, then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
COSTARD	I thank your worship. God be wi’ you.
BIRON	Stay, slave, I must employ thee. As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
COSTARD	When would you have it done, sir?
BIRON	This afternoon.
CUSTARD	Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well.
BIRON	Thou knowest not what it is.
CUSTARD	I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
BIRON	Why, villain, thou must know first.
COSTARD	I will come to your worship tomorrow 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 tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her, And to her white hand see thou do commend This sealed-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon (giving him a letter and money), go.
COSTARD	Guerdon! O sweet guerdon!—better than remuneration, elevenpence-farthing better—most sweet guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print. Guerdon—remuneration. Exit
BIRON	And I, forsooth, in love—I that have been love’s whip, A very beadle to a humorous sigh, A critic, 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 Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid, Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, Th’anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, Sole imperator and great general Of trotting paritors—O my little heart! And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop! What? 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, 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— Ay, 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, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan: Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Armado il fanfarone e Mote, il suo ragazzo
ARMADO	Gorgheggia, fanciullo; fa’ appassionato il mio senso dell’udito.
MOTE	(canta) Concolinel.
ARMADO	Dolce aria! Va’, tenerezza d’anni, prendi questa chiave. Dà libertà al villano. Portalo qui festinamente. Devo impiegarlo per una lettera al mio amore.
MOTE	Padrone, volete conquistare il vostro amore con una branle francese?
ARMADO	Che intendi—azzuffarsi in francese?
MOTE	No, mio compìto padrone; ma sgranare un’arietta sulla punta della lingua, ballarci sopra una canaria coi piedi, condirla con l’umore d’alzare le palpebre, sospirare una nota e cantarne un’altra, ora dalla gola come se inghiottiste l’amore cantando l’amore, ora dal naso come se aspiraste l’amore annusando l’amore; col cappello a tettoia sopra la bottega dei vostri occhi, con le braccia incrociate sul farsetto dal ventre magro come un coniglio allo spiedo, o le mani in tasca come un uomo d’un vecchio dipinto; e non insistete troppo a lungo su un solo motivo, ma un ritaglio e via. Questi sono i complimenti, questi gli umori; questi tradiscono le ragazze schizzinose, che si lascerebbero tradire anche senza; e fanno uomini di nota—notate?—quegli uomini che più sono dediti a queste cose.
ARMADO	Come hai acquistato questa esperienza?
MOTE	Col mio soldo d’osservazione.
ARMADO	Ma oh, ma oh—
MOTE	‘Il cavallo di legno è dimenticato.’
ARMADO	Chiami il mio amore cavallo di legno?
MOTE	No, padrone, il cavallo di legno non è che un puledro, e il vostro amore forse una rozza da nolo. Ma avete dimenticato il vostro amore?
ARMADO	Quasi l’avevo dimenticato.
MOTE	Studente negligente, imparatela a memoria.
ARMADO	A memoria e in cuore, ragazzo.
MOTE	E fuori di cuore, padrone. Tutte e tre le cose proverò. 36
ARMADO	Che cosa proverai?
MOTE	Un uomo, se vivo; e questo, ‘a’, ‘in’ e ‘fuori’, all’istante: ‘a’ memoria la amate perché il vostro cuore non può averla; ‘in’ cuore la amate perché il vostro cuore è innamorato di lei; e ‘fuori’ di cuore la amate, essendo scoraggiato di non poterla godere.
ARMADO	Io sono tutte e tre queste cose.
MOTE	(a parte) E tre volte tanto ancora, e tuttavia niente affatto.
ARMADO	Conducimi qua il villano. Deve portarmi una lettera.
MOTE	(a parte) Messaggio ben assortito—un cavallo ambasciatore per un asino.
ARMADO	Ah, ah! Che dici?
MOTE	Perbacco, signore, dovete mandare l’asino sul cavallo, ché ha l’andatura assai lenta. Ma vado.
ARMADO	La via è breve. Via!
MOTE	Veloce come il piombo, signore. 55
ARMADO	Il significato, grazioso ingegnoso? Non è il piombo metallo greve, ottuso e lento?
MOTE	Minime, onesto padrone—o piuttosto, padrone, no.
ARMADO	Io dico che il piombo è lento.
MOTE	Siete troppo veloce, signore, a dir così. È lento quel piombo che è sparato da un cannone?
ARMADO	Dolce fumo di retorica! Mi reputa un cannone, e la palla è lui. Ti sparo addosso al villano.
MOTE	Bum, dunque, e io volo.
(didascalia)	Esce
ARMADO	Giovinetto acutissimo—sciolto e generoso di grazia. Col tuo favore, dolce firmamento, devo sospirarti in faccia. Rozzissima malinconia, il valore ti cede il luogo. Il mio araldo è tornato.
(didascalia)	Entrano Mote il paggio e Costard il villano
MOTE	Una meraviglia, padrone—ecco una zucca rotta in uno stinco.
ARMADO	Qualche enigma, qualche indovinello; su, il tuo l’envoi. Comincia.
COSTARD	Nessun enimma, nessun indovinello, nessun l’envoi, nessun unguento nella bisaccia, signore. Oh signore, piantaggine, una semplice piantaggine—niente l’envoi, niente l’envoi, niente unguento, signore, ma una piantaggine.
ARMADO	Per virtù, tu mi strappi il riso—il tuo sciocco pensiero la mia milza. Il sollevarsi dei miei polmoni mi provoca a ridicolo sorriso. Oh perdonatemi, mie stelle! Prende l’inconsiderato l’unguento per l’envoi, e la parola l’envoi per un unguento?
MOTE	I saggi le pensano diverse? Non è l’envoi un unguento?
ARMADO	No, paggio, è un epilogo o discorso per far chiaro qualche oscuro precedente che innanzi sia stato detto. Lo esemplificherò. so La volpe, la scimmia e il calabrone eran sempre in lite, essendo solo tre. Ecco la morale. Ora il /’envoi.
MOTE	Aggiungerò io il l’envoi. Ripetete la morale.
ARMADO	La volpe, la scimmia e il calabrone eran sempre in lite, essendo solo tre.
MOTE	Finché l’oca non uscì dalla porta e sedò la lite aggiungendo il quarto. Ora comincerò io la vostra morale, e voi seguite col mio l’envoi. La volpe, la scimmia e il calabrone eran sempre in lite, essendo solo tre.
ARMADO	Finché l’oca non uscì dalla porta, sedando la lite aggiungendo il quarto.
MOTE	Un buon l’envoi, che finisce nell’oca. Desiderate di più?
COSTARD	Il ragazzo gli ha venduto una beffa—un’oca, chiaro e tondo. Signore, il vostro soldo è ben speso se la vostra oca è grassa. Vender bene una beffa è astuto quanto il gioco del lega e sciogli. Vediamo: un l’envoi grasso—sì, quella è un’oca grassa.
ARMADO	Vieni qua, vieni qua. Come cominciò questo argomento?
MOTE	Col dire che una zucca era rotta in uno stinco. Poi voi chiedeste il l’envoi.
COSTARD	Vero, e io una piantaggine. Così entrò il vostro argomento. Poi il grasso l’envoi del ragazzo, l’oca che compraste, e lui chiuse il mercato.
ARMADO	Ma dimmi, come fu che una zucca fu rotta in uno stinco?
MOTE	Ve lo dirò sensatamente.
COSTARD	Tu non ne hai sensazione. Mote, quel l’envoi lo dirò io. Io, Costard, correndo fuori, che ero al sicuro dentro, caddi sulla soglia e mi ruppi lo stinco.
ARMADO	Non parleremo più di questa materia.
COSTARD	Finché non ci sia più materia nello stinco.
ARMADO	Ehi tu, Costard, ti affrancherò.
COSTARD	Oh, sposatemi a una certa Francesca! Fiuto qualche l’envoi, qualche oca, in questo.
ARMADO	Per la mia dolce anima, intendo metterti in libertà, liberare la tua persona. Eri murato, ristretto, cattivato, legato.
COSTARD	Vero, vero, e ora sarete la mia purga e mi lascerete andar sciolto.
ARMADO	Ti dò la tua libertà, ti tolgo dalla prigionia, e in luogo di ciò non t’impongo altro che questo: porta questo significante alla contadina Jaquenetta. (Gli dà una lettera) Ecco la rimunerazione (gli dà del denaro), ché la miglior difesa del mio onore è ricompensare i miei dipendenti. Mote, seguimi. Esce
MOTE	Come il séguito, io. Signor Costard, addio. Esce
COSTARD	Mia dolce oncia di carne d’uomo, mio grazioso giudeo! Ora esaminerò la sua rimunerazione. Rimunerazione— oh, è la parola latina per tre quattrini. Tre quattrini—rimunerazione. ‘Qual è il prezzo di questo nastro?’ ‘Un soldo.’ ‘No, vi darò una rimunerazione.’ Ecco, la vince! Rimunerazione! Ma è un nome più bello di corona francese. Non comprerò né venderò mai fuori di questa parola.
(didascalia)	Entra Biron
BIRON	Mio buon furfante Costard, oltremodo ben trovato.
COSTARD	Di grazia, signore, quanto nastro color carne può comprare un uomo con una rimunerazione?
BIRON	Che cos’è una rimunerazione?
COSTARD	Perbacco, signore, mezzo soldo e un quattrino.
BIRON	Ebbene, allora tre quattrini di seta.
COSTARD	Ringrazio vostra signoria. Dio sia con voi.
BIRON	Fermati, schiavo, devo impiegarti. Se vuoi guadagnare il mio favore, buon furfante mio, fa’ per me una cosa che ti chiederò.
COSTARD	Quando volete che sia fatta, signore?
BIRON	Questo pomeriggio.
CUSTARD	Bene, la farò, signore. State bene.
BIRON	Non sai di che si tratta.
CUSTARD	Lo saprò, signore, quando l’avrò fatta.
BIRON	Ma, furfante, devi saperlo prima.
COSTARD	Verrò da vostra signoria domattina.
BIRON	Dev’essere fatta questo pomeriggio. Ascolta, schiavo, non è che questo: la Principessa viene a caccia qui nel parco, e nel suo séguito v’è una gentile dama. Quando le lingue parlano dolcemente, allora dicono il suo nome, e Rosaline la chiamano. Chiedi di lei, e alla sua bianca mano bada di consegnare questo consiglio sigillato. Ecco il tuo guiderdone (dandogli una lettera e del denaro), va’.
COSTARD	Guiderdone! Oh dolce guiderdone!—meglio della rimunerazione, undici soldi e un quattrino meglio—dolcissimo guiderdone! Lo farò, signore, a puntino. Guiderdone—rimunerazione. Esce
BIRON	E io, in verità, innamorato—io che sono stato la frusta dell’amore, vero sbirro d’un sospiro capriccioso, un critico, anzi, un connestabile di ronda notturna, un pedante tiranno su quel ragazzo, di cui nessun mortale è tanto magnifico. Questo ragazzo bendato, piagnucoloso, mezzo cieco, capriccioso, questo signorino Giovane, gigantesco nano, messer Cupido, reggente delle rime d’amore, signore delle braccia conserte, unto sovrano di sospiri e gemiti, signore di tutti gli oziosi e i malcontenti, temuto principe delle gonne, re delle brachette, solo imperatore e gran generale dei trotterellanti apparitori—oh mio piccolo cuore! E io essere un caporale del suo campo, e portare i suoi colori come il cerchio d’un saltimbanco! Che? Io amo, io corteggio, io cerco moglie?— Una donna, che è come un orologio tedesco, sempre da riparare, sempre fuori squadra, e mai che vada giusta, pur essendo un orologio, se non è sorvegliata perché vada giusta. Anzi, esser spergiuro, che è il peggio di tutto, e fra tre amare la peggiore di tutte— una sgualdrinella pallida dal ciglio di velluto, con due palle di pece infisse in volto per occhi— sì, e, per il cielo, una che farà la cosa anche s’Argo fosse il suo eunuco e la sua guardia. E io a sospirare per lei, a vegliare per lei, a pregare per lei—suvvia, è una piaga che Cupido m’impone per il mio disprezzo della sua onnipotente terribile piccola potenza. Bene, io amerò, scriverò, sospirerò, pregherò, corteggerò, gemerò: certi uomini devono amare la mia dama, e certi altri una Giovanna. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Princess, a Forester, her ladies-Rosaline, Maria, and Catherine—and her lords, among them Boyet
PRINCESS	Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill?
(didascalia)	BOYET
PRINCESS	I know not, but I think it was not he.
PRINCESS	Whoe’er a was, a showed a mounting mind. Well, lords, today we shall have our dispatch. Ere Saturday we will return to France. Then, forester my friend, where is the bush That we must stand and play the murderer in?
FORESTER	Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice— A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
PRINCESS	I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak’st ‘the fairest shoot’.
FORESTER	Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
PRINCESS	What, what? First praise me, and again say no? O short-lived pride! Not fair? Alack, for woe !
FORESTER	Yes, madam, fair.
PRINCESS	Nay, never paint me now. Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass, take this for telling true. She gives him money Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
FORESTER	Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
PRINCESS	See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit! O heresy in fair, fit for these days— A giving hand, though foul, 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 do’t. 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.
BOYET	Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty Only for praise’ sake when they strive to be Lords o’er their lords?
PRINCESS	Only for praise, and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord.
(didascalia)	Enter Costard the clown
BOYET	Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
COSTARD	God dig-you-de’en, all. Pray you, which is the head lady?
PRINCESS	Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
COSTARD	Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
PRINCESS	The thickest and the tallest.
COSTARD	The thickest and the tallest—it is so, truth is truth. An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here.
PRINCESS	What’s your will, sir? What’s your will?
COSTARD	I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline.
PRINCESS	O, thy letter, thy letter! (She takes it) He’s a good friend of mine. (To Costard) Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve. Break up this capon. She gives the letter to Boyet
BOYET	I am bound to serve. This letter is mistook. It importeth none here. It is writ to Jaquenetta.
PRINCESS	We will read it, I swear. Break the neck of the wax, and everyone give ear.
BOYET	(reads) ‘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, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set’s eye upon the penurious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon, and he it was that might rightly say “Veni, vidi, vicí”, which to annothanize in the vulgar—O base and obscure vulgar!—videlicet “He came, see, and overcame.” He came, one; see, 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 enriched. 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 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.’
PRINCESS	What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better?
BOYET	I am much deceived but I remember the style.
PRINCESS	Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile.
BOYET	This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court, A phantasim, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his bookmates.
PRINCESS	(to Costard) Thou, fellow, a word. Who gave thee this letter?
COSTARD	I told you—my lord.
PRINCESS	To whom shouldst thou give it?
COSTARD	From my lord to my lady.
PRINCESS	From which lord to which lady?
COSTARD	From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, To a lady of France that he called Rosaline.
PRINCESS	Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. (To Rosaline, giving her the letter) Here, sweet, put up this, ‘twill be thine another day.
(didascalia)	Exit attended
BOYET	Who is the suitor? Who is the suitor?
ROSALINE	Shall I teach you to know?
BOYET	Ay, my continent of beauty.
ROSALINE	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 miscarry. Finely put on.
ROSALINE	Well then, I am the shooter.
BOYET	And who is your deer?
ROSALINE	If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. Finely put on indeed!
MARIA	You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
BOYET	But she herself is hit tower—have I hit her now?
ROSALINE	Shall I come upon thee with an old saying that was a man when King Pépin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?
BOYET	So I may answer thee with one as old that was a woman when Queen Guinevere of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
ROSALINE	(sings) Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
BOYET	(sings) An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can.
(didascalia)	Exit Rosaline
COSTARD	By my troth, most pleasant How both did fit it!
MARIA	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.
MARIA	Wide o’ the bow hand—i’faith, your hand is out.
COSTARD	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.
COSTARD	Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
MARIA	Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
COSTARD	She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir. Challenge her to bowl.
BOYET	I fear too much rubbing. Goodnight, my good owl.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Boyet, Maria, and Catherine
COSTARD	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 incony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit! Armado o‘th’ t’other side—O, 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 nit!
(didascalia)	Shout within
COSTARD	Sola, sola!
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Principessa, un Guardaboschi, le sue dame—Rosaline, Maria e Catherine—e i suoi signori, tra i quali Boyet
PRINCIPESSA	Era quello il Re che spronava tanto forte il suo cavallo contro l’erta salita della collina?
(didascalia)	BOYET
PRINCIPESSA	Non so, ma credo che non fosse lui.
PRINCIPESSA	Chiunque fosse, mostrò un animo che sale. Bene, signori, oggi avremo il nostro sbrigo. Prima di sabato torneremo in Francia. Dunque, guardaboschi amico mio, dov’è la macchia in cui dobbiamo appostarci e far la parte dell’assassino?
GUARDABOSCHI	Qui presso, sul margine di quel bosco ceduo— una posta dove potrete fare il tiro più bello.
PRINCIPESSA	Ringrazio la mia bellezza: son bella io che tiro, e perciò tu dici ‘il tiro più bello’.
GUARDABOSCHI	Perdonatemi, madama, ché non intendevo così.
PRINCIPESSA	Come, come? Prima lodarmi, e poi dir di no? Oh orgoglio di breve vita! Non bella? Ahimè, che pena!
GUARDABOSCHI	Sì, madama, bella.
PRINCIPESSA	No, non mi dipingere ora. Dove non è bellezza, la lode non racconcia il volto. Qua, mio buono specchio, prendi questo per aver detto il vero. Gli dà del denaro Bel pagamento per brutte parole è più del dovuto.
GUARDABOSCHI	Nulla se non bellezza è quello che possedete.
PRINCIPESSA	Vedete, vedete: la mia bellezza sarà salvata dal merito! Oh eresia in fatto di bellezza, degna di questi giorni— una mano che dà, benché brutta, avrà bella lode. Ma su, l’arco. Ora la pietà va a uccidere, e tirar bene è allora tenuto per male. Così salverò il mio credito nel tiro: se non ferisco—la pietà non me l’ha permesso. Se ferisco, fu per mostrare la mia destrezza, che più per lode che per proposito voleva uccidere. E, senza dubbio, così è talvolta— la gloria si fa colpevole di delitti detestati quando per amor di fama, per lode, parte esteriore, a quella pieghiamo l’operare del cuore, come io solo per lode cerco ora di versare il sangue del povero cervo, cui il mio cuore non vuol male.
BOYET	Non tengono le mogli bisbetiche quella sovranità su sé solo per amor di lode, quando si sforzano d’essere signore sopra i loro signori?
PRINCIPESSA	Solo per lode, e lode possiamo concedere a ogni dama che soggioghi un signore.
(didascalia)	Entra Costard il villano
BOYET	Ecco viene un membro della repubblica.
COSTARD	Dio ve la mandi buona a tutti. Di grazia, qual è la dama capo?
PRINCIPESSA	La riconoscerai, amico, dalle altre che non han capo.
COSTARD	Qual è la dama più grande, la più alta?
PRINCIPESSA	La più grossa e la più lunga.
COSTARD	La più grossa e la più lunga—è così, il vero è il vero. Se la vostra vita, madonna, fosse sottile quanto il mio ingegno, la cintura d’una di queste ragazze v’andrebbe a pennello. Non siete voi la donna principale? Siete la più grossa qui.
PRINCIPESSA	Che volete, signore? Che volete?
COSTARD	Ho una lettera di monsieur Biron per una certa madonna Rosaline.
PRINCIPESSA	Oh, la tua lettera, la tua lettera! (La prende) È un buon amico mio. (A Costard) Fatti da parte, buon portatore. Boyet, voi sapete trinciare. Squartate questo cappone. Dà la lettera a Boyet
BOYET	Son tenuto a servire. Questa lettera è sbagliata. Non riguarda nessuno qui. È scritta a Jaquenetta.
PRINCIPESSA	La leggeremo, lo giuro. Rompete il collo alla cera, e tutti porgano orecchio.
BOYET	(legge) ‘Per il cielo, che tu sia bella è infallibilissimo, vero che tu sia avvenente, verità stessa che tu sia amabile. Più bella della bellezza, più avvenente dell’avvenenza, più vera della verità stessa, abbi commiserazione del tuo eroico vassallo. Il magnanimo e illustratissimo Re Cofetua pose l’occhio sulla penuriosa e indubitata mendicante Zenelofonte, e fu lui che poté a buon diritto dire “Veni, vidi, vici”, il che, ad annotanizzarlo nel volgare—oh basso e oscuro volgare!—videlicet “Venne, vide, vinse.” Venne, uno; vide, due; vinse, tre. Chi venne? Il Re. Perché venne? Per vedere. Perché vide? Per vincere. A chi venne? Alla mendicante. Che vide? La mendicante. Chi vinse? La mendicante. La conclusione è vittoria. Da qual parte? Del Re. La prigioniera è arricchita. Da qual parte? Della mendicante. La catastrofe è un matrimonio. Da qual parte? Del Re—no, d’entrambi in uno, o d’uno in entrambi. Io sono il Re—ché così sta il paragone—tu la mendicante, ché così attesta la tua bassezza. Comanderò il tuo amore? Lo posso. Costringerò il tuo amore? Lo potrei. Supplicherò il tuo amore? Lo farò. Che cambierai in luogo dei cenci? Vesti. In luogo dei puntini? Titoli. In luogo di te stessa? Me. Così, attendendo la tua risposta, profano le mie labbra sul tuo piede, i miei occhi sulla tua immagine e il mio cuore su ogni tua parte. Tuo nel più caro disegno d’industria, Don Adriano de Armado. Così tu odi il leone nemeo ruggire contro di te, agnella, che gli stai innanzi come preda. Cadi sottomessa dinanzi ai suoi piedi regali, ed egli dalla rapina si volgerà al gioco. Ma se resisti, povera anima, che sei allora? Cibo al suo furore, pasto per la sua tana.’
PRINCIPESSA	Che pennacchio di piume è colui che dettò questa lettera? Che banderuola? Che gallo da vento? Udiste mai di meglio?
BOYET	M’inganno di molto, o ricordo quello stile.
PRINCIPESSA	Altrimenti la vostra memoria è cattiva, avendola percorsa or ora.
BOYET	Questo Armado è uno spagnolo che dimora qui a corte, un fantastico, un Monarco, e uno che fa spasso al Principe e ai suoi compagni di libri.
PRINCIPESSA	(a Costard) Tu, amico, una parola. Chi ti diede questa lettera?
COSTARD	Ve l’ho detto—il mio signore.
PRINCIPESSA	A chi dovevi darla?
COSTARD	Dal mio signore alla mia signora.
PRINCIPESSA	Da quale signore a quale signora?
COSTARD	Dal mio signor Biron, buon padrone mio, a una dama di Francia ch’egli chiamò Rosaline.
PRINCIPESSA	Hai sbagliato la sua lettera. Venite, signori, andiamo. (A Rosaline, dandole la lettera) Ecco, cara, riponi questa: sarà tua un altro giorno.
(didascalia)	Esce col séguito
BOYET	Chi è il pretendente? Chi è il pretendente?
ROSALINE	Volete che ve l’insegni?
BOYET	Sì, mio continente di bellezza.
ROSALINE	Ma quella che porta l’arco. Bella parata.
BOYET	La mia dama va a uccidere corna, ma se ti mariti, ch’io sia impiccato per il collo se quell’anno le corna vanno a male. Bella stoccata.
ROSALINE	Bene allora, sono io la tiratrice.
BOYET	E chi è la vostra preda?
ROSALINE	Se scegliamo dalle corna, voi non v’avvicinate. Bella stoccata davvero!
MARIA	Voi séguitate a bisticciare con lei, Boyet, e lei colpisce alla fronte.
BOYET	Ma lei stessa è colpita più in basso—l’ho colpita ora?
ROSALINE	Devo assalirti con un vecchio detto che era già uomo quando il Re Pipino di Francia era un ragazzino, quanto al colpire nel segno?
BOYET	E io posso risponderti con uno altrettanto vecchio, che era già donna quando la Regina Ginevra di Britannia era una ragazzina, quanto al colpire nel segno.
ROSALINE	(canta) Tu non lo cogli, non lo cogli, non lo cogli, tu non lo cogli, mio buon uomo.
BOYET	(canta) E se non posso, non posso, non posso, e se non posso, un altro può.
(didascalia)	Esce Rosaline
COSTARD	In fede mia, piacevolissimo! Come tutt’e due ci han preso!
MARIA	Un bersaglio meravigliosamente ben tirato, ché tutt’e due l’han colto.
BOYET	Un bersaglio—oh notate quel bersaglio! Un bersaglio, dice la mia dama. Che il bersaglio abbia un punto da mirare, se si può.
MARIA	Largo dalla parte dell’arco—in fede mia, la vostra mano è fuori.
COSTARD	Davvero, deve tirare più vicino, o non colpirà mai il centro.
BOYET	E se la mia mano è fuori, allora forse la vostra è dentro.
COSTARD	Allora sarà lei a vincere il tiro spaccando il chiodo.
MARIA	Su, su, parlate sconciamente, le vostre labbra si sporcano.
COSTARD	È troppo forte per voi al tiro al segno, signore. Sfidatela alle bocce.
BOYET	Temo troppi sfregamenti. Buona notte, mia buona civetta.
(didascalia)	Escono Boyet, Maria e Catherine
COSTARD	Per la mia anima, un villano, un buffone semplicissimo. Signore, Signore, come le dame e io l’abbiamo battuto! In fede mia, dolcissime facezie, graziosissimo ingegno volgare, quando esce così liscio, così osceno, per così dire, così a proposito! Armado dall’altra parte—oh, uomo delicatissimo!— vederlo camminare innanzi a una dama e portarle il ventaglio! Vederlo baciarsi la mano, e come dolcissimamente giura, e il suo paggio dall’altra parte, quel pugno d’ingegno— ah cieli, è un pidocchietto patetico!
(didascalia)	Grida dall’interno
COSTARD	Sola, sola!
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Dull, Holofernes the pedant, and Nathaniel the curate
NATHANIEL	Very reverend sport, truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience.
HOLOFERNES	The deer was, as you know—sanguis—in blood, ripe as the pomewater who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.
NATHANIEL	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.
HOLOFERNES	Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
DULL	‘Twas not a ‘auld grey doe’, ’twas a pricket.
HOLOFERNES	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 deer.
DULL	I said the deer was not a ‘auld grey doe’, ‘twas a pricket.
HOLOFERNES	Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus! O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
NATHANIEL	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’s mind: ‘Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.’
DULL	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?
HOLOFERNES	Dictynna, Goodman Dull, Dictynna, Goodman Dull.
DULL	What is ‘Dictima’?
NATHANIEL	A title to Phoebe, to luna, to the moon.
HOLOFERNES	The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, And raught not to five weeks when he came to five score. Th’allusion holds in the exchange.
DULL	’Tis true, indeed, the collusion holds in the exchange.
HOLOFERNES	God comfort thy capacity, I say th’allusion holds in the exchange.
DULL	And I say the pollution 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.
HOLOFERNES	Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? And to humour the ignorant call I the deer the Princess killed a pricket.
NATHANIEL	Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.
HOLOFERNES	I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility. The preyful 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 ‘I’ to ‘sore‘, then ‘sorel’ jumps from thicket— Or pricket sore, or else sorel. The people fall a- hooting. If sore be sore, then ‘I’ to ‘sore’ makes fifty sores—O sore ‘I’! Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more ‘I’.
NATHANIEL	A rare talent!
DULL	If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.
HOLOFERNES	This is a gift that I have, simple, simpte—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 delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.
NATHANIEL	Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you. You are a good member of the commonwealth.
HOLOFERNES	Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious they shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us. Enter Jaquenetta, and Costard the clown
JAQUENETTA	God give you good-morrow, Master Parson.
HOLOFERNES	Master Parson, quasi ‘pierce one’ ? And if one should be pierced, which is the one?
COSTARD	Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is likeliest to a hogshead.
HOLOFERNES	‘Of piercing a hogshead’—a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth, fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine—‘tis pretty, it is well.
JAQUENETTA	Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter. It was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado. I beseech you read it. She gives the letter to Nathaniel, who reads it
HOLOFERNES	(to himself) ‘Facile precor gelida quando pecas omnia sub umbra ruminat’, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice: Venezia, Venezia, Chi non ti vede, chi non ti prezia. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan—who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. (He sings) Ut, re, Sol, la, mi, fa. (To Nathaniel) Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? Or rather, as Horace says in his—what, my soul—verses?
NATHANIEL	Ay, sir, and very learned.
HOLOFERNES	Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse. Lege, domine.
NATHANIEL	(reads) ‘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 oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias 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 Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O pardon, love, this wrong, That singeth heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.’
HOLOFERNES	You find not the apostrophus, 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 domicella— virgin—was this directed to you?
JAQUENETTA	Ay, Sir.
HOLOFERNES	I will overglance 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 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, accidentally or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. (To Jaquenetta) 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.
JAQUENETTA	Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save your life.
CUSTARD	Have with thee, my girl. Exit with Jaquenetta
NATHANIEL	Sir, you have done this in the fear of God very religiously, and, as a certain father saith—
HOLOFERNES	Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses—did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?
NATHANIEL	Marvellous well for the pen.
HOLOFERNES	I do dine today 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 savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society.
NATHANIEL	And thank you too, for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life.
HOLOFERNES	And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. (To Dull) 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Dull, Oloferne il pedante e Nathaniel il curato
NATHANIEL	Passatempo assai reverendo, in verità, e fatto con la testimonianza d’una buona coscienza.
OLOFERNE	Il cervo era, come sapete—sanguis—in sangue, maturo come la mela pomacea che ora pende come un gioiello all’orecchio di caelo, il cielo, il firmamento, l’empireo, e subito cade come una mela selvatica sulla faccia di terra, il suolo, il paese, la terra.
NATHANIEL	In verità, mastro Oloferne, gli epiteti son dolcemente variati, da dotto per lo meno. Ma, signore, v’assicuro che era un daino di prima corona.
OLOFERNE	Ser Nathaniel, haud credo.
DULL	Non era una ‘vecchia daina grigia’, era un cerbiatto di due anni.
OLOFERNE	Intimazione barbarissima! Eppure una specie d’insinuazione, come fosse in via, in modo, d’esplicazione, facere, per così dire, di replicazione, o piuttosto ostentare, mostrare, per così dire, la sua inclinazione secondo la sua incolta, rozza, ineducata, impotata, indisciplinata, o piuttosto illetterata, o piuttosto ancora inconfermata maniera, per inserire di nuovo il mio ‘haud credo’ a proposito d’un cervo.
DULL	Ho detto che il cervo non era una ‘vecchia daina grigia’, era un cerbiatto di due anni.
OLOFERNE	Semplicità bollita due volte, bis coctus! Oh tu mostro d’ignoranza, come appari deforme!
NATHANIEL	Signore, egli non s’è mai nutrito delle ghiottonerie che nascono in un libro. Non ha mangiato carta, per così dire, non ha bevuto inchiostro. Il suo intelletto non è ripieno; è solo un animale, sensibile solo nelle parti più ottuse, e tali piante sterili ci son poste innanzi perché noi si debba esser grati, e grati siamo, noi di gusto e sentimento, per quelle parti che fruttificano in noi più che in lui. Ché come mal mi si converrebbe esser vano, indiscreto, o un folle, così sarebbe una toppa messa sul sapere vederlo in una scuola. Ma omne bene dico io, essendo del parere d’un vecchio padre: ‘Molti sopportano il tempo che non amano il vento.’
DULL	Voi due siete uomini di libri. Sapete dirmi col vostro ingegno che cosa aveva un mese alla nascita di Caino e non ha ancora cinque settimane?
OLOFERNE	Dictynna, buon uomo Dull, Dictynna, buon uomo Dull.
DULL	Che cos’è ‘Dictima’?
NATHANIEL	Un titolo di Febe, di luna, della luna.
OLOFERNE	La luna aveva un mese quando Adamo non era ancor nulla, e non arrivò a cinque settimane quando egli giunse a cent’anni. L’allusione regge nello scambio.
DULL	È vero, davvero, la collusione regge nello scambio.
OLOFERNE	Dio conforti la tua capacità: io dico che l’allusione regge nello scambio.
DULL	E io dico che la polluzione regge nello scambio, ché la luna non ha mai più d’un mese—e dico inoltre che era un cerbiatto di due anni quello che la Principessa uccise.
OLOFERNE	Ser Nathaniel, volete udire un epitaffio estemporaneo sulla morte del cervo? E per assecondare l’umore dell’ignorante chiamo cerbiatto di due anni il cervo che la Principessa uccise.
NATHANIEL	Perge, buon mastro Oloferne, perge, purché vi piaccia abrogare la scurrilità.
OLOFERNE	Affetterò alquanto la lettera, ché arguisce facilità. La predace Principessa punse e trafisse un piccolo piacevole cerbiatto. Alcuni dicon ‘sore’, ma non ‘sore’ finché ora non fu piagato dal tiro. I cani ulularono; metti ‘I’ a ‘sore’, ed ecco ‘sorel’ balza dal cespuglio— o cerbiatto piagato, o altrimenti ‘sorel’. La gente si mette a schiamazzare. Se ‘sore’ è ‘sore’, allora ‘I’ a ‘sore’ fa cinquanta ‘sores’—oh dolente ‘I’! D’un solo ‘sore’ io ne faccio cento, aggiungendo un solo altro ‘I’.
NATHANIEL	Un raro talento!
DULL	Se un talento è un artiglio, guarda come lo artiglia con un talento.
OLOFERNE	Questo è un dono che ho, semplice, semplice—uno spirito folle e stravagante, pieno di forme, figure, sagome, oggetti, idee, apprensioni, moti, rivoluzioni. Questi son generati nel ventricolo della memoria, nutriti nel grembo della pia mater, e partoriti al maturare dell’occasione. Ma il dono è buono in coloro nei quali è acuto, e io ne sono grato.
NATHANIEL	Signore, lodo il Signore per voi, e così possano i miei parrocchiani; ché i loro figli sono ben istruiti da voi, e le loro figlie profittano grandemente sotto di voi. Siete un buon membro della repubblica.
OLOFERNE	Mehercle, se i loro figli sono ingegnosi non mancheranno d’istruzione; se le loro figlie son capaci, gliela somministrerò. Ma Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur; un’anima femminile ci saluta. Entrano Jaquenetta e Costard il villano
JAQUENETTA	Dio vi dia il buon giorno, mastro Parroco.
OLOFERNE	Mastro Parson, quasi ‘pierce one’? E se uno dovesse esser trafitto, qual è l’uno?
COSTARD	Perbacco, mastro Maestro di scuola, quello che somiglia di più a una botte.
OLOFERNE	‘Di trafiggere una botte’—buon lustro d’arguzia in una zolla di terra, fuoco bastante per una selce, perla bastante per un porco—è grazioso, sta bene.
JAQUENETTA	Buon mastro Parroco, siate così buono da leggermi questa lettera. Me l’ha data Costard, e me l’ha mandata Don Armado. Vi supplico, leggetela. Dà la lettera a Nathaniel, che la legge
OLOFERNE	(fra sé) ‘Facile precor gelida quando pecas omnia sub umbra ruminat’, e via dicendo. Ah, buon vecchio Mantovano! Posso dire di te ciò che il viaggiatore dice di Venezia: Venezia, Venezia, Chi non ti vede, chi non ti prezia. Vecchio Mantovano, vecchio Mantovano—chi non t’intende non t’ama. (Canta) Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. (A Nathaniel) Con vostra licenza, signore, qual è il contenuto? O piuttosto, come dice Orazio nei suoi—che cosa, anima mia—versi?
NATHANIEL	Sì, signore, e assai dotti.
OLOFERNE	Fatemi udire una strofa, una stanza, un verso. Lege, domine.
NATHANIEL	(legge) ‘Se l’amore mi fa spergiuro, come giurerò d’amare? Ah, mai fede poté tenere, se non votata alla bellezza. Benché spergiuro a me stesso, a te sarò fedele. Quei pensieri a me eran querce, a te piegati come vimini. Lo studio lascia la sua china, e fa suo libro i tuoi occhi, dove vivono tutti quei piaceri che l’arte vorrebbe comprendere. Se il sapere è il bersaglio, conoscer te basterà. Ben dotta è quella lingua che ben sa lodarti; tutta ignorante quell’anima che ti vede senza meraviglia; e m’è qualche lode l’ammirare le tue doti. Il tuo occhio porta il fulmine di Giove, la tua voce il suo tremendo tuono, che, non volto all’ira, è musica e dolce fuoco. Celeste qual sei, oh perdona, amore, questo torto, a chi canta la lode del cielo con lingua così terrena.’
OLOFERNE	Non trovate l’apostrofo, e così sbagliate l’accento. Lasciate ch’io soprintenda alla canzonetta. Qui son ratificati soltanto i numeri, ma quanto all’eleganza, alla facilità e all’aurea cadenza della poesia—caret. Ovidius Naso era l’uomo. E perché mai ‘Naso’, se non per fiutare gli odoriferi fiori della fantasia, gli scatti dell’invenzione? Imitari non è nulla. Così fa il segugio col padrone, la scimmia col custode, il cavallo stanco col cavaliere. Ma domicella—vergine—era diretta a voi questa?
JAQUENETTA	Sì, signore.
OLOFERNE	Darò un’occhiata alla soprascritta. ‘Alla mano bianca di neve della bellissima madonna Rosaline.’ Guarderò di nuovo l’intelletto della lettera per la nominazione della parte scrivente e della persona a cui si scrive. ‘Di vostra signoria in ogni desiderato servizio, Biron.’ Ser Nathaniel, questo Biron è uno dei votati insieme al Re, e qui ha composto una lettera a una dama del séguito della Regina straniera, la quale, per accidente o per via di progressione, è andata fuori strada. (A Jaquenetta) Trotta e va’, mia dolce, consegna questa carta nella regale mano del Re. Può importare assai. Non ti trattenere in complimenti; ti condono l’ossequio. Addio.
JAQUENETTA	Buon Costard, vieni con me.—Signore, Dio vi salvi la vita.
CUSTARD	Vengo con te, ragazza mia. Esce con Jaquenetta
NATHANIEL	Signore, avete fatto questo nel timore di Dio molto religiosamente, e, come dice un certo padre—
OLOFERNE	Signore, non mi parlate del padre; temo i colori speciosi. Ma per tornare ai versi—vi son piaciuti, ser Nathaniel?
NATHANIEL	Meravigliosamente bene quanto alla penna.
OLOFERNE	Oggi pranzo in casa del padre d’un certo mio allievo, dove, se prima del pasto vi piacerà gratificare la mensa con una benedizione, io, in virtù del privilegio che ho presso i genitori del predetto fanciullo o allievo, mi farò garante del vostro ben venuto; e là proverò che quei versi sono assai poco dotti, né sanno di poesia, né d’ingegno, né d’invenzione. Imploro la vostra compagnia.
NATHANIEL	E vi ringrazio anche, ché la compagnia, dice il testo, è la felicità della vita.
OLOFERNE	E certes il testo lo conclude infallibilmente. (A Dull) Signore, invito anche voi. Non mi direte di no. Pauca verba. Via, i signori sono alla loro caccia, e noi andremo al nostro svago. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Biron with a paper in his hand, alone
BIRON	The King, he is hunting the deer. I am coursing myself. They have pitched a toil, I am toiling in a pitch—pitch that defiles. Denle—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 o’ my side. 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 (showing a paper) is part of my rhyme, and here (touching his breast) 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. Here comes one with a paper. God give him grace to groan. He stands aside. The King entereth with a paper
KING	Ay me!
BIRON	(aside) Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid, thou hast thumped him with thy birdbolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets.
KING	(reads) ‘So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose As thy eyebeams when their 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 that swell in me And they thy glory through my grief will show. 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. Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?
(didascalia)	Enter Longueville with papers. The King steps aside
KING	What, Longueville, and reading—listen, ear!
BIRON	(aside) Now in thy likeness one more fool appear!
LONGUEVILLE	Ay me! I am forsworn.
BIRON	(aside) Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
KING	(aside) In love, I hope! Sweet fellowship in shame.
BIRON	(aside) One drunkard loves another of the name.
LONGUEVILLE	Am I the first that have been perjured so?
BIRON	(aside) I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know. Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of love’s Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.
LONGUEVILLE	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.
BIRON	(aside) O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose, Disfigure not his slop.
LONGUEVILLE	This same shall go. He reads the sonnet ‘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 breath a vapour 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	(aside) This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess, pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend: we are much out o’th’ way.
(didascalia)	Enter Dumaine with a paper
LONGUEVILLE	(aside) By whom shall I send this? Company? Stay. He steps aside
BIRON	(aside) All hid, all hid—an old infant play. Like a demigod 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. Dumaine transformed—four woodcocks in a dish!
DUMAINE	O most divine Kate!
BIRON	(aside) O most profane coxcomb!
DUMAINE	By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!
BIRON	(aside) By earth, she is not, corporal; there you lie.
DUMAINE	Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.
BIRON	(aside) An amber-coloured raven was well noted.
DUMAINE	As upright as the cedar.
BIRON	(aside) Stoop, I say. Her shoulder is with child.
DUMAINE	As fair as day.
BIRON	(aside) Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
DUMAINE	O that I had my wishl
LONGUEVILLE	(aside) And I had mine!
KING	(aside) And I mine too, good Lord!
BIRON	(aside) Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?
DUMAINE	I would forget her, but a fever she Reigns in my blood and will remembered be.
BIRON	(aside) A fever in your blood—why then, incision Would let her out in saucers—sweet misprision.
DUMAINE	Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ.
BIRON	(aside) Once more I’ll mark how love can vary wit. Dumaine reads his sonnet
DUMAINE	‘On a day—atack 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, Wished himself the heavens’ 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 great 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 Longueville Were lovers too! Ill to example ill Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note, For none offend where all alike do dote.
LONGUEVILLE	(coming forward) Dumaine, 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	(coming forward) Come, sir, you blush. As his, your case is such. You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not love Maria? Longueville 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 jovel’ the other cries. One, her hairs were gold; crystal the other’s eyes. (To Longueville) You would for paradise break faith and troth, (To Dumaine) And Jove for your love would infringe an oath. What will Biron say when that he shall hear Faith so 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.
BIRON	(coming forward) 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 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? (To Longueville) You found his mote, the King your mote did see, But I a beam do find in each of three. O, what a scene of fool’ry 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 Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at pushpin with the boys, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumaine? And, gentle Longueville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege’s? All about the breast. A caudle, ho!
KING	Too bitter is thy jest. Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view?
BIRON	Not you to me, but I betrayed by 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 you, men of inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme, Or groan for Joan, or spend a minute’s time In pruning 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 limb?
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.
(didascalia)	Enter aquenetta with a letter, and Costard the clown
JAQUENETTA	God bless the King!
KING	What present hast thou there?
COSTARD	Some certain treason.
KING	What makes treason here?
COSTARD	Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
KING	If it mar nothing neither, The treason and you go in peace away together!
JAQUENETTA	I beseech your grace, let this letter be read. Our parson misdoubts it; ’twas treason, he said.
KING	Biron, read it over. Biron takes and reads the letter (To Jaquenetta) Where hadst thou it?
JAQUENETTA	Of Costard.
KING	(to Costard) Where hadst thou it?
COSTARD	Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. Biron tears the letter
KING	(to Biron) How now, what is in you? Why dost thou tear it?
BIRON	A toy, my liege, a toy. Your grace needs not fear it.
LONGUEVILLE	It did move him to passion, and therefore let’s hear it.
DUMAINE	(taking up a piece of the letter) It is Biron’s writing, and here is his name.
BIRON	(to Costard) Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shamel 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-e’en you, my liege-and I Are pickpurses in love, and we deserve to die. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
DUMAINE	Now the number is even.
BIRON	True, true; we are four. Will these turtles be gone?
KING	Hence, sirs; away.
COSTARD	Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta
BIRON	Sweet lords, sweet tovers!—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 cannot cross the cause why we were 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 Ind At the first op’ning 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 inspired 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. Of all complexions the culled 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— Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not. To things of sale a seller’s praise belongs. She passes praise—then praise too short doth blot. A withered hermit fivescore 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. O, ’tis the sun that maketh all things shine.
KING	By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
BIRON	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 dungeons and the style of night, And beauty’s crest becomes the heavens well.
BIRON	Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady’s brows be decked, It mourns that painting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect, And therefore is she born 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.
DUMAINE	To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.
LONGUEVILLE	And since her time are colliers counted bright.
KING	And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.
DUMAINE	Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
BIRON	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 today.
BIRON	I’ll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.
KING	No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
DUMAINE	I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
LONGUEVILLE	(showing his foot) Look, here’s thy love—my foot and her face see.
BIRON	O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
DUMAINE	O vile! Then as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walked overhead.
KING	But what of this? Are we not all in love?
BIRON	Nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn.
KING	Then leave this chat and, good Biron, now prove Our loving lawful and our faith not torn.
DUMAINE	Ay, marry there, some flattery for this evil.
LONGUEVILLE	O, some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets how to cheat the devil.
DUMAINE	Some salve for perjury.
BIRON	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. 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 enriched you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain, And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil. But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain, But with the motion of all elements Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power Above their functions and their offices. 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 stopped. Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails. Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. For valour, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx, as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute strung with his hair; And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were tempered with love’s sighs. O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive. They sparkle still the right Promethean fire. They are the books, the arts, the academes That show, contain, and nourish all the world, Else none at all in aught proves excellent. Then fools you were these women to forswear, Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom’s sake—a word that all men love— Or for love’s sake—a word that loves all men— Or for men’s sake—the authors of these women— Or women’s sake—by whom we men are men— Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn, For charity itself fulfils the law, And who can sever love from charity?
KING	Saint Cupid, then, and, soldiers, to the field!
BIRON	Advance your standards, and upon them, lords. Pell-mell, down with them; but be first advised In conflict that you get the sun of them.
LONGUEVILLE	Now to plain dealing. Lay these glozes by. 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.
BIRON	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, masques, and merry hours Forerun fair love, strewing her way with flowers.
KING	Away, away, no time shall be omitted That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
BIRON	Allons, allons! Sowed cockle reaped no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure. Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn. If so, our copper buys no better treasure. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Biron con una carta in mano, solo
BIRON	Il Re va a caccia del cervo. Io do la caccia a me stesso. Essi han teso una rete; io mi dibatto nella pece—pece che imbratta. Imbrattare—brutta parola. Bene, siediti, dolore; ché così dicono che disse il folle, e così dico io, e io sono il folle. Ben provato, ingegno! Per il Signore, questo amore è pazzo come Aiace: uccide pecore, uccide me, e io sono una pecora—ben provato di nuovo a mio favore. Non amerò. Se lo faccio, impiccatemi; in fede mia, non lo farò. Oh, ma il suo occhio! Per questa luce, se non fosse per il suo occhio non l’amerei. Sì, per i suoi due occhi. Bene, non faccio altro al mondo che mentire, e mentire per la gola. Per il cielo, io amo, e ciò m’ha insegnato a rimare e a esser malinconico; ed ecco qui (mostrando una carta) parte della mia rima, ed ecco qui (toccandosi il petto) la mia malinconia. Bene, lei ha già uno dei miei sonetti. Il villano lo portò, il folle lo mandò, e la dama l’ha. Dolce villano, più dolce folle, dolcissima dama. Per il mondo, non me n’importerebbe un fico se anche gli altri tre ci fossero dentro. Ecco viene uno con una carta. Dio gli conceda la grazia di gemere. Si mette in disparte. Entra il Re con una carta
RE	Ahimè!
BIRON	(a parte) Colpito, per il cielo! Procedi, dolce Cupido, l’hai centrato col tuo dardo da uccelli sotto la mammella sinistra. In fede mia, segreti.
RE	(legge) ‘Bacio così dolce non dà il sole d’oro a quelle fresche gocce mattutine sulla rosa quanto i raggi dei tuoi occhi, quando han percosso la notte di rugiada che giù per le mie guance scorre. Né splende l’argentea luna la metà così chiara per il seno trasparente dell’abisso quanto il tuo volto dà luce attraverso le mie lacrime. Tu risplendi in ogni lacrima ch’io piango. Non v’è goccia che non ti porti come un cocchio, così tu cavalchi trionfando nel mio dolore. Guarda soltanto le lacrime che in me si gonfiano ed esse mostreranno la tua gloria attraverso la mia pena. Ma non amare te stessa; allora conserverai le mie lacrime per specchi, e mi farai piangere ancora. Oh Regina delle regine, quanto tu eccelli non può pensarlo pensiero né dirlo lingua di mortale.’ Come conoscerà i miei dolori? Lascerò cadere la carta. Dolci fronde, ombreggiate la follia. Chi è colui che viene?
(didascalia)	Entra Longueville con delle carte. Il Re si fa da parte
RE	Come, Longueville, e legge—ascolta, orecchio!
BIRON	(a parte) Ora nella tua sembianza appaia un altro folle!
LONGUEVILLE	Ahimè! Sono spergiuro.
BIRON	(a parte) Ecco, entra come uno spergiuro, portando carte addosso.
RE	(a parte) Innamorato, spero! Dolce compagnia nella vergogna.
BIRON	(a parte) Un ubriaco ama l’altro dello stesso nome.
LONGUEVILLE	Sono io il primo che sia stato così spergiuro?
BIRON	(a parte) Potrei consolarti: no, per due che io conosco. Tu fai il triumvirato, la berretta a tre punte della società, la forma della forca d’amore, che impicca la semplicità.
LONGUEVILLE	Temo che questi versi ostinati non abbian forza di commuovere. Oh dolce Maria, imperatrice del mio amore, straccerò questi numeri, e scriverò in prosa.
BIRON	(a parte) Oh, le rime sono i galloni sulle brache del lascivo Cupido: non sfigurargli i calzoni.
LONGUEVILLE	Questo qui andrà. Legge il sonetto ‘Non fu la celeste retorica del tuo occhio, contro cui il mondo non può tener discorso, a persuadere il mio cuore a questo falso spergiuro? I voti rotti per te non meritano castigo. Una donna abiurai, ma proverò, essendo tu una dea, che non abiurai te. Il mio voto era terreno, tu un amore celeste. Ottenuta la tua grazia, ogni disgrazia in me è sanata. I voti non son che fiato, e il fiato è vapore. Dunque tu, bel sole, che splendi sulla mia terra, esali questo voto-vapore; in te esso è. Se è rotto, allora non è colpa mia. E se da me è rotto, qual folle non è tanto saggio da perdere un giuramento per guadagnare un paradiso?’
BIRON	(a parte) Questa è la vena del fegato, che fa della carne una divinità, d’un’oca verde una dea: pura, pura idolatria. Dio ci corregga, Dio ci corregga: siamo assai fuori di strada.
(didascalia)	Entra Dumaine con una carta
LONGUEVILLE	(a parte) Per chi manderò questa? Gente? Fermo. Si fa da parte
BIRON	(a parte) Tutti nascosti, tutti nascosti—vecchio gioco di bambini. Come un semidio qui siedo nel cielo, e sorveglio attento i segreti di miseri folli. Altri sacchi al mulino! Oh cieli, ho quel che volevo. Dumaine trasformato—quattro beccacce in un piatto!
DUMAINE	Oh divinissima Kate!
BIRON	(a parte) Oh profanissimo zerbinotto!
DUMAINE	Per il cielo, la meraviglia in occhio mortale!
BIRON	(a parte) Per la terra, non lo è, caporale; qui menti.
DUMAINE	I suoi capelli d’ambra han fatto parer l’ambra bruttura.
BIRON	(a parte) Un corvo color d’ambra fu ben notato.
DUMAINE	Diritta come il cedro.
BIRON	(a parte) Curva, dico io. La sua spalla è gravida d’un figlio.
DUMAINE	Bella come il giorno.
BIRON	(a parte) Sì, come certi giorni; ma allora non deve splendere il sole.
DUMAINE	Oh, avessi quel che desidero!
LONGUEVILLE	(a parte) E io il mio!
RE	(a parte) E anch’io il mio, buon Dio!
BIRON	(a parte) Amen, purché io avessi il mio. Non è una buona parola?
DUMAINE	Vorrei dimenticarla, ma essa, febbre, regna nel mio sangue e vuol esser ricordata.
BIRON	(a parte) Una febbre nel vostro sangue—ebbene, un’incisione la farebbe uscire a scodelle—dolce equivoco.
DUMAINE	Ancora una volta leggerò l’ode che ho scritto.
BIRON	(a parte) Ancora una volta noterò come l’amore sappia variare l’ingegno. Dumaine legge il suo sonetto
DUMAINE	‘Un giorno—maledetto il giorno— l’Amore, il cui mese è sempre maggio, spiò un fiore oltremodo bello che giocava nell’aria lasciva. Fra le foglie di velluto il vento non visto sa trovare il passaggio, sì che l’amante, malato a morte, desiderò d’essere il fiato dei cieli. “Aria”, disse, “tu puoi soffiare sulle sue guance; aria, potessi io trionfare così. Ma, ahimè, la mia mano ha giurato di non coglierti mai dalla tua spina— voto, ahimè, disdicevole alla giovinezza, giovinezza così pronta a cogliere un dolce. Non chiamare peccato in me l’essere spergiuro per te, tu per cui il gran Giove giurerebbe che Giunone non è che un’etiope, e rinnegherebbe se stesso come Giove, facendosi mortale per il tuo amore.”’ Questo manderò, e qualcos’altro più semplice, che esprimerà la pena digiuna del mio vero amore. Oh, fossero il Re, Biron e Longueville anch’essi innamorati! Il male, a esempio del male, cancellerebbe dalla mia fronte una nota di spergiuro, ché nessuno offende dove tutti ugualmente vaneggiano.
LONGUEVILLE	(facendosi avanti) Dumaine, il tuo amore è ben lungi dalla carità, tu che nel dolore d’amore desideri compagnia. Voi potete impallidire, ma io arrossirei, lo so, a esser così ascoltato e colto in fallo.
RE	(facendosi avanti) Su, signore, arrossite. Il vostro caso è come il suo. Rimproverate lui, offendendo il doppio. Voi non amate Maria? Longueville non compose mai un sonetto per amor suo, né mai incrociò le braccia intrecciate sull’amoroso petto per tenervi giù il cuore? Io sono stato ben celato in questo cespuglio, e ho osservato entrambi, e per entrambi ho arrossito. Ho udito le vostre rime colpevoli, osservato il vostro contegno, visto fumar da voi i sospiri, notato bene la vostra passione. ‘Ahimè!’ dice l’uno; ‘oh Giove!’ grida l’altro. Per l’uno, i suoi capelli eran d’oro; per l’altro, cristallo i suoi occhi. (A Longueville) Voi per un paradiso rompereste fede e parola, (A Dumaine) e Giove per il vostro amore infrangerebbe un giuramento. Che dirà Biron quando udrà la fede così infranta, giurata con tanto zelo? Come schernirà, come spenderà il suo ingegno! Come trionferà, salterà e ne riderà! Per tutta la ricchezza che mai abbia veduto non vorrei che sapesse tanto di me.
BIRON	(facendosi avanti) Ora mi faccio avanti a frustar l’ipocrisia. Ah, mio buon sire, ti prego perdonami. Buon cuore, quale grazia hai tu di rimproverare così questi vermi perché amano, tu che sei il più innamorato? I vostri occhi non fanno cocchi. Nelle vostre lacrime non appare nessuna principessa. Voi non sarete spergiuro: è cosa odiosa; puah, solo i menestrelli amano i sonetti! Ma non vi vergognate, dite, non vi vergognate, tutti e tre, d’aver tanto sbagliato il tiro? (A Longueville) Voi trovaste la sua pagliuzza, il Re vide la vostra, ma io trovo una trave in ciascuno dei tre. Oh, che scena di follia ho veduto, di sospiri, di gemiti, di dolore e d’affanno! Ahimè, con che stretta pazienza son rimasto, a vedere un re tramutato in moscerino! a vedere il grande Ercole frustare una trottola, e il profondo Salomone accordare una giga, e Nestore giocare agli spilli coi ragazzi, e il critico Timone ridere di sciocchi trastulli! Dove sta il tuo dolore, oh dimmi, buon Dumaine? E, gentile Longueville, dove sta la tua pena? E dove quella del mio sire? Tutte intorno al petto. Un brodo caldo, olà!
RE	Troppo amara è la tua burla. Siamo così traditi al tuo sguardo?
BIRON	Non voi a me, ma io tradito da voi. Io che sono onesto, io che tengo per peccato rompere il voto in cui son legato. Sono tradito dal tener compagnia a uomini come voi, uomini d’incostanza. Quando mi vedrete scrivere una cosa in rima, o gemere per una Giovanna, o spendere un minuto di tempo a lisciarmi? Quando udrete che io loderò una mano, un piede, un viso, un occhio, un’andatura, un portamento, una fronte, un seno, una vita, una gamba, un membro?
RE	Piano, dove corri così in fretta? Un galantuomo o un ladro, che galoppa così?
BIRON	Fuggo a spron battuto dall’amore; buon amante, lasciami andare.
(didascalia)	Entra aquenetta con una lettera, e Costard il villano
JAQUENETTA	Dio benedica il Re!
RE	Che presente hai lì?
COSTARD	Un certo tradimento.
RE	Che fa qui il tradimento?
COSTARD	Ma non fa nulla, signore.
RE	E se non guasta nulla nemmeno, il tradimento e voi andatevene insieme in pace!
JAQUENETTA	Supplico vostra grazia, si legga questa lettera. Il nostro parroco ne sospetta; è tradimento, disse.
RE	Biron, leggila. Biron prende e legge la lettera (A Jaquenetta) Dove l’hai avuta?
JAQUENETTA	Da Costard.
RE	(a Costard) Dove l’hai avuta tu?
COSTARD	Da Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. Biron straccia la lettera
RE	(a Biron) E ora, che v’ha preso? Perché la stracci?
BIRON	Una sciocchezza, sire, una sciocchezza. Vostra grazia non deve temerla.
LONGUEVILLE	L’ha mosso a passione, e perciò udiamola.
DUMAINE	(raccogliendo un pezzo della lettera) È scrittura di Biron, ed ecco il suo nome.
BIRON	(a Costard) Ah, testa di legno figlio di puttana, sei nato per farmi vergogna! Colpevole, mio signore, colpevole! Confesso, confesso.
RE	Che cosa?
BIRON	Che a voi tre folli mancavo io folle per far la quaterna. Lui, lui, e voi—proprio voi, mio sire—e io siamo tagliaborse in amore, e meritiamo la morte. Oh, congedate questo uditorio, e vi dirò di più.
DUMAINE	Ora il numero è pari.
BIRON	Vero, vero; siamo quattro. Se ne andranno queste tortore?
RE	Via di qua, messeri; andate.
COSTARD	Vadano da parte i galantuomini, e restino i traditori.
(didascalia)	Escono Costard e Jaquenetta
BIRON	Dolci signori, dolci amanti!—Oh, abbracciamoci. Siamo veri quanto carne e sangue posson essere. Il mare rifluirà e crescerà, il cielo mostrerà il suo volto. Il giovane sangue non obbedisce a un vecchio decreto. Non possiamo contrariare la causa per cui nascemmo, perciò a ogni modo dobbiamo esser spergiuri.
RE	Come, quei versi stracciati mostravano qualche tuo amore?
BIRON	‘Mostravano’, dite? Chi vede la celeste Rosaline che, come un uomo rozzo e selvaggio dell’India al primo aprirsi del fastoso oriente, non china il capo vassallo e, colpito di cecità, bacia la bassa terra con petto obbediente? Qual occhio perentorio, dalla vista d’aquila, osa guardare il cielo della sua fronte senza essere accecato dalla sua maestà?
RE	Che zelo, che furore t’ha inspirato ora? Il mio amore, sua signora, è una graziosa luna; lei è una stella d’accompagno, appena vista come luce.
BIRON	Allora i miei occhi non son occhi, né io son Biron. Oh, se non fosse per il mio amore, il giorno si farebbe notte. D’ogni carnagione la scelta sovranità s’incontra come a una fiera nella sua bella guancia, dove più pregi fanno una sola dignità, dove nulla manca di quel che il bisogno stesso cerca. Prestatemi il fiorire di tutte le lingue gentili— vergogna, retorica dipinta! Oh, non le occorre. Alle cose in vendita s’addice la lode del venditore. Ella supera la lode—e la lode troppo breve macchia. Un eremita avvizzito, logoro da cent’inverni, ne scuoterebbe cinquanta guardandola negli occhi. La bellezza verniccia la vecchiaia come se fosse appena nata, e dà alla gruccia l’infanzia della culla. Oh, è il sole che fa risplendere ogni cosa.
RE	Per il cielo, il tuo amore è nero come l’ebano.
BIRON	L’ebano le somiglia? Oh parola divina! Una moglie di tal legno sarebbe felicità. Oh, chi può far prestare un giuramento? Dov’è un libro, ch’io possa giurare che alla bellezza manca bellezza se non impara dal suo occhio a guardare? Nessun volto è bello che non sia altrettanto nero.
RE	Oh paradosso! Il nero è l’insegna dell’inferno, il colore delle segrete e il titolo della notte, e il cimiero della bellezza s’addice bene ai cieli.
BIRON	I diavoli tentano meglio somigliando a spiriti di luce. Oh, se di nero son ornate le ciglia della mia dama, è perché piange che il belletto e i capelli usurpati rapiscano gli spasimanti con falso aspetto, e perciò è nata per far bello il nero. Il suo volto cambia la moda dei giorni, ché il sangue naturale ora è tenuto per belletto, e perciò il rosso che vuol schivare il biasimo si dipinge di nero per imitare la sua fronte.
DUMAINE	Per somigliarle sono neri gli spazzacamini.
LONGUEVILLE	E dal suo tempo i carbonai son tenuti per lucenti.
RE	E gli etiopi si vantano della loro dolce carnagione.
DUMAINE	Il buio non ha più bisogno di candele, ché il buio è luce.
BIRON	Le vostre dame non osano mai uscire sotto la pioggia, per timore che i loro colori siano lavati via.
RE	Sarebbe bene che la vostra lo facesse; ché, signore, a dirvela chiara, troverò un viso più bello non lavato oggi.
BIRON	Proverò che è bella, o parlerò qui fino al giorno del giudizio.
RE	Nessun diavolo allora ti spaventerà quanto lei.
DUMAINE	Non ho mai visto uomo tener tanto caro sì vile roba.
LONGUEVILLE	(mostrando il piede) Guarda, ecco il tuo amore—vedi il mio piede e il suo viso.
BIRON	Oh, se le strade fossero lastricate coi tuoi occhi, i suoi piedi sarebbero troppo delicati per tal calpestio.
DUMAINE	Oh turpe! Allora, mentre cammina, quel che sta di sopra la strada lo vedrebbe passandole lei sul capo.
RE	Ma che importa? Non siamo tutti innamorati?
BIRON	Nulla di più certo, e perciò tutti spergiuri.
RE	Allora lasciate queste ciance e, buon Biron, provate ora che il nostro amare è lecito e la nostra fede non è lacerata.
DUMAINE	Sì, perbacco, ecco: qualche lusinga per questo male.
LONGUEVILLE	Oh, qualche autorità su come procedere, qualche astuzia, qualche cavillo per gabbare il diavolo.
DUMAINE	Qualche unguento per lo spergiuro.
BIRON	Oh, ce n’è più che bisogno. A voi, dunque, uomini d’arme dell’affetto. Considerate che cosa giuraste dapprima: digiunare, studiare, e non veder donna— aperto tradimento contro il regale stato della giovinezza. Dite, potete digiunare? I vostri stomaci son troppo giovani, e l’astinenza genera malattie. Oh, abbiamo fatto voto di studiare, signori, e con quel voto abbiamo abiurato i nostri libri; ché quando avreste voi, mio sire, o voi, o voi nella plumbea contemplazione scoperto versi così infocati come quelli di cui gli occhi ispiratori delle maestre di bellezza v’hanno arricchito? Le altre arti lente stanno tutte nel cervello, e perciò, trovando sterili praticanti, mostrano a stento un raccolto della loro grave fatica. Ma l’amore, appreso dapprima negli occhi d’una dama, non vive solo murato nel cervello, ma col moto di tutti gli elementi corre veloce come il pensiero in ogni facoltà, e dà a ogni facoltà una doppia potenza al di sopra delle loro funzioni e dei loro uffici. Aggiunge un prezioso vedere all’occhio— gli occhi d’un amante abbaglierebbero un’aquila. L’orecchio d’un amante ode il suono più tenue quando la testa sospettosa del ladro non ode nulla. Il tatto dell’amore è più molle e più sensibile delle tenere corna delle lumache nel guscio. La lingua dell’amore fa parer grossolano al gusto il delicato Bacco. Quanto al valore, non è l’amore un Ercole, sempre a scalare alberi nelle Esperidi? Sottile come la Sfinge, dolce e musicale come il liuto del fulgido Apollo incordato coi suoi capelli; e quando l’amore parla, la voce di tutti gli dèi fa il cielo sonnolento con l’armonia. Mai poeta osò toccar penna per scrivere finché il suo inchiostro non fu temperato coi sospiri d’amore. Oh, allora i suoi versi rapivano orecchie selvagge, e piantavano nei tiranni mite umiltà. Dagli occhi delle donne io traggo questa dottrina. Essi sfavillano sempre il vero fuoco prometeico. Essi sono i libri, le arti, le accademie che mostrano, contengono e nutrono tutto il mondo, senza di essi nulla in nulla si mostra eccellente. Folli foste dunque ad abiurare queste donne, o, mantenendo quel che giuraste, folli vi mostrerete. Per amor della saggezza—parola che tutti gli uomini amano— o per amor dell’amore—parola che ama tutti gli uomini— o per amor degli uomini—autori di queste donne— o per amor delle donne—per cui noi uomini siamo uomini— perdiamo una volta i nostri giuramenti per ritrovare noi stessi, o altrimenti perdiamo noi stessi per mantenere i giuramenti. È religione essere spergiuri così, ché la carità stessa adempie la legge, e chi può separare l’amore dalla carità?
RE	San Cupido, dunque, e, soldati, al campo!
BIRON	Avanzate le insegne, e addosso a loro, signori. Alla rinfusa, abbattetele; ma badate prima, nello scontro, d’avere il sole dalla vostra.
LONGUEVILLE	Ora al parlar chiaro. Mettiamo da parte queste glosse. Ci risolviamo a corteggiare queste ragazze di Francia?
RE	E anche a conquistarle! Perciò escogitiamo qualche intrattenimento per loro nelle loro tende.
BIRON	Prima, dal parco conduciamole colà; poi, tornando, ciascuno prenda la mano della sua bella signora. Nel pomeriggio le consoleremo con qualche strano passatempo, quale la brevità del tempo può foggiare, ché baldorie, danze, mascherate e ore liete precorrono il bell’amore, cospargendogli la via di fiori.
RE	Via, via, non si trascuri tempo che sia tempo e che da noi possa essere adoperato.
BIRON	Allons, allons! Loglio seminato non diede grano, e la giustizia gira sempre in eguale misura. Ragazze leggere posson essere piaghe per uomini spergiuri. Se è così, il nostro rame non compra miglior tesoro. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Holofernes the pedant, Nathaniel the curate, and Anthony Dull
HOLOFERNES	Satis quid sufficit.
NATHANIEL	I praise Good for you, sir. Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious, pleasant without scurrility, witty without affections, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the King’s who is intituled, nominated, or called Don Adriano de Armado.
HOLOFERNES	Novi hominum tanquam te. His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
NATHANIEL	A most singular and choice epithet. He draws out his table-book
HOLOFERNES	He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasims, such insociable and point-device companions, such rackers of orthography as to speak ‘dout’, sine ‘b’, when he should say ‘doubt’; ‘det’ when he should pronounce ‘debt’—‘d, e, b, t’, not ‘d, e, t’. He clepeth a calf ‘caul’, half ‘haul’, neighbour vocatur ‘nebour’—‘neigh’ abbreviated ‘ne’. This is abhominaMe—which he would call ‘abominable’. It insinuateth me of insanire—ne intelligis, domine?—to make frantic, lunatic.
NATHANIEL	Laus deo, bone intelligo.
HOLOFERNES	Bone? Bon, fort bon—Priscian a little scratched-‘twill serve.
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart, Mote his boy, and Costard the clown
NATHANIEL	Videsne quis venit? xoLOFeRrrss Video, et gaudio.
ARMADO	(to Mote) Chirrah. xoLOVExNES (to Nathaniel) Quare ‘chirrah’, not ‘sirrah’?
ARMADO	Men of peace, well encountered.
HOLOFERNES	Most military sir, salutation!
MOTE	(aside to Costard) They have been at a great feast of languages and stolen the scraps.
COSTARD	(aside to Mote) O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus. Thou art easier swallowed than a flapdragon.
MOTE	(aside to Costard) Peace, the peal begins.
ARMADO	(to Holofernes) Monsieur, are you not lettered?
MOTE	Yes, yes, he teaches boys the horn-book. What is ‘a, b’ spelled backward, with the horn on his head?
HOLOFERNES	Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.
MOTE	Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn! You hear his learning.
HOLOFERNES	Quis, quis, thou consonant?
MOTE	The last of the five vowels if you repeat them, or the fifth if I.
HOLOFERNES	I will repeat them: a, e, i—
MOTE	The sheep. The other two concludes it: o, u.
ARMADO	Now by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit; snip, snap, quick, and home. It rejoiceth my intellect—true wit.
MOTE	Offered by a child to an old man, which is ‘wit-old’.
HOLOFERNES	What is the figure? What is the figure?
MOTE	Horns.
HOLOFERNES	Thou disputes like an infant. Go whip thy gig.
MOTE	Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circum circa—a gig of a cuckold’s horn.
CUSTARD	An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread. (Giving money) Hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to, thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.
HOLOFERNES	O, I smell false Latin—‘dunghill’ for unguem.
ARMADO	Arts-man, preambulate. We will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?
HOLOFERNES	Or mons, the hill.
ARMADO	At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
HOLOFERNES	I do, sans question.
ARMADO	Sir, it is the King’s most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.
HOLOFERNES	The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon. The word is well culled, choice, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure.
ARMADO	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 important and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, 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 mustachio. But, sweetheart, 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 travel, that hath seen the world. But let that pass. The very all of all is—but, sweetheart, I do implore secrecy—that the King would have me present the Princess-sweet chuck-with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. 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.
HOLOFERNES	Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day to be rendered by our assistance, the King’s command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman before the Princess, I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
NATHANIEL	Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?
HOLOFERNES	Joshua, yourself; myself, Judas Maccabeus; and this gallant gentleman, Hector. This swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules.
ARMADO	Pardon, sir, error! He is not quantity enough for that Worthy’s thumb. He is not so big as the end of his club.
HOLOFERNES	Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in minority. His enter and exit shall be strangling a snake, and I will have an apology for that purpose.
MOTE	An excellent device! So, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry ‘Well done, Hercules, now thou crushest the snake!’—that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it.
ARMADO	For the rest of the Worthies?
HOLOFERNES	I will play three myself.
MOTE	Thrice-worthy gentleman!
ARMADO	Shall I tell you a thing?
HOLOFERNES	We attend.
ARMADO	We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech you, follow.
HOLOFERNES	Via, goodman Dull! Thou hast spoken no word all this while.
DULL	Nor understood none neither, sir.
HOLOFERNES	Allons! We will employ thee.
DULL	I’ll make one in a dance or so, or I will play on the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
HOLOPERNES	Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Oloferne il pedante, Nathaniel il curato e Anthony Dull
OLOFERNE	Satis quid sufficit.
NATHANIEL	Lodo Iddio per voi, signore. I vostri ragionamenti a tavola sono stati acuti e sentenziosi, piacevoli senza scurrilità, arguti senza affettazioni, audaci senza impudenza, dotti senza presunzione e singolari senza eresia. Conversai in quel quondam giorno con un compagno del Re che è intitolato, nominato o chiamato Don Adriano de Armado.
OLOFERNE	Novi hominum tanquam te. Il suo umore è altezzoso, il suo discorso perentorio, la sua lingua limata, il suo occhio ambizioso, la sua andatura maestosa e il suo contegno generale vano, ridicolo e trasonico. È troppo azzimato, troppo attillato, troppo affettato, troppo strano, per così dire, troppo peregrinato, come potrei chiamarlo.
NATHANIEL	Epiteto singolarissimo e scelto. Tira fuori il suo taccuino
OLOFERNE	Egli tira il filo della sua verbosità più sottile della fibra del suo argomento. Aborro tali fanatici fantastici, tali compagni insociabili e pignoli fino allo scrupolo, tali torturatori dell’ortografia, che dicono ‘dout’, sine ‘b’, quando dovrebbero dire ‘doubt’; ‘det’ quando dovrebbero pronunciare ‘debt’—‘d, e, b, t’, non ‘d, e, t’. Chiama un vitello ‘caul’, half ‘haul’, neighbour vocatur ‘nebour’—‘neigh’ abbreviato in ‘ne’. Questo è abhominaMe—che egli chiamerebbe ‘abominable’. Ciò m’insinua d’insanire—ne intelligis, domine?—cioè di render frenetico, lunatico.
NATHANIEL	Laus deo, bone intelligo.
OLOFERNE	Bone? Bon, fort bon—Prisciano un po’ graffiato—andrà bene.
(didascalia)	Entrano Armado il fanfarone, Mote il suo ragazzo e Costard il villano
NATHANIEL	Videsne quis venit? xoLOFeRrrss Video, et gaudio.
ARMADO	(a Mote) Chirrah. xoLOVExNES (a Nathaniel) Quare ‘chirrah’, e non ‘sirrah’?
ARMADO	Uomini di pace, ben trovati.
OLOFERNE	Signore militarissimo, salute!
MOTE	(a parte, a Costard) Sono stati a un gran banchetto di lingue e ne hanno rubato gli avanzi.
COSTARD	(a parte, a Mote) Oh, han vissuto a lungo del paniere delle elemosine di parole. Mi meraviglio che il tuo padrone non t’abbia mangiato per una parola, ché tu non sei lungo, di tutta la testa, quanto honorificabilitudinitatibus. Sei più facile da inghiottire d’un chicco d’uvetta nel brandy acceso.
MOTE	(a parte, a Costard) Silenzio, comincia lo scampanio.
ARMADO	(a Oloferne) Monsieur, non siete letterato?
MOTE	Sì, sì, insegna ai ragazzi l’abbecedario incorniciato di corno. Che cosa fa ‘a, b’ compitato all’indietro, col corno in testa?
OLOFERNE	Ba, pueritia, col corno aggiunto.
MOTE	Ba, pecora scioccissima, col corno! Udite la sua dottrina.
OLOFERNE	Quis, quis, tu consonante?
MOTE	L’ultima delle cinque vocali se le ripetete voi, o la quinta se le ripeto io.
OLOFERNE	Le ripeterò io: a, e, i—
MOTE	La pecora. Le altre due concludono: o, u.
ARMADO	Ora, per l’onda salsa del Mediterraneum, un dolce tocco, una rapida stoccata d’ingegno; taglio, botta, svelto e diritto a casa. Rallegra il mio intelletto—vero ingegno.
MOTE	Offerto da un fanciullo a un vecchio, il che fa ‘ingegno-vecchio’.
OLOFERNE	Qual è la figura? Qual è la figura?
MOTE	Corna.
OLOFERNE	Disputi come un bambino. Va’ a frustare la tua trottola.
MOTE	Prestatemi il vostro corno per farne una, e frusterò la vostra infamia circum circa—una trottola di corno di becco.
CUSTARD	Se avessi un solo soldo al mondo, l’avresti tu per comprarti pan di zenzero. (Dandogli del denaro) Tieni, ecco la stessa rimunerazione che ebbi dal tuo padrone, tu borsellino da mezzo soldo d’ingegno, tu uovo di piccione di discrezione. Oh, se piacesse ai cieli che tu fossi soltanto il mio bastardo, che padre gioioso mi faresti! Suvvia, ce l’hai ad dunghill, sulla punta delle dita, come si dice.
OLOFERNE	Oh, sento puzzo di falso latino—‘dunghill’ per unguem.
ARMADO	Uomo delle arti, preambulate. Ci separeremo dai barbari. Non educate voi la gioventù nella casa di convitto in cima al monte?
OLOFERNE	O mons, la collina.
ARMADO	A vostro dolce piacere, quanto al monte.
OLOFERNE	Sì, sans question.
ARMADO	Signore, è dolcissimo piacere e affetto del Re di far visita di congratulazione alla Principessa nel suo padiglione nei posteriori di questo giorno, che la rozza moltitudine chiama pomeriggio.
OLOFERNE	Il posteriore del giorno, generosissimo signore, è acconcio, congruente e commisurato al pomeriggio. La parola è ben scelta, eletta, dolce e acconcia, ve l’assicuro, signore, ve l’assicuro.
ARMADO	Signore, il Re è un nobile gentiluomo, e mio famigliare, ve l’assicuro, amicissimo. Di quel che passa d’intimo tra noi, lasciamo correre. Ti supplico, ricordati della tua cortesia. Ti supplico, copriti il capo. E, fra altri importanti e serissimi disegni, e davvero di gran momento—ma lasciamo correre, ché devo dirti che piace a sua grazia, per il mondo, talvolta appoggiarsi sulla mia povera spalla e col suo regale dito così trastullarsi con la mia escrescenza, coi miei mustacchi. Ma, cuor mio, lasciamo correre. Per il mondo, non racconto favola alcuna. Certi speciali onori piace alla sua grandezza impartire ad Armado, soldato, uomo di viaggi, che ha veduto il mondo. Ma lasciamo correre. Il tutto del tutto è—ma, cuor mio, imploro segretezza—che il Re vorrebbe ch’io presentassi alla Principessa—dolce colombella—qualche dilettevole ostentazione, o spettacolo, o corteo, o buffonata, o fuoco d’artificio. Ora, intendendo che il curato e la vostra dolce persona siete valenti in tali eruzioni e improvvisi scoppi d’allegria, per così dire, ve n’ho fatto parte al fine d’implorare il vostro aiuto.
OLOFERNE	Signore, presenterete dinanzi a lei i Nove Prodi. Ser Nathaniel, quanto a qualche intrattenimento del tempo, qualche spettacolo nel posteriore di questo giorno, da rendersi col nostro aiuto, per comando del Re e di questo gallantissimo, illustratissimo e dotto gentiluomo, dinanzi alla Principessa, dico che nulla è tanto acconcio quanto presentare i Nove Prodi.
NATHANIEL	Dove troverete uomini abbastanza degni da rappresentarli?
OLOFERNE	Giosuè, voi stesso; io, Giuda Maccabeo; e questo gallante gentiluomo, Ettore. Questo villano, per via delle sue grandi membra o giunture, passerà per Pompeo il Grande; il paggio, per Ercole.
ARMADO	Perdonate, signore, errore! Non ha quantità bastante per il pollice di quel Prode. Non è grosso quanto la punta della sua clava.
OLOFERNE	Mi si dà udienza? Rappresenterà Ercole in minorità. La sua entrata e la sua uscita saranno lo strangolare un serpente, e per tale scopo comporrò un’apologia.
MOTE	Trovata eccellente! Così, se qualcuno del pubblico fischia, potrete gridare: ‘Ben fatto, Ercole, ora schiacci il serpente!’—questo è il modo di render graziosa un’offesa, benché pochi abbiano la grazia di farlo.
ARMADO	E per gli altri Prodi?
OLOFERNE	Ne reciterò tre io stesso.
MOTE	Gentiluomo tre volte prode!
ARMADO	Vi dico una cosa?
OLOFERNE	Attendiamo.
ARMADO	Avremo, se questo non riesce, una buffonata. Vi supplico, seguitemi.
OLOFERNE	Via, buon uomo Dull! Non hai detto parola per tutto questo tempo.
DULL	E nemmeno ne ho capita alcuna, signore.
OLOFERNE	Allons! Ti impiegheremo.
DULL	Farò la mia parte in una danza o giù di lì, o suonerò il tamburello ai Prodi, e che ballino la ‘hay’.
OLOPERNE	Ottusissimo, onesto Dull! Al nostro spasso, via.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Princess and her ladies: Rosaline, Maria, and Catherine
PRINCESS	Sweethearts, we shall be 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.
ROSALINE	Madam, came nothing else along with that?
PRINCESS	Nothing but this?—yes, as much love in rhyme As would be crammed up in a sheet of paper Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margin and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
ROSALINE	That was the way to make his godhead wax, For he hath been five thousand year a boy.
CATHERINE	Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows, too.
ROSALINE	You’ll ne’er be friends with him, a killed your sister.
CATHERINE	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 ha’ been a grandam ere she died; And so may you, for a light heart lives long.
ROSALINE	What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
CATHERINE	A light condition in a beauty dark.
ROSALINE	We need more light to find your meaning out.
CATHERINE	You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff, Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.
ROSALINE	Look what you do, you do it still i’th’ dark.
CATHERINE	So do not you, for you are a light wench.
ROSALINE	Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
CATHERINE	You weigh me not? O, that’s you care not for me.
ROSALINE	Great reason, for past care is still past cure.
PRINCESS	Well bandied, both; a set of wit well played. But Rosaline, you have a favour, too. Who sent it? And what is it?
ROSALINE	I would you knew. An if my face were but as fair as yours My favour were as great, be witness this. Nay, I have verses, too, I thank Biron, The numbers true, and were the numb’ring, 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.
PRINCESS	Anything like?
ROSALINE	Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
PRINCESS	Beauteous as ink—a good conclusion.
CATHERINE	Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
ROSALINE	Ware pencils, ho! Let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter. O, that your face were not so full of O’s !
PRINCESS	A pox of that jest; I beshrew all shrews. But Catherine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine ?
CATHERINE	Madam, this glove.
PRINCESS	Did he not send you twain ?
CATHERINE	Yes, madam; and moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover. A huge translation of hypocrisy Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.
MARIA	This and these pearls to me sent Longueville. The letter is too long by half a mile.
PRINCESS	I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart The chain were longer and the letter short?
MARIA	Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
PRINCESS	We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
ROSALINE	They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go. O that I knew he were 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 hests, And make him proud to make me proud that jests! So pursuivant-like would I o’ersway his state That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
PRINCESS	None are so surely caught when they are catched As wit turned fool. Folly in wisdom hatched Hath wisdom’s warrant, and the help of school, And wit’s own grace, to grace a learned fool.
ROSALINE	The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.
MARIA	Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As fool’ry in the wise when wit doth dote, Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.
(didascalia)	Enter Boyet
PRINCESS	Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
BOYET	O, I am stabbed with laughter! Where’s her grace?
PRINCESS	Thy news, Boyet?
BOYET	Prepare, madam, prepare. Arm, wenches, arm. Encounters mounted are Against your peace. Love doth approach disguised, Armed in arguments. You’ll be surprised. Muster your wits, stand in your own defence, Or hide your heads like cowards and fly hence.
PRINCESS	Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say.
BOYET	Under the cool shade of a sycamore I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour When lo, to interrupt my purposed rest Toward that shade I might behold addressed The King and his companions. Warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by And overheard what you shall overhear: That by and by disguised they will be here. Their herald is a pretty knavish page That well by heart hath conned his embassage. Action and accent did they teach him there. ‘Thus must thou speak’, and ‘thus thy body bear’. And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majestical would put him out, ‘For’, quoth the King, ‘an angel shalt thou see, Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’ The boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil. I should have feared her had she been a devil.’ With that all laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. One rubbed his elbow thus, and fleered, and swore A better speech was never spoke before. Another with his finger and his thumb Cried ‘Via, we will do’t, come what will come!’ The third he capered and cried ‘All goes welll’ The fourth turned on the toe and down he fell. With that they all did tumble on the ground With such a zealous laughter, so profound, That in this spleen ridiculous appears, To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.
PRINCESS	But what, but what—come they to visit us?
BOYET	They do, they do, and are apparelled thus
(didascalia)
BOYET	Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. Their purpose is to parley, to court and dance, And every one his love-suit will advance Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know By favours several which they did bestow.
PRINCESS	And will they so ? The gallants shall be tasked, For, ladies, we will every one be masked, And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face. (To Rosaline) Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine. So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. She changes favours with Rosaline (To Catherine and Maria) And change you favours, too. So shall your loves Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. Catherine and Maria change favours
ROSALINE	Come on, then, wear the favours most in sight.
CATHERINE	But in this changing what is your intent?
PRINCESS	The effect of my intent is to cross theirs. They do it but in mockery-merriment, And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook, and so be mocked withal Upon the next occasion that we meet With visages displayed to talk and greet.
ROSALINE	But shall we dance if they desire us to’t?
PRINCESS	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 her face.
BOYET	Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part.
PRINCESS	Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt The rest will ne‘er 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 depart away with shame. A trumpet sounds
BOYET	The trumpet sounds, be masked, the masquers come. The ladies mask.
(didascalia)	Enter blackamoors with music; the boy Mote with
BOYET	a speech ; the King and his lords, disguised as Russians
MOTE	All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
BIRON	(aside) Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.
MOTE	A holy parcel of the fairest dames— The ladies turn their backs to him That ever turned their—backs to mortal views.
BIRON	‘Their eyes’, villain, ‘their eyes’!
MOTE	That ever turned their eyes to mortal views. Out …
BOYET	True, out indeed!
MOTE	Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold—
BIRON	‘Once to behold’, rogue!
MOTE	Once to behold with your sun-beamèd eyes— With your sun-beamèd eyes—
BOYET	They will not answer to that epithet. You were best call it ‘daughter-beamèd’ eyes.
MOTE	They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
BIRON	Is this your perfectness? Be gone, you rogue!
(didascalia)	Exit Mote
ROSALINE	(as the Princess) What would these strangers ? 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 Princess?
BIRON	Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
ROSALINE	What would they, say they?
BOYET	Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
ROSALINE	Why, that they have, and bid them so be gone.
BOYET	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.
BOYET	They say that they have measured many a mile To tread a measure with you on this grass.
ROSALINE	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.
BOYET	If to come hither you have measured miles, And many miles, the Princess bids you tell How many inches doth fill up one mile.
BIRON	Tell her we measure them by weary steps.
BOYET	She hears herself.
ROSALINE	How many weary steps Of many weary miles you have o’ergone Are numbered in the travel of one mile?
BIRON	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.
ROSALINE	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 stars, to shine, Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.
ROSALINE	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. Thou bid’st me beg; this begging is not strange.
ROSALINE	Play, music, then.
(didascalia)	Music plays
ROSALINE	Nay, you must do it soon. Not yet?—no dance! Thus change I like the moon.
KING	Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
ROSALINE	You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.
KING	Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
(didascalia)	215
KING	The music plays, vouchsafe some motion to it.
ROSALINE	Our ears vouchsafe it.
KING	But your legs should do it.
ROSALINE	Since you are strangers and come here by chance We’ll not be nice. Take hands. We will not dance.
KING	Why take we hands, then?
ROSALINE	Only to part friends. Curtsy, sweethearts, and so the measure ends.
KING	More measure of this measure, be not nice.
ROSALINE	We can afford no more at such a price.
KING	Price you yourselves. What buys your company?
ROSALINE	Your absence only.
KING	That can never be.
ROSALINE	Then cannot we be bought, and so adieu— Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
KING	If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.
ROSALINE	In private, then.
KING	I am best pleased with that. The King and Rosaline talk apart
BIRON	(to the Princess, taking her for Rosaline) White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
PRINCESS	Honey and milk and sugar—there is three.
BIRON	Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice— Metheglin, wort, and malmsey—well run, dice! There’s half-a-dozen sweets.
PRINCESS	Seventh sweet, adieu. Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.
BIRON	One word in secret.
PRINCESS	Let it not be sweet.
BIRON	Thou griev’st my gall.
PRINCESS	Gall—bitter!
BIRON	Therefore meet. Biron and the Princess talk apart
DUMAINE	(to Maria, taking her for Catherine) Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
MARIA	Name it.
DUMAINE	Fair lady—
MARIA	Say you so? Fair lord- Take that for your ‘fair lady’.
DUMAINE	Please it you, As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. Dumaine and Maria talk apart
CATHERINE	What, was your visor made without a tongue?
LONGUEVILLE	(taking Catherine for Maria) I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
CATHERINE	O, for your reason ! Quickly, sir, I long.
LONGUEVILLE	You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half.
CATHERINE	‘Veal’, quoth the Dutchman. Is not veal a calf?
LONGUEVILLE	A calf, fair lady?
CATHERINE	No, a fair lord calf.
LONGUEVILLE	Let’s part the word.
CATHERINE	No, I’ll not be your half. Take all and wean it, it may prove an ox.
LONGUEVILLE	Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks ! Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so.
CATHERINE	Then die a calf before your horns do grow.
LONGUEVILLE	One word in private with you ere I die.
CATHERINE	Bleat softly, then. The butcher hears you cry. Longueville and Catherine talk apart
BOYET	The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor’s edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, Above the sense of sense; so sensible Seemeth their conference. Their conceits have wings Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
ROSALINE	Not one word more, my maids. Break off, break off.
BIRON	By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
KING	Farewell, mad wenches, you have simple wits.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the King, lords, and blackamoors
(didascalia)	The ladies unmask
PRINCESS	Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?
BOYET	Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out.
ROSALINE	Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
PRINCESS	O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout ! Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight, Or ever but in visors show their faces? This pert Biron was out of count’nance quite.
ROSALINE	Ah, they were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
PRINCESS	Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
MARIA	Dumaine was at my service, and his sword. ‘Non point,’ quoth I. My servant straight was mute.
CATHERINE	Lord Longueville said I came o’er his heart, And trow you what he called me?
PRINCESS	‘Qualm’, perhaps.
CATHERINE	Yes, in good faith.
PRINCESS	Go, sickness as thou art.
ROSALINE	Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear? The King is my love sworn.
PRINCESS	And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
CATHERINE	And Longueville was for my service born.
MARIA	Dumaine is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
BOYET	Madam, 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.
PRINCESS	Will they return?
BOYET	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.
PRINCESS	How ‘blow’ ? How ‘blow’ ? Speak to be understood.
BOYET	Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud; Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
PRINCESS	Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do If they return in their own shapes to woo?
ROSALINE	Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised, Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised. Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear, And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penned, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us.
BOYET	Ladies, withdraw. The gallants are at hand.
PRINCESS	Whip, to our tents, as roes run over land!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the ladies
(didascalia)	Enter the King, Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville, as themselves
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.
BOYET	I will, and so will she, I know, my lord. Exit
BIRON	This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons peas, And utters it again when God doth please. He is wit’s pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes and wassails, 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 Eve. A can carve too, and lisp, why, this is he That kissed his hand away 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 ushering 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 everyone To show his teeth as white as whales bone, And consciences that will not die in debt Pay him the due of ‘honey-tongued’ Boyet.
KING	A blister on his sweet tongue with my heart, That put Armado’s page out of his part!
(didascalia)	Enter the ladies and Boyet
BIRON	See where it comes. Behaviour, what wert thou Till this madman showed thee, and what art thou now ?
KING	All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
PRINCESS	‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive.
KING	Construe my speeches better, if you may.
PRINCESS	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.
PRINCESS	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.
PRINCESS	You nickname virtue. ‘Vice’ you should have spoke, For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth. Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house’s 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.
PRINCESS	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?
PRINCESS	Ay, in truth, my lord. Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.
ROSALINE	Madam, speak true.—It is not so, my lord. My lady, to the manner of the days, In courtesy gives undeserving praise. We four indeed 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 fain have drink.
BIRON	This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet, Your wits makes wise things foolish. When we greet, With eyes’ best seeing, heaven’s 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.
ROSALINE	This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye—
BIRON	I am a fool, and full of poverty.
ROSALINE	But that you take what doth to you belong It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
BIRON	O, I am yours, and all that I possess.
ROSALINE	All the fool mine!
BIRON	I cannot give you less.
ROSALINE	Which of the visors was it that you wore?
BIRON	Where? When? What visor? Why demand you this?
ROSALINE	There, then, that visor, that superfluous case, That hid the worse and showed the better face.
KING	(aside to the lords) We were descried. They’ll mock us now, downright.
DUMAINE	(aside to the King) Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
PRINCESS	Amazed, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?
ROSALINE	Help, hold his brows, he’ll swoon. Why look you pale? Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
BIRON	Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here 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 nevermore to dance, Nor nevermore in Russian habit wait. O, never will I trust to speeches penned, Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue, Nor never come in visor to my friend, Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song. Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, 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 shall be expressed In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes. And to begin, wench, so God help me, law! My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
ROSALINE	Sans ‘sans’, I pray you.
BIRON	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. Write ‘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 Lord’s tokens on you do I see.
PRINCESS	No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
BIRON	Our states are forfeit. Seek not to undo us.
ROSALINE	It is not so, for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
BIRON	Peace, for I will not have to do with you.
ROSALINE	Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
BIRON	(to the lords) Speak for yourselves. My wit is at an end.
KING	Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse.
PRINCESS	The fairest is confession. Were not you here but even now disguised?
KING	Madam, I was.
PRINCESS	And were you well advised?
KING	I was, fair madam.
PRINCESS	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.
PRINCESS	When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
KING	Upon mine honour, no.
PRINCESS	Peace, peace,forbear. Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
KING	Despise me when I break this oath of mine.
PRINCESS	I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
ROSALINE	Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eyesight, and did value me Above this world, adding thereto moreover That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
PRINCESS	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.
ROSALINE	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.
PRINCESS	Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear, And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. (To Biron) What, will you have me, or your pearl again?
BIRON	Neither of either. I remit both twain. I see the trick on’t. Here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas comedy. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed, Told our intents before, which once disclosed, The ladies did change favours, and then we, Following the signs, wooed 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, (to Boyet) and might not you Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady’s foot by th’ square, 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 allowed. Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. You leer upon me, do you? There’s an eye Wounds like a leaden sword.
BOYET	Full merrily Hath this brave manège, this career been run.
BIRON	Lo, he is tilting straight. Peace, I have done.
(didascalia)	Enter Costard the clown
BIRON	Welcome, pure wit. Thou partest a fair fray.
COSTARD	O Lord, sir, they would know 485 Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
BIRON	What, are there but three?
COSTARD	No, sir, but it is vara fine, For everyone pursents three.
BIRON	And three times thrice is nine.
COSTARD	Not so, sir, under correction, sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us, sir. I can assure you, sir, we know what we know. I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir—
BIRON	Is not nine?
COSTARD	Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
BIRON	By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
COSTARD	O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reck’ning, sir. BIRON How much is it?
COSTARD	O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount. For mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.
BIRON	Art thou one of the Worthies?
COSTARD	It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great. For mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
BIRON	Go, bid them prepare.
COSTARD	We will turn it finely off, sir. We will take some care.
(didascalia)	Exit
KING	Biron, they will shame us. Let them not approach.
BIRON	We are shame-proof, my lord, and ‘tis some policy To have one show worse than the King’s and his company.
KING	I say they shall not come.
PRINCESS	Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now. That sport best pleases that doth least know how. Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
(didascalia)	Dies in the zeal of that which it presents,
PRINCESS	There form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth.
BIRON	A right description of our sport, my lord.
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart
ARMADO	(to the King) Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.
(didascalia)	Armado and the King speak apart
PRINCESS	Doth this man serve God?
BIRON	Why ask you?
PRINCESS	A speaks not like a man of God his making.
ARMADO	That is all one, my fair sweet honey monarch, for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical, too-too vain, too-too vain. But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement.
(didascalia)	Exit
KING	Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy, the swain Pompey the Great, the parish curate Alexander, Armado’s page Hercules, the pedant Judas Maccabeus, And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits and present the other five.
BIRON	There is five in the first show.
KING	You are deceived, ’tis not so.
BIRON	The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy, Abate throw at novum and the whole world again Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
KING	The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
(didascalia)	Enter Costard the clown as Pompey
COSTARD	(as Pompey) I Pompey am—
BIRON	You lie, you are not he.
COSTARD	(as Pompey) I Pompey am—
BOYET	With leopard’s head on knee.
BIRON	Well said, old mocker. I must needs be friends with thee.
COSTARD	(as Pompey) I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big.
DUMAINE	‘The Great’.
COSTARD	It is ‘Great’, sir— (As Pompey) Pompey surnamed the Great, That oft in field with targe and shield did make my foe to sweat, And travelling along this coast I here am come by chance, And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.— If your ladyship would say ‘Thanks, Pompey’, I had done.
(didascalia)	PRTNCESS Great thanks, great Pompey.
COSTARD	‘Tis not so much worth, but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in ‘great’.
BIRON	My hat to a halfpenny Pompey proves the best Worthy. Costard stands aside.
(didascalia)	Enter Nathaniel the curate as Alexander
NATHANIEL	(as Alexander) When in the world I lived I was the world’s commander. By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might. My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander.
BOYET	Your nose says no, you are not, for it stands too right.
BIRON	(to Boyet) Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.
PRINCESS	The conqueror is dismayed. Proceed, good Alexander.
NATHANIEL	(as Alexander) When in the world I lived I was the world’s commander.
BOYET	Most true, ’tis right, you were so, Alisander.
BIRON	(to Costard) Pompey the Great.
COSTARD	Your servant, and Costard.
BIRON	Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
COSTARD	(to Nathaniel) O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander the Conqueror. You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion that holds his poleaxe sitting on a close-stool will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror and afeard to speak? Run away for shame, Alisander.
(didascalia)	Exit Nathaniel the curate
COSTARD	There, an’t shall please you, a foolish mild man, an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler, but for Alisander—alas, you see how ‘tis—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.
PRINCESS	Stand aside, good Pompey.
(didascalia)	Enter Holofernes the pedant as Judas, and the boy Mote as Hercules
HOLOFERNES	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. (To Mote) Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.
(didascalia)	Exit Mote
HOLOFERNES	(as Judas) Judas I am—
DUMAINE	A Judas?
HOLOFERNES	Not Iscariot, sir. (As Judas) Judas I am, yclept Maccabeus.
DUMAINE	Judas Maccabeus clipped is plain Judas.
BIRON	A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas ?
HOLOFERNES	(as Judas) Judas I am—
DUMAINE	The more shame for you, Judas.
HOLOFERNES	What mean you, sir?
BOYET	To make Judas hang himself.
HOLOFERNES	Begin, sir. You are my elder.
BIRON	Well followed—Judas was hanged on an elder.
HOLOFERNES	I will not be put out of countenance. 601
BIRON	Because thou hast no face.
HOLOFERNES	What is this?
BOYET	A cittern-head.
DUMAINE	The head of a bodkin.
BIRON	A death’s face in a ring.
LONGUEVILLE	The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
BOYET	The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.
DUMAINE	The carved-bone face on a flask.
BIRON	Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.
DUMAINE	Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
BIRON	Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance.
HOLOFERNES	You have put me out of countenance.
BIRON	False, we have given thee faces.
HOLOFERNES	But you have outfaced them all.
BIRON	An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
BOYET	Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
DUMAINE	For the latter end of his name.
BIRON	For the ass to the Jude. Give it him. Jud-as, away.
HOLOFERNES	This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
BOYET	A light for Monsieur Judas. It grows dark, he may stumble.
(didascalia)	Exit Holofernes
PRINCESS	Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been baited !
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart as Hector
BIRON	Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in arms.
DUMAINE	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.
LONGUEVILLE	His leg is too big for Hector’s.
DUMAINE	More calf, certain.
BOYET	No, he is best endowed in the small.
BIRON	This cannot be Hector.
DUMAINE	He’s a god, or a painter, for he makes faces.
ARMADO	(as Hector) The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift—
DUMAINE	A gilt nutmeg.
BIRON	A lemon.
LONGUEVILLE	Stuck with cloves.
DUMAINE	NO, cloven.
ARMADO	Peace I (As Hector) The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion, A man so breathed that certain he would fight, yea, From morn till night, out of his pavilion. I am that flower—
DUMAINE	That mint.
LONGUEVILLE	That colombine.
ARMADO	Sweet Lord Longueville, rein thy tongue.
LONGUEVILLE	I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.
DUMAINE	Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.
ARMADO	The sweet war-man is dead and rotten. Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried. When he breathed he was a man. But I will forward with my device. (To the Princess) Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. Biron steps forth
PRINCESS	Speak, brave Hector, we are much delighted.
ARMADO	I do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.
BOYET	Loves her by the foot.
DUMAINE	He may not by the yard.
ARMADO	(as Hector) This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.
(didascalia)
ARMADO	The party is gone.
COSTARD	Fellow Hector, she is gone, she is two months on her way.
ARMADO	What meanest thou?
COSTARD	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.
ARMADO	Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.
COSTARD	Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him. 675
DUMAINE	Most rare Pompey!
BOYET	Renowned Pompey!
BIRON	Greater than great—great, great, great Pompey, Pompey the Huge.
DUMAINE	Hector trembles.
BIRON	Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates—stir them on, stir them on!
DUMAINE	Hector will challenge him.
BIRON	Ay, if a have no more man’s blood in his belly than will sup a flea.
ARMADO	By the North Pole, I do challenge thee.
COSTARD	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.
DUMAINE	Room for the incensed Worthies.
COSTARD	I’ll do it in my shirt.
DUMAINE	Most resolute Pompey.
MOTE	(aside to Armado) Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose your reputation.
ARMADO	Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me. I will not combat in my shirt.
DUMAINE	You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.
ARMADO	Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
BIRON	What reason have you for’t?
ARMADO	The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance.
(didascalia)	MOTE True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen, since when I’ll be sworn he wore none but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta’s, and that a wears next his heart, for a favour.
(didascalia)	Enter a messenger, Monsieur Mercadé
ARMADO	MERCADÉ God save you, madam.
PRINCESS	Welcome, Mercadé, But that thou interrupt’st our merriment. MERCADÉ I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father—
PRINCESS	Dead, for my life. MERCADÉ Even so. My tale is told.
BIRON	Worthies, away. The scene begins to cloud.
ARMADO	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Worthies
KING	How fares your majesty ?
QUEEN	Boyet, prepare. I will away tonight.
KING	Madam, not so, I do beseech you stay.
QUEEN	Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours, and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide The liberal opposition of our spirits. If 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 nimble 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 loose decides That which long process could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progeny Forbid the smiling courtesy of love The holy suit which fain it would convince, Yet since love’s argument was first on foot, Let not the cloud of sorrow jostle it From what it purposed, since to wail friends lost Is not by much so wholesome-profitable As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
QUEEN	I understand you not. My griefs are double.
BIRON	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 foul play 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 strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance; Which parti-coated presence of loose love Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, Those heavenly eyes that look into these faults Suggested us to make them. 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.
QUEEN	We have received your letters full of love, Your favours the ambassadors of love, And in our maiden council rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time. But more devout than this in our respects Have we not been, and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment.
DUMAINE	Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest.
LONGUEVILLE	So did our looks.
ROSALINE	We did not quote them so.
KING	Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.
QUEEN	A time, methinks, 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 frosts 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 will 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 entitled in the other’s heart.
KING	If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest The sudden hand of death close up mine eye. Hence, hermit, then. My heart is in thy breast. They talk apart
DUMAINE	(to Catherine) But what to me, my love? But what to me? A wife?
CATHERINE	A beard, fair health, and honesty. With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
DUMAINE	O, shall I say ‘I thank you, gentle wife’?
CATHERINE	Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say. Come when the King doth to my lady come; Then if I have much love, I’ll give you some.
DUMAINE	I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
CATHERINE	Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again. They talk apart
LONGUEVILLE	What says Maria?
MARIA	At the twelvemonth’s end I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
LONGUEVILLE	I’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.
MARIA	The liker you—few taller are so young. They talk apart
BIRON	(to Rosaline) 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.
ROSALINE	Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, Which you on all estates will execute That lie within the mercy of your wit. To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, And therewithal to win me if you please, Without the which I am not to be won, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick and still converse With groaning wretches, and your task shall be With all the fierce endeavour of your wit To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
BIRON	To move wild laughter in the throat of death?— It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
ROSALINE	Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools. A jest’s 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.
BIRON	A twelvemonth? Well, befall what will befall, I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
QUEEN	(to the King) Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave.
KING	No, madam, we will bring you on your way.
BIRON	Our wooing doth not end like an old play. Jack hath not Jill. These ladies’ courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy.
KING	Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth an’ a day, And then ’twill end.
BIRON	That’s too long for a play.
(didascalia)	Enter Armado the braggart
ARMADO	(to the King) Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me.
QUEEN	Was not that Hector?
DUMAINE	The worthy knight of Troy.
ARMADO	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.
ARMADO	Holla, approach!
(didascalia)	Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Costard, Mote, Dull, Jaquenetta, and others
ARMADO	This side is Hiems, winter, This Ver, the spring, the one maintained by the owl, The other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
SPRING	(sings) When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks, all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then on every tree Mocks married men, for thus sings 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 sings he: Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo—O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.
WINTER	(sings) When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; When blood is nipped, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit, tu-whoo!—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson’s saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian’s nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit, tu-whoo!—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
(didascalia)	ARMADO The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way, we this way. Exeunt, severally
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. The following lines found after 4.3.293 in the First Quarto represent an unrevised version of parts of Biron’s long speech, 4.3.287-341. The first six lines form the basis of 4.3.294-9; the next three are revised at 4.3.326- 30; the next four at 4.3.300-2; the last nine are less directly related to the revised version. And where that you have vowed to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study’s excellence Without the beauty of a woman’s face? From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive. They are the ground, the books, the academes, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. Why, universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller. 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 author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are, our learning likewise is. Then when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes With ourselves. Do we not likewise see our learning there? B. The following two lines, spoken by the Princess and found after 5.2.130 in the First Quarto, seem to represent a first draft of 5.2.131-2. Hold, Rosaline. This favour thou shalt wear, And then the King will court thee for his dear. C. The following lines found after 5.2.809 in the First Quarto represent a draft version of 5.2.824-41.
BIRON	And what to me, my love? And what to me?
ROSALINE	You must be purged, too. Your sins are rank. You are attaint with faults and perjury. Therefore if you my favour mean to get A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest But seek the weary beds of people sick.
LOVE’S LABOUR’S WON	A BRIEF ACCOUNT
IN	1598, Francis Meres called as witnesses to Shakespeare’s excellence in comedy ‘his Gentlemen of Verona, his Errors, his Love Labour’s Lost, his Love Labour’s Wone, his Midsummer’s Night Dream, and his Merchant of Venice’. This was the only evidence that Shakespeare wrote a play called Love’s Labour’s Won until the discovery in 1953 of a fragment of a bookseller’s list that had been used in the binding of a volume published in 1637/8. The fragment itself appears to record titles sold from 9 to 17 August 1603 by a book dealer in the south of England. Among items headed ‘[inte]rludes & tragedyes’ are marchant of vennis taming of a shrew knak to know a knave knak to know an honest man loves labor lost loves labor won No author is named for any of the items. All the plays named in the list except Love’s Labour’s Won are known to have been printed by 1600; all were written by 1596-7. Taken together, Meres’s reference in 1598 and the 1603 fragment appear to demonstrate that a play by Shakespeare called Love’s Labour’s Won had been performed by the time Meres wrote and was in print by August 1603. Conceivably the phrase served as an alternative title for one of Shakespeare’s other comedies, though the only one believed to have been written by 1598 but not listed by Meres is The Taming of the Shrew, which is named (as The Taming of A Shrew) in the bookseller’s fragment. Otherwise we must suppose that Love’s Labour’s Won is the title of a lost play by Shakespeare, that no copy of the edition mentioned in the bookseller’s list is extant, and that Heminges and Condell failed to include it in the 1623 Folio. None of these suppositions is implausible. We know of at least one other lost play attributed to Shakespeare (see Cardenio, below), and of many lost works by contemporary playwrights. No copy of the first edition of Titus Andronicus was known until 1904; for I Henry IV and The Passionate Pilgrim only a fragment of the first edition survives. And we now know that Troilus and Cressida was almost omitted from the 1623 Folio (probably for copyright reasons) despite its evident authenticity. It is also possible that, like most of the early editions of Shakespeare’s plays, the lost edition of Love’s Labour’s Won did not name him on the title-page, and this omission might go some way to explaining the failure of the edition to survive, or (if it does) to be noticed. Love’s Labour’s Won stands a much better chance of having survived, somewhere, than Cardenio: because it was printed, between 500 and 1,500 copies were once in circulation, whereas for Cardenio we know of only a single manuscript. The evidence for the existence of the lost play (unlike that for Cardenio) gives us little indication of its content. Meres explicitly states, and the title implies, that it was a comedy. Its titular pairing with Love’s Labour’s Lost suggests that they may have been written at about the same time. Both Meres and the bookseller’s catalogue place it after Love’s Labour’s Lost; although neither list is necessarily chronological, Meres’s does otherwise agree with our own view of the order of composition of Shakespeare’s comedies.

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Principessa e le sue dame: Rosaline, Maria e Catherine
PRINCIPESSA	Care mie, saremo ricche prima di partire, se i doni di fiera entrano così abbondanti. Una dama murata tutt’intorno di diamanti— guardate che cosa ho dall’amoroso Re.
ROSALINE	Madama, non è venuto altro insieme a questo?
PRINCIPESSA	Nient’altro che questo?—sì, tanto amore in rima quanto se ne può stipare in un foglio di carta scritto d’ambo i lati, margini compresi, ch’egli fu costretto a sigillare sul nome di Cupido.
ROSALINE	Quello era il modo di far crescere in cera la sua divinità, ché da cinquemila anni è un ragazzo.
CATHERINE	Sì, e anche un maledetto e malizioso pendaglio da forca.
ROSALINE	Non farete mai pace con lui: v’ha ucciso la sorella.
CATHERINE	La fece malinconica, triste e greve, e così morì. Fosse stata leggera come voi, di spirito tanto allegro, agile e vivace, sarebbe potuta esser nonna prima di morire; e così potreste voi, ché cuor leggero vive a lungo.
ROSALINE	Qual è il vostro oscuro senso, topolina, in questa parola leggera?
CATHERINE	Una condotta leggera in una bellezza scura.
ROSALINE	Ci occorre più luce per scoprire il vostro senso.
CATHERINE	Guasterete la luce prendendola col moccolo, perciò porrò oscuramente fine all’argomento.
ROSALINE	Qualunque cosa facciate, la fate sempre al buio.
CATHERINE	Non voi, ché siete una ragazza leggera.
ROSALINE	Davvero io non vi peso, e perciò son leggera.
CATHERINE	Non mi pesate? Oh, cioè non v’importa di me.
ROSALINE	Gran ragione, ché ciò di cui più non ci si cura è oltre ogni cura.
PRINCIPESSA	Ben rimandata, tutt’e due; una partita d’ingegno ben giocata. Ma Rosaline, anche voi avete un pegno. Chi l’ha mandato? E che cos’è?
ROSALINE	Vorrei che lo sapeste. Se il mio viso fosse bello quanto il vostro, il mio pegno sarebbe altrettanto grande: ne sia testimone questo. Anzi, ho anch’io dei versi, grazie a Biron: i numeri son giusti, e se giusto fosse anche il computo, sarei la più bella dea che cammini sulla terra. Son paragonata a ventimila bellezze. Oh, egli ha disegnato il mio ritratto nella sua lettera.
PRINCIPESSA	Somiglia in qualcosa?
ROSALINE	Molto nelle lettere, nulla nella lode.
PRINCIPESSA	Bella come l’inchiostro—buona conclusione.
CATHERINE	Bella come una B maiuscola in un quaderno di calligrafia.
ROSALINE	Attente ai pennelli, olà! Ch’io non muoia vostra debitrice, mia rossa domenicale, mia lettera d’oro. Oh, se il vostro viso non fosse così pieno di O!
PRINCIPESSA	Il malanno a codesta burla; maledico tutte le bisbetiche. Ma Catherine, che cosa vi fu mandato dal bel Dumaine?
CATHERINE	Madama, questo guanto.
PRINCIPESSA	Non ve ne mandò due?
CATHERINE	Sì, madama; e per di più, un migliaio di versi d’un fedele amante. Un’enorme traduzione d’ipocrisia vilmente compilata, profonda semplicità.
MARIA	Questo e queste perle mi mandò Longueville. La lettera è più lunga di mezzo miglio del dovuto.
PRINCIPESSA	Lo credo bene. Non desideri in cuore che la catena fosse più lunga e la lettera breve?
MARIA	Sì, o che queste mani non si separassero mai.
PRINCIPESSA	Siamo ragazze sagge a beffare così i nostri innamorati.
ROSALINE	Son più folli loro a comprarsi così le beffe. Quel Biron lo torturerò prima d’andarmene. Oh, se sapessi ch’egli è preso per la settimana!— Come lo farei adulare, supplicare, cercare, e attendere la stagione, e osservare i tempi, e spendere il suo prodigo ingegno in rime inutili, e foggiare tutto il suo servizio ai miei comandi, e farlo fiero di render fiera me che lo beffo! Così, a modo di messo regio, dominerei il suo stato ch’egli sarebbe il mio folle, e io il suo destino.
PRINCIPESSA	Nessuno è preso così sicuramente, quando è preso, quanto l’ingegno fattosi folle. La follia covata nella saggezza ha la garanzia della saggezza, e l’aiuto della scuola, e la grazia stessa dell’ingegno, per adornare un folle dotto.
ROSALINE	Il sangue della giovinezza non arde con tanto eccesso quanto la rivolta della gravità alla lascivia.
MARIA	La follia nei folli non suona così forte quanto la follia nei saggi, quando l’ingegno vaneggia, poiché ad essa applica tutto il suo potere per provare, con l’ingegno, il pregio della semplicità.
(didascalia)	Entra Boyet
PRINCIPESSA	Ecco viene Boyet, e l’allegria è sul suo volto.
BOYET	Oh, son trafitto dal riso! Dov’è sua grazia?
PRINCIPESSA	Le tue nuove, Boyet?
BOYET	Preparatevi, madama, preparatevi. All’armi, ragazze, all’armi. Assalti son montati contro la vostra pace. L’Amore s’avvicina travestito, armato d’argomenti. Sarete sorprese. Radunate i vostri ingegni, state sulla difesa, o nascondete il capo come codarde e fuggite di qui.
PRINCIPESSA	San Dionigi contro san Cupido! Chi son costoro che caricano il loro fiato contro di noi? Parla, esploratore, parla.
BOYET	Sotto la fresca ombra d’un sicomoro pensavo di chiudere gli occhi una mezz’ora, quand’ecco, a interrompere il riposo che volevo, verso quell’ombra vidi dirigersi il Re e i suoi compagni. Cautamente mi rifugiai in una macchia vicina e origliai quel che voi origlierete: che fra poco saranno qui travestiti. Il loro araldo è un grazioso paggio furfantello che ha imparato bene a memoria la sua ambasciata. Gesto e accento gli insegnarono là. ‘Così devi parlare’, e ‘così portare il tuo corpo’. E di tanto in tanto avevano il dubbio che la presenza maestosa lo sconcertasse: ‘ché’, disse il Re, ‘un angelo vedrai; ma tu non temere, e parla audacemente.’ Il ragazzo rispose: ‘Un angelo non è malvagio. L’avrei temuta se fosse stata un diavolo.’ A ciò tutti risero e gli batterono sulla spalla, rendendo il baldo monello più baldo con le loro lodi. Uno si fregò il gomito così, e sogghignò, e giurò che discorso migliore non fu mai pronunciato. Un altro, col dito e col pollice, gridò: ‘Via, lo faremo, avvenga che può!’ Il terzo saltellò e gridò: ‘Tutto va bene!’ Il quarto girò sulla punta del piede e cadde giù. A ciò tutti ruzzolarono a terra con un riso così zelante, così profondo, che in questo ridicolo accesso appaiono, a frenare la loro follia, le solenni lacrime della passione.
PRINCIPESSA	Ma come, ma come—vengono a visitarci?
BOYET	Sì, vengono, vengono, e son vestiti così
(didascalia)
BOYET	Come moscoviti o russi, a quel che immagino. Il loro scopo è parlamentare, corteggiare e danzare, e ciascuno avanzerà la sua domanda d’amore alla propria dama, che riconosceranno dai singoli pegni che donarono.
PRINCIPESSA	Davvero? I galanti saranno messi alla prova, ché, signore, saremo tutte mascherate, e nessuno di loro avrà la grazia, malgrado le suppliche, di vedere il volto d’una dama. (A Rosaline) Tieni, prendi questo, mia cara, e dammi il tuo. Così Biron prenderà me per Rosaline. Scambia i pegni con Rosaline (A Catherine e Maria) E scambiate anche voi i pegni. Così i vostri innamorati corteggeranno a rovescio, ingannati da questi scambi. Catherine e Maria si scambiano i pegni
ROSALINE	Su, dunque, portate i pegni ben in vista.
CATHERINE	Ma in questo scambio qual è il vostro intento?
PRINCIPESSA	L’effetto del mio intento è di attraversare il loro. Lo fanno solo per beffarda allegria, e beffa per beffa è tutto il mio intento. Sveleranno i loro particolari segreti ad amori scambiati, e così saran beffati alla prossima occasione in cui c’incontreremo a viso scoperto per parlare e salutarci.
ROSALINE	Ma danzeremo, se lo desiderano?
PRINCIPESSA	No, fino alla morte non muoveremo un piede, né al loro discorso scritto renderemo grazia alcuna, ma mentre è recitato ciascuna volga altrove il viso.
BOYET	Ma quel disprezzo ucciderà il cuore dell’oratore, e divorzierà del tutto la sua memoria dalla sua parte.
PRINCIPESSA	Perciò lo faccio; e non ho dubbio che gli altri non entreranno se lui esce di parte. Non c’è spasso pari allo spasso rovesciato dallo spasso, a far nostro il loro, e il nostro nient’altro che nostro. Così resteremo, beffando il giuoco che intendevano, ed essi, ben beffati, se n’andranno con vergogna. Suona una tromba
BOYET	La tromba suona: mascheratevi, vengono i mascherati. Le dame si mascherano.
(didascalia)	Entrano dei mori con la musica; il ragazzo Mote con
BOYET	un discorso; il Re e i suoi signori, travestiti da russi
MOTE	Salute a voi, le più ricche bellezze della terra!
BIRON	(a parte) Bellezze non più ricche di ricco taffetà.
MOTE	Un santo drappello delle più belle dame— Le dame gli voltano le spalle che mai volsero le loro—spalle a sguardi mortali.
BIRON	‘I loro occhi’, furfante, ‘i loro occhi’!
MOTE	che mai volsero i loro occhi a sguardi mortali. Fuori…
BOYET	Vero, fuori davvero!
MOTE	Fuor dei vostri favori, spiriti celesti, degnatevi di non mirare—
BIRON	‘Di mirare una volta’, briccone!
MOTE	di mirare una volta coi vostri occhi raggianti di sole— coi vostri occhi raggianti di sole—
BOYET	Non risponderanno a quell’epiteto. Faresti meglio a chiamarli occhi ‘raggianti di figlie’.
MOTE	Non mi badano, e questo mi fa uscir di parte.
BIRON	È questa la tua perfezione? Va’ via, briccone!
(didascalia)	Esce Mote
ROSALINE	(nella parte della Principessa) Che vogliono questi stranieri? Sappiate i loro intenti, Boyet. Se parlano la nostra lingua, è nostra volontà che qualche uomo semplice riferisca i loro propositi. Sappiate che cosa vogliono.
BOYET	Che volete dalla Principessa?
BIRON	Nient’altro che pace e gentile visita.
ROSALINE	Che vogliono, dicono?
BOYET	Nient’altro che pace e gentile visita.
ROSALINE	Ebbene, questo l’hanno; e dite loro d’andarsene.
BOYET	Dice che l’avete, e che potete andarvene.
RE	Ditele che abbiamo misurato molte miglia per calcare una misura con lei su quest’erba.
BOYET	Dicono d’aver misurato molte miglia per calcare una misura con voi su quest’erba.
ROSALINE	Non è così. Chiedete loro quanti pollici ci sono in un miglio. Se ne hanno misurate molte, la misura d’uno è facile a dirsi.
BOYET	Se per venir qua avete misurato miglia, e molte miglia, la Principessa vi chiede di dire quanti pollici riempiono un miglio.
BIRON	Ditele che le misuriamo a passi stanchi.
BOYET	Ode da sé.
ROSALINE	Quanti passi stanchi, delle molte stanche miglia che avete percorso, si contano nel viaggio d’un solo miglio?
BIRON	Non contiamo nulla di quel che spendiamo per voi. Il nostro dovere è così ricco, così infinito, che possiamo compierlo sempre senza far conti. Degnatevi di mostrare il sole del vostro volto perché noi, come selvaggi, possiamo adorarlo.
ROSALINE	Il mio volto non è che una luna, e per giunta annuvolata.
RE	Benedette le nubi che fanno come tali nubi fanno. Degnatevi, fulgida luna, e queste vostre stelle, di splendere, tolte quelle nubi, sui nostri occhi acquosi.
ROSALINE	Oh vano supplicante, chiedi cosa maggiore. Ora non chiedi che chiaro di luna nell’acqua.
RE	Allora nella nostra danza degnatevi almeno d’un giro. Mi dite di chiedere; questo chiedere non è strano.
ROSALINE	Suoni, dunque, la musica.
(didascalia)	Suona la musica
ROSALINE	No, dovete farlo presto. Non ancora?—niente danza! Così io cambio come la luna.
RE	Non volete danzare? Come mai vi siete così estraniata?
ROSALINE	Prendeste la luna al pieno, ma ora è cambiata.
RE	Eppure ella è sempre la luna, e io l’uomo.
(didascalia)	215
RE	La musica suona: degnatevi di qualche movimento.
ROSALINE	I nostri orecchi se ne degnano.
RE	Ma dovrebbero farlo le vostre gambe.
ROSALINE	Poiché siete stranieri e venuti qui per caso non faremo le schifiltose. Prendete le mani. Non danzeremo.
RE	Perché prendiamo le mani, allora?
ROSALINE	Solo per lasciarci amici. L’inchino, care mie, e così la danza finisce.
RE	Più misura di questa misura, non siate schifiltosa.
ROSALINE	Non possiamo concederne di più a tal prezzo.
RE	Fissate voi il prezzo. Che cosa compra la vostra compagnia?
ROSALINE	Soltanto la vostra assenza.
RE	Questo non può mai essere.
ROSALINE	Allora non possiamo esser comprate, e dunque addio— due volte alla vostra maschera, e mezza volta a voi.
RE	Se rifiutate di danzare, continuiamo a chiacchierare.
ROSALINE	In privato, dunque.
RE	Ciò mi piace assai. Il Re e Rosaline parlano in disparte
BIRON	(alla Principessa, prendendola per Rosaline) Signora dalla bianca mano, una dolce parola con voi.
PRINCIPESSA	Miele e latte e zucchero—eccone tre.
BIRON	E allora due terni, se vi fate così schifiltosa— idromele, mosto e malvasia—ben corsi, dadi! Ecco mezza dozzina di dolcezze.
PRINCIPESSA	Settima dolcezza, addio. Poiché sapete barare, non giocherò più con voi.
BIRON	Una parola in segreto.
PRINCIPESSA	Che non sia dolce.
BIRON	Mi irriti il fiele.
PRINCIPESSA	Fiele—amaro!
BIRON	Perciò acconcio. Biron e la Principessa parlano in disparte
DUMAINE	(a Maria, prendendola per Catherine) Vi degnate di scambiare una parola con me?
MARIA	Ditela.
DUMAINE	Bella signora—
MARIA	Dite così? Bel signore— prendete questo per la vostra ‘bella signora’.
DUMAINE	Se vi piace, altrettanto in privato, e poi dirò addio. Dumaine e Maria parlano in disparte
CATHERINE	Come, la vostra maschera fu fatta senza lingua?
LONGUEVILLE	(prendendo Catherine per Maria) Conosco la ragione, signora, per cui lo chiedete.
CATHERINE	Oh, la vostra ragione! Presto, signore, non sto nella pelle.
LONGUEVILLE	Avete una doppia lingua dentro la vostra maschera, e ne concedereste metà alla mia maschera muta.
CATHERINE	‘Veal’, disse l’olandese. Non è ‘veal’ un vitello?
LONGUEVILLE	Un vitello, bella signora?
CATHERINE	No, un bel signor vitello.
LONGUEVILLE	Dividiamo la parola.
CATHERINE	No, non sarò la vostra metà. Prendete tutto e svezzatelo: potrà diventare un bue.
LONGUEVILLE	Guardate come cozzate voi stessa in queste aspre beffe! Volete dar corna, casta signora? Non fatelo.
CATHERINE	Allora morite vitello prima che vi crescano le corna.
LONGUEVILLE	Una parola in privato con voi prima ch’io muoia.
CATHERINE	Belate piano, allora. Il macellaio vi sente gridare. Longueville e Catherine parlano in disparte
BOYET	Le lingue delle ragazze beffarde son taglienti quanto il filo invisibile del rasoio, che taglia un capello più sottile di quanto si veda, al di sopra del senso del senso; tanto sensibile appare il loro conversare. I loro concetti han ali più veloci di frecce, palle, vento, pensiero, e cose più rapide.
ROSALINE	Non una parola di più, fanciulle mie. Basta, basta.
BIRON	Per il cielo, tutti bastonati a secco di puro scherno!
RE	Addio, pazze ragazze, avete ingegni semplici.
(didascalia)	Escono il Re, i signori e i mori
(didascalia)	Le dame si tolgono la maschera
PRINCIPESSA	Venti addii, miei gelati moscoviti. È questa la razza d’ingegni tanto ammirata?
BOYET	Sono candele, spente dai vostri dolci fiati.
ROSALINE	Hanno ingegni ben pasciuti; grossi, grossi; grassi, grassi.
PRINCIPESSA	Oh povertà d’ingegno, scherno regalmente povero! Non s’impiccheranno, credete, stanotte, o mostreranno mai il viso se non in maschera? Quello sfrontato di Biron fu del tutto sconcertato.
ROSALINE	Ah, erano tutti in stato compassionevole. Il Re era maturo per il pianto in attesa d’una buona parola.
PRINCIPESSA	Biron giurò tanto da uscire d’ogni misura.
MARIA	Dumaine era al mio servizio, e la sua spada. ‘Non point,’ dissi io. Il mio servo subito ammutolì.
CATHERINE	Il signor Longueville disse che gli ero venuta sul cuore, e sapete come mi chiamò?
PRINCIPESSA	‘Malore’, forse.
CATHERINE	Sì, in buona fede.
PRINCIPESSA	Va’ là, malattia che sei.
ROSALINE	Bene, ingegni migliori han portato semplici berretti di legge. Ma volete udire? Il Re è mio amore giurato.
PRINCIPESSA	E lo svelto Biron ha impegnato la fede con me.
CATHERINE	E Longueville nacque per il mio servizio.
MARIA	Dumaine è mio, sicuro come la scorza sull’albero.
BOYET	Madama, e graziose signore, porgete orecchio. Fra un istante saranno di nuovo qui nelle loro sembianze, ché non può essere che digeriscano quest’aspra indegnità.
PRINCIPESSA	Torneranno?
BOYET	Torneranno, torneranno, Dio lo sa, e salteranno di gioia, benché zoppi dalle percosse. Perciò scambiate i pegni, e quando ricompaiono sbocciate come dolci rose in quest’aria d’estate.
PRINCIPESSA	Come ‘sbocciate’? Come ‘sbocciate’? Parlate per farvi capire.
BOYET	Le belle dame mascherate son rose in boccio; smascherate, mostrata la dolce mistura del loro damasco, sono angeli che scoprono le nubi, o rose sbocciate.
PRINCIPESSA	Via, perplessità! Che faremo se tornano nelle loro sembianze a corteggiare?
ROSALINE	Buona madama, se vorrete il mio consiglio, beffiamoli ancora, tanto ben riconosciuti quanto travestiti. Lamentiamoci con loro dei folli che furono qui, travestiti da moscoviti in fogge informi, e domandiamoci con meraviglia chi fossero, e a qual fine i loro spettacoli sciocchi, e il prologo vilmente scritto, e il loro contegno rozzo e tanto ridicolo ci fossero presentati alla nostra tenda.
BOYET	Signore, ritiratevi. I galanti son vicini.
PRINCIPESSA	Presto, alle nostre tende, come caprioli corrono per la terra!
(didascalia)	Escono le dame
(didascalia)	Entrano il Re, Biron, Dumaine e Longueville, in loro stessi
RE	Bel signore, Dio vi salvi. Dov’è la Principessa?
BOYET	Andata alla sua tenda. Piace a vostra maestà affidarmi qualche servizio per lei colà?
RE	Che si degni di darmi udienza per una parola.
BOYET	Lo farò, e così farà lei, lo so, mio signore. Esce
BIRON	Costui becca l’ingegno come i piccioni i piselli, e lo rende quando a Dio piace. È il merciaio dell’ingegno, e vende al minuto la sua merce a sagre e bevute, adunanze, mercati, fiere. E noi che vendiamo all’ingrosso, il Signore lo sa, non abbiamo la grazia d’adornarla con tale mostra. Questo galante s’appunta le ragazze sulla manica. Fosse stato Adamo, avrebbe tentato Eva. Sa anche trinciare e bleseggiare; sì, è lui che a forza di cortesia si baciò via la mano. Questa è la scimmia delle buone maniere, monsieur lo Schizzinoso, che quando gioca a tavole rimprovera i dadi in termini onorevoli. Anzi, sa cantare una parte di mezzo assai meschinamente, e nel far da cerimoniere lo superi chi può. Le dame lo chiamano dolce. I gradini, mentre li calca, gli baciano i piedi. Questo è il fiore che sorride a tutti per mostrare i denti bianchi come osso di balena, e le coscienze che non vogliono morire in debito gli pagano il dovuto di Boyet ‘dalla lingua di miele’.
RE	Una vescica sulla sua dolce lingua, con tutto il cuore, lui che fece uscir di parte il paggio d’Armado!
(didascalia)	Entrano le dame e Boyet
BIRON	Ecco che viene. Buon contegno, che eri tu prima che questo pazzo ti mostrasse, e che sei tu ora?
RE	Salute a voi, dolce madama, e buon tempo del giorno!
PRINCIPESSA	‘Buono’ in ‘salute a voi’ è cattivo, a quel ch’io intendo.
RE	Interpretate meglio i miei discorsi, se potete.
PRINCIPESSA	Allora auguratemi meglio. Ve ne do licenza.
RE	Venimmo a visitarvi, e ora intendiamo condurvi alla nostra corte. Degnatevene, dunque.
PRINCIPESSA	Questo campo mi terrà, e così terrete il vostro voto. Né Dio né io ci dilettiamo d’uomini spergiuri.
RE	Non rimproveratemi ciò che voi provocate. La virtù del vostro occhio deve rompere il mio giuramento.
PRINCIPESSA	Date alla virtù un falso nome. ‘Vizio’ avreste dovuto dire, ché l’ufficio della virtù non rompe mai la fede degli uomini. Ora, per il mio verginale onore, ancora puro come il giglio immacolato, io protesto: dovessi pure sopportare un mondo di tormenti, non acconsentirei a essere ospite della vostra casa, tanto odio essere causa di rottura di giuramenti celesti, votati con integrità.
RE	Oh, avete vissuto qui in desolazione, non veduta, non visitata, a nostra gran vergogna.
PRINCIPESSA	Non è così, mio signore. Non è così, lo giuro. Abbiamo avuto passatempi qui, e piacevole spasso. Una brigata di russi ci ha lasciate or ora.
RE	Come, madama? Russi?
PRINCIPESSA	Sì, in verità, mio signore. Galanti azzimati, pieni di galanteria e di sussiego.
ROSALINE	Madama, dite il vero.—Non è così, mio signore. La mia signora, secondo l’uso dei tempi, per cortesia dà lode immeritata. Noi quattro fummo davvero affrontate da quattro in abito russo. Qui rimasero un’ora, e parlarono a rotta di collo, e in quell’ora, mio signore, non ci benedissero con una sola parola felice. Non oso chiamarli folli, ma questo penso: quando han sete, i folli vorrebbero bere.
BIRON	Questa burla è secca per me. Gentile dolcezza, il vostro ingegno fa sciocche le cose sagge. Quando salutiamo, col miglior vedere degli occhi, l’occhio infocato del cielo, per la luce perdiamo la luce. La vostra capacità è di tale natura che, presso il vostro immenso tesoro, le cose sagge paion sciocche, e le ricche non che povere.
ROSALINE	Questo prova che siete saggio e ricco, ché al mio occhio—
BIRON	sono un folle, e pieno di povertà.
ROSALINE	Se non fosse che prendete ciò che vi appartiene, sarebbe fallo strappare parole dalla mia lingua.
BIRON	Oh, io son vostro, e tutto ciò che posseggo.
ROSALINE	Tutto il folle è mio!
BIRON	Non posso darvi di meno.
ROSALINE	Quale delle maschere era quella che portavate?
BIRON	Dove? Quando? Che maschera? Perché lo domandate?
ROSALINE	Là, allora, quella maschera, quell’astuccio superfluo, che nascondeva il viso peggiore e mostrava il migliore.
RE	(a parte, ai signori) Fummo scoperti. Ora ci beffeggeranno apertamente.
DUMAINE	(a parte, al Re) Confessiamo, e volgiamolo in burla.
PRINCIPESSA	Stupito, mio signore? Perché vostra altezza ha l’aria triste?
ROSALINE	Aiuto, reggetegli la fronte, sverrà. Perché siete pallido? Mal di mare, credo, venendo dalla Moscovia.
BIRON	Così le stelle versano piaghe per lo spergiuro. Può una faccia di bronzo reggere più a lungo? Qui sto io, signora. Scagliami contro la tua arte— ammaccami con lo scherno, confondimi con una beffa, trapassa la mia ignoranza col tuo ingegno acuto, fammi a pezzi col tuo tagliente concetto, e io non ti chiederò mai più di danzare, né mai più t’attenderò in abito russo. Oh, mai più mi fiderò di discorsi scritti, né del moto della lingua d’uno scolaro, né mai verrò mascherato dalla mia amica, né corteggerò in rima, come la canzone d’un arpista cieco. Frasi di taffetà, termini di seta precisi, iperboli a tre peli, affettazione azzimata, figure pedantesche—queste mosche d’estate m’han riempito di vermi d’ostentazione. Le abiuro, e qui protesto, per questo bianco guanto—quanto bianca la mano, Dio lo sa!— che d’ora in poi il mio animo amoroso s’esprimerà in sì di rozzo panno, e in onesti no di saia. E per cominciare, ragazza, così m’aiuti Iddio, davvero! il mio amore per te è sano, senza crepa né difetto.
ROSALINE	Sans ‘sans’, ve ne prego.
BIRON	Ho ancora un residuo del vecchio male. Sopportami, sono malato. Me ne libererò a poco a poco. Piano, vediamo. Scrivete ‘Signore, abbi pietà di noi’ su quei tre. Sono infetti, il male sta nei loro cuori. Hanno la peste, e l’han presa dai vostri occhi. Questi signori sono visitati, voi non ne siete immuni; ché su di voi vedo i segni del Signore.
PRINCIPESSA	No, son immuni quelli che ci diedero questi segni.
BIRON	I nostri beni son confiscati. Non cercate di rovinarci.
ROSALINE	Non è così, ché come può esser vero che voi siate confiscati, essendo voi i supplicanti?
BIRON	Silenzio, ché non voglio aver a che fare con voi.
ROSALINE	E non l’avrete, se faccio come intendo.
BIRON	(ai signori) Parlate per voi. Il mio ingegno è finito.
RE	Insegnateci, dolce madama, per la nostra rozza trasgressione qualche bella scusa.
PRINCIPESSA	La più bella è la confessione. Non eravate qui or ora travestito?
RE	Madama, sì.
PRINCIPESSA	Ed eravate ben consigliato?
RE	Lo ero, bella madama.
PRINCIPESSA	Quando dunque eravate qui, che cosa sussurraste all’orecchio della vostra dama?
RE	Che più di tutto il mondo la stimavo.
PRINCIPESSA	Quando lo rivendicherà, la respingerete.
RE	Sul mio onore, no.
PRINCIPESSA	Zitto, zitto, trattenetevi. Rotto una volta il giuramento, non vi fate scrupolo di spergiurare.
RE	Disprezzatemi quando romperò questo mio giuramento.
PRINCIPESSA	Lo farò, e perciò mantenetelo. Rosaline, che cosa vi sussurrò il russo all’orecchio?
ROSALINE	Madama, giurò che mi teneva cara quanto la preziosa vista, e mi valutava più di questo mondo, aggiungendo inoltre che mi avrebbe sposata, o sarebbe morto mio amante.
PRINCIPESSA	Dio te ne dia gioia! Il nobile signore mantiene onoratissimamente la sua parola.
RE	Che intendete, madama? Per la mia vita, per la mia fede, non giurai mai a questa dama un simile giuramento.
ROSALINE	Per il cielo, lo faceste, e a confermarlo chiaramente mi deste questo. Ma riprendetevelo, signore.
RE	La mia fede e questo li diedi alla Principessa. La riconobbi da questo gioiello sulla manica.
PRINCIPESSA	Perdonate, signore, quel gioiello lo portava lei, e il signor Biron, lo ringrazio, è il mio caro. (A Biron) Ebbene, volete me, o di nuovo la vostra perla?
BIRON	Né l’una né l’altra. Rinuncio a entrambe. Vedo il trucco. Qui ci fu un accordo, sapendo in anticipo del nostro divertimento, per rovinarlo come una commedia di Natale. Qualche portaracconti, qualche piacione, qualche sciocco zanni, qualche borbottanotizie, qualche cavaliere da tavola, qualche Tizio che sorride fino a farsi le rughe, e conosce l’arte di far ridere la mia dama quando n’è disposta, ha raccontato prima i nostri intenti, e una volta svelati le dame scambiarono i pegni, e allora noi, seguendo i segni, corteggiammo solo il segno di lei. Ora, per aggiungere terrore al nostro spergiuro, siamo di nuovo spergiuri, per volontà e per errore. Press’a poco è così, (a Boyet) e non poteste voi prevenire il nostro spasso, per farci così sleali? Non conoscete voi il piede della mia dama a squadra, e non ridete sulla pupilla del suo occhio, e non state fra la sua schiena, signore, e il fuoco, reggendo un tagliere, scherzando allegramente? Faceste uscir di parte il nostro paggio. Andate, vi è concesso. Morite quando volete: una sottana sarà il vostro sudario. Mi guardate di sbieco, eh? Ecco un occhio che ferisce come una spada di piombo.
BOYET	Assai allegramente è stato corso questo bel maneggio, questa carriera.
BIRON	Ecco, subito si mette in giostra. Pace, ho finito.
(didascalia)	Entra Costard il villano
BIRON	Benvenuto, ingegno puro. Separi una bella zuffa.
COSTARD	Oh Signore, signore, vorrebbero sapere 485 se i tre Prodi debbano entrare o no.
BIRON	Come, non sono che tre?
COSTARD	No, signore, ma è vara bello, ché ognuno ne rappresenta tre.
BIRON	E tre volte tre fa nove.
COSTARD	Non è così, signore, salvo correzione, signore, spero che non sia così. Non potete farci passare per idioti, signore. Vi assicuro, signore, che sappiamo quel che sappiamo. Spero, signore, che tre volte tre, signore—
BIRON	non faccia nove?
COSTARD	Salvo correzione, signore, noi sappiamo a quanto ammonta.
BIRON	Per Giove, io ho sempre preso tre volte tre per nove.
COSTARD	Oh Signore, signore, sarebbe un peccato che vi guadagnaste da vivere facendo di conto, signore. BIRON Quanto fa?
COSTARD	Oh Signore, signore, le parti stesse, gli attori, signore, mostreranno a quanto ammonta. Quanto a me, io non devo, come si dice, che parfezionare un uomo in un pover’uomo, Pompione il Grande, signore.
BIRON	Sei tu uno dei Prodi?
COSTARD	Piacque loro giudicarmi degno di Pompeo il Grande. Quanto a me, non conosco il grado del Prode, ma devo starci per lui.
BIRON	Va’, di’ loro di prepararsi.
COSTARD	Ce la caveremo bene, signore. Ci metteremo cura.
(didascalia)	Esce
RE	Biron, ci faranno vergognare. Non lasciateli avvicinare.
BIRON	Siamo a prova di vergogna, mio signore, ed è buona politica avere uno spettacolo peggiore di quello del Re e della sua compagnia.
RE	Dico che non verranno.
PRINCIPESSA	No, mio buon signore, lasciate ch’io vi vinca ora. Piace più quello spasso che meno sa come farsi. Dove lo zelo si sforza d’appagare, e il contenuto
(didascalia)	muore nello zelo di ciò che presenta,
PRINCIPESSA	là la forma confusa fa somma forma nell’allegria, quando le grandi cose, faticando, periscono nel loro nascere.
BIRON	Giusta descrizione del nostro spasso, mio signore.
(didascalia)	Entra Armado il fanfarone
ARMADO	(al Re) Unto del Signore, imploro tanta spesa del tuo regale dolce fiato quanta basti a proferire un paio di parole.
(didascalia)	Armado e il Re parlano in disparte
PRINCIPESSA	Serve Dio quest’uomo?
BIRON	Perché lo chiedete?
PRINCIPESSA	Non parla come un uomo di fattura divina.
ARMADO	È tutt’uno, mio bel dolce monarca di miele, ché, io protesto, il maestro di scuola è oltremodo fantastico, troppo troppo vano, troppo troppo vano. Ma lo rimetteremo, come si dice, alla fortuna de la guerra. Vi auguro la pace dell’animo, regalissima coppia.
(didascalia)	Esce
RE	Qui pare che avremo una bella schiera di Prodi. Egli rappresenta Ettore di Troia; il villano, Pompeo il Grande; il curato della parrocchia, Alessandro; il paggio d’Armado, Ercole; il pedante, Giuda Maccabeo. E se questi quattro Prodi riescono nel primo spettacolo, questi quattro cambieranno abito e rappresenteranno gli altri cinque.
BIRON	Nel primo spettacolo ce ne sono cinque.
RE	V’ingannate, non è così.
BIRON	Il pedante, il fanfarone, il pretaccio da siepe, il folle e il ragazzo: tolto un tiro al ‘novum’, il mondo intero da capo non ne saprebbe scovare cinque simili, presi ciascuno nella sua vena.
RE	La nave è a vele spiegate, ed ecco che arriva a tutta forza.
(didascalia)	Entra Costard il villano nella parte di Pompeo
COSTARD	(nella parte di Pompeo) Io Pompeo sono—
BIRON	Menti, non sei lui.
COSTARD	(nella parte di Pompeo) Io Pompeo sono—
BOYET	Con testa di leopardo sul ginocchio.
BIRON	Ben detto, vecchio beffardo. Devo per forza far pace con te.
COSTARD	(nella parte di Pompeo) Io Pompeo sono, Pompeo soprannominato il Grosso.
DUMAINE	‘Il Grande’.
COSTARD	È ‘Grande’, signore— (Nella parte di Pompeo) Pompeo soprannominato il Grande, che spesso in campo con targa e scudo feci il mio nemico sudare, e viaggiando lungo questa costa qui son giunto per caso, e depongo le mie armi ai piedi di questa dolce fanciulla di Francia.— Se vostra signoria volesse dire ‘Grazie, Pompeo’, avrei finito.
(didascalia)	PRTNCESS Grandi grazie, gran Pompeo.
COSTARD	Non vale tanto, ma spero d’essere stato perfetto. Ho fatto un piccolo errore in ‘grande’.
BIRON	Il mio cappello contro mezzo soldo che Pompeo si dimostra il miglior Prode. Costard si mette in disparte.
(didascalia)	Entra Nathaniel il curato nella parte di Alessandro
NATHANIEL	(nella parte di Alessandro) Quando vissi nel mondo fui il comandante del mondo. A est, a ovest, a nord e a sud stesi la mia potenza conquistatrice. Il mio scudo dichiara chiaro ch’io sono Alisandro.
BOYET	Il vostro naso dice di no, non lo siete, ché sta troppo diritto.
BIRON	(a Boyet) Il vostro naso fiuta un ‘no’ in questo, cavaliere dall’olfatto delicatissimo.
PRINCIPESSA	Il conquistatore è sgomento. Proseguite, buon Alessandro.
NATHANIEL	(nella parte di Alessandro) Quando vissi nel mondo fui il comandante del mondo.
BOYET	Verissimo, è giusto, lo eravate, Alisandro.
BIRON	(a Costard) Pompeo il Grande.
COSTARD	Vostro servo, e Costard.
BIRON	Portate via il conquistatore, portate via Alisandro.
COSTARD	(a Nathaniel) Oh, signore, avete rovesciato Alisandro il Conquistatore. Per questo vi raschieranno via dall’arazzo dipinto. Il vostro leone che regge l’alabarda seduto sulla seggetta sarà dato ad Aiace. Sarà lui il nono Prode. Un conquistatore, e ha paura di parlare? Scappa per la vergogna, Alisandro.
(didascalia)	Esce Nathaniel il curato
COSTARD	Ecco, con vostra licenza, un uomo sciocco e mite, un galantuomo, vedete, e presto sconcertato. È un vicino meravigliosamente buono, in fede mia, e un ottimo giocatore di bocce, ma quanto ad Alisandro—ahimè, vedete com’è—un po’ sopra le sue forze. Ma stan venendo Prodi che diranno la loro in ben altro modo.
PRINCIPESSA	Fatti da parte, buon Pompeo.
(didascalia)	Entrano Oloferne il pedante nella parte di Giuda, e il ragazzo Mote nella parte d’Ercole
OLOFERNE	Il grande Ercole è rappresentato da questo monello, la cui clava uccise Cerbero, quel tricipite canus, e quando era un bimbo, un fanciullo, un gamberetto, così strangolò i serpenti in suis manus. Quoniam sembra in minorità, ergo io vengo con questa apologia. (A Mote) Mantieni un po’ di contegno nell’uscita, e svanisci.
(didascalia)	Esce Mote
OLOFERNE	(nella parte di Giuda) Giuda io sono—
DUMAINE	Un Giuda?
OLOFERNE	Non l’Iscariota, signore. (Nella parte di Giuda) Giuda io sono, detto Maccabeo.
DUMAINE	Giuda Maccabeo, tosato, fa semplicemente Giuda.
BIRON	Un traditore che bacia. Come si prova che sei Giuda?
OLOFERNE	(nella parte di Giuda) Giuda io sono—
DUMAINE	Tanta più vergogna per voi, Giuda.
OLOFERNE	Che intendete, signore?
BOYET	Far sì che Giuda s’impicchi.
OLOFERNE	Cominciate voi, signore. Siete il mio maggiore.
BIRON	Ben seguito—Giuda fu impiccato a un sambuco.
OLOFERNE	Non mi si farà perdere la faccia. 601
BIRON	Perché non hai faccia.
OLOFERNE	E questa che cos’è?
BOYET	Una testa di cetra.
DUMAINE	La capocchia d’uno spillone.
BIRON	Un teschio di morte in un anello.
LONGUEVILLE	La faccia d’una vecchia moneta romana, appena visibile.
BOYET	Il pomo della daga di Cesare.
DUMAINE	La faccia d’osso intagliata su una fiasca.
BIRON	La mezza guancia di san Giorgio in una spilla.
DUMAINE	Sì, e in una spilla di piombo.
BIRON	Sì, e portata sul berretto d’un cavadenti. E ora avanti, ché t’abbiamo dato faccia.
OLOFERNE	M’avete fatto perdere la faccia.
BIRON	Falso, t’abbiamo dato facce.
OLOFERNE	Ma le avete sfacciate tutte.
BIRON	Se tu fossi un leone, faremmo così.
BOYET	Perciò, poiché è un asino, lasciatelo andare. E dunque addio, dolce Giuda. Ma perché resti?
DUMAINE	Per l’ultima parte del suo nome.
BIRON	Per l’asino da attaccare al Giuda. Dateglielo. Giud-asino, via.
OLOFERNE	Questo non è generoso, non è gentile, non è umile.
BOYET	Un lume per monsieur Giuda. Si fa buio, potrebbe inciampare.
(didascalia)	Esce Oloferne
PRINCIPESSA	Ahimè, povero Maccabeo, come l’hanno aizzato!
(didascalia)	Entra Armado il fanfarone nella parte di Ettore
BIRON	Nascondi il capo, Achille: ecco Ettore in armi.
DUMAINE	Benché le mie beffe tornino a casa su di me, ora voglio stare allegro.
RE	Ettore non era che un troiano al confronto di costui.
BOYET	Ma è questo Ettore?
RE	Credo che Ettore non fosse così ben squadrato.
LONGUEVILLE	La sua gamba è troppo grossa per esser quella di Ettore.
DUMAINE	Più polpaccio, di certo.
BOYET	No, è meglio dotato nella parte sottile.
BIRON	Questo non può essere Ettore.
DUMAINE	È un dio, o un pittore, ché fa facce.
ARMADO	(nella parte di Ettore) L’armipotente Marte, delle lance l’onnipotente, diede a Ettore un dono—
DUMAINE	Una noce moscata dorata.
BIRON	Un limone.
LONGUEVILLE	Infilzato di chiodi di garofano.
DUMAINE	NO, fesso.
ARMADO	Silenzio! (Nella parte di Ettore) L’armipotente Marte, delle lance l’onnipotente, diede a Ettore un dono, all’erede d’Ilio, uomo di tal fiato che certo avrebbe combattuto, sì, da mattina a notte, fuori del suo padiglione. Io sono quel fiore—
DUMAINE	Quella menta.
LONGUEVILLE	Quell’aquilegia.
ARMADO	Dolce signor Longueville, tieni a freno la lingua.
LONGUEVILLE	Devo piuttosto darle briglia sciolta, ché corre contro Ettore.
DUMAINE	Sì, e Ettore è un levriero.
ARMADO	Il dolce guerriero è morto e imputridito. Dolci colombelle, non percotete le ossa dei sepolti. Quando respirava era un uomo. Ma proseguirò col mio congegno. (Alla Principessa) Dolce maestà, concedetemi il senso dell’udito. Biron si fa avanti
PRINCIPESSA	Parlate, prode Ettore, ne siamo assai dilettati.
ARMADO	Adoro la pantofola di vostra dolce grazia.
BOYET	L’ama a piede.
DUMAINE	Non può a canna.
ARMADO	(nella parte di Ettore) Questo Ettore superò di gran lunga Annibale.
(didascalia)
ARMADO	La parte se n’è andata.
COSTARD	Compare Ettore, se n’è andata, è a due mesi di cammino.
ARMADO	Che vuoi dire?
COSTARD	In fede mia, se non fate l’onesto troiano la povera ragazza è rovinata. È gravida. Il bambino si vanta già nella sua pancia. È vostro.
ARMADO	Mi infamonizzi tu fra i potentati? Tu morrai.
COSTARD	Allora Ettore sarà frustato per Jaquenetta ch’è gravida per opera sua, e impiccato per Pompeo ch’è morto per opera sua. 675
DUMAINE	Rarissimo Pompeo!
BOYET	Rinomato Pompeo!
BIRON	Più grande del grande—grande, grande, gran Pompeo, Pompeo l’Enorme.
DUMAINE	Ettore trema.
BIRON	Pompeo è commosso. Altre Ati, altre Ati—aizzateli, aizzateli!
DUMAINE	Ettore lo sfiderà.
BIRON	Sì, se non ha in corpo più sangue d’uomo di quanto ne cenerebbe una pulce.
ARMADO	Per il Polo Nord, io ti sfido.
COSTARD	Non combatterò con un palo, come un uomo del nord. Menerò fendenti, lo farò con la spada. Vi supplico, lasciatemi riprendere in prestito le mie armi.
DUMAINE	Largo ai Prodi incolleriti.
COSTARD	Lo farò in camicia.
DUMAINE	Risolutissimo Pompeo.
MOTE	(a parte, ad Armado) Padrone, lasciate che vi abbassi d’un’asola. Non vedete che Pompeo si sveste per il combattimento? Che intendete fare? Perderete la vostra reputazione.
ARMADO	Gentiluomini e soldati, perdonatemi. Non combatterò in camicia.
DUMAINE	Non potete rifiutare, Pompeo ha lanciato la sfida.
ARMADO	Dolci sangui, posso e voglio.
BIRON	Che ragione ne avete?
ARMADO	La nuda verità è che non ho camicia. Vado con la lana sulla pelle per penitenza.
(didascalia)	MOTE Vero, e gli fu imposto a Roma per mancanza di biancheria; da allora giurerei che non ne portò altra che uno strofinaccio di Jaquenetta, e quello lo porta sul cuore, come pegno.
(didascalia)	Entra un messo, monsieur Mercadé
ARMADO	MERCADÉ Dio vi salvi, madama.
PRINCIPESSA	Benvenuto, Mercadé, se non che interrompi la nostra allegria. MERCADÉ Mi dispiace, madama, ché la notizia che porto mi pesa sulla lingua. Il Re vostro padre—
PRINCIPESSA	Morto, sulla mia vita. MERCADÉ Proprio così. Il mio racconto è detto.
BIRON	Prodi, via. La scena comincia ad annuvolarsi.
ARMADO	Quanto a me, respiro fiato libero. Ho veduto il giorno del torto attraverso il piccolo foro della discrezione, e mi renderò giustizia da soldato.
(didascalia)	Escono i Prodi
RE	Come sta vostra maestà?
REGINA	Boyet, preparate. Partirò stanotte.
RE	Madama, non così: vi supplico, restate.
REGINA	Preparate, dico. Vi ringrazio, graziosi signori, di tutti i vostri bei sforzi, e vi prego, da un’anima appena rattristata, che vi degniate nella vostra ricca saggezza di scusare o celare la libera opposizione dei nostri spiriti. Se ci siamo comportate con troppa audacia nel conversare, la vostra cortesia ne fu colpevole. Addio, degno signore. Un cuore grave non porta lingua agile. Scusatemi se resto così al di sotto dei ringraziamenti per la mia grande richiesta ottenuta tanto facilmente.
RE	Le parti estreme del tempo estremamente foggiano ogni causa allo scopo della loro rapidità, e spesso al loro stesso scoccare decidono ciò che lungo processo non poté arbitrare. E benché la fronte in lutto della figlia vieti alla sorridente cortesia dell’amore la santa domanda che volentieri vorrebbe ottenere, tuttavia, poiché l’argomento dell’amore fu il primo a muoversi, non lasciate che la nube del dolore lo spinga via dal suo proposito, ché lamentare amici perduti non è di gran lunga così salutarmente profittevole quanto rallegrarsi d’amici appena trovati.
REGINA	Non vi comprendo. I miei dolori sono doppi.
BIRON	Parole oneste e semplici meglio penetrano l’orecchio del dolore, e da questi segni comprendete il Re. Per amor vostro abbiamo trascurato il tempo, giocato sleale coi nostri giuramenti. La vostra bellezza, signore, ci ha molto deformati, foggiando i nostri umori fino al fine opposto ai nostri intenti, e ciò che in noi è parso ridicolo— ché l’amore è pieno di sconvenienti impeti, tutto capriccioso come un fanciullo, saltellante e vano, formato dall’occhio e perciò simile all’occhio, pieno di strane sagome, d’abiti e di forme, variando di soggetto come l’occhio rotea a ogni vario oggetto nel suo sguardo; e questa presenza variopinta di leggero amore da noi indossata, se ai vostri occhi celesti ha sconvenuto ai nostri giuramenti e alla nostra gravità, quegli occhi celesti che guardano in queste colpe ci indussero a commetterle. Perciò, signore, essendo vostro il nostro amore, l’errore che l’amore fa è del pari vostro. Ci mostriamo falsi a noi stessi per essere una volta falsi e poi sempre veri verso quelle che fanno l’uno e l’altro—belle signore, voi. E quella stessa falsità, in sé peccato, così si purifica e si volge in grazia.
REGINA	Abbiamo ricevuto le vostre lettere piene d’amore, i vostri pegni, ambasciatori d’amore, e nel nostro verginale consiglio li valutammo come galanteria, piacevole burla e cortesia, come imbottitura e fodera del tempo. Ma più devote di così, nella nostra stima, non siamo state, e perciò accogliemmo i vostri amori alla loro stessa maniera, come un divertimento.
DUMAINE	Le nostre lettere, madama, mostravano ben più che burla.
LONGUEVILLE	E così i nostri sguardi.
ROSALINE	Non li interpretammo così.
RE	Ora, all’ultimo minuto dell’ora, concedeteci il vostro amore.
REGINA	Un tempo, mi pare, troppo breve per concludervi un patto senza fine. No, no, mio signore, vostra grazia è assai spergiura, piena di cara colpa; e perciò questo: se per il mio amore—benché non ve ne sia motivo— volete far qualcosa, questo farete per me: non mi fiderò del vostro giuramento, ma andate con prestezza a qualche eremo abbandonato e nudo, remoto da tutti i piaceri del mondo. Là restate finché i dodici segni celesti non abbiano compiuto il computo dell’anno. Se questa vita austera e insociabile non muta la vostra offerta fatta nel calore del sangue; se geli e digiuni, duro alloggio e vesti leggere non mordono i fiori vistosi del vostro amore, ma esso regge questa prova e dura come amore, allora, allo scadere dell’anno, venite a reclamarmi, reclamatemi per questi meriti, e, per questa palma vergine che ora bacia la tua, sarò tua; e fino a quel momento chiuderò la mia dolente persona in una casa di lutto, piovendo le lacrime del lamento per la memoria della morte di mio padre. Se questo rifiuti, le nostre mani si separino, nessuna delle due con diritto sul cuore dell’altra.
RE	Se questo, o più di questo, io rifiutassi, per blandire di riposo queste mie facoltà, la subitanea mano della morte mi chiuda l’occhio. Via, eremita, dunque. Il mio cuore è nel tuo petto. Parlano in disparte
DUMAINE	(a Catherine) Ma a me che cosa, amore mio? Ma a me che cosa? Una moglie?
CATHERINE	Una barba, buona salute e onestà. Con triplice amore vi auguro tutte e tre queste cose.
DUMAINE	Oh, devo dire ‘vi ringrazio, gentile moglie’?
CATHERINE	Non così, mio signore. Per dodici mesi e un giorno non baderò a parole di corteggiatori dal viso liscio. Venite quando il Re verrà dalla mia signora; allora, se avrò molto amore, ve ne darò un poco.
DUMAINE	Ti servirò leale e fedele fino allora.
CATHERINE	Ma non giurate, per non essere di nuovo spergiuro. Parlano in disparte
LONGUEVILLE	Che dice Maria?
MARIA	Alla fine dei dodici mesi cambierò la mia veste nera per un amico fedele.
LONGUEVILLE	Aspetterò con pazienza; ma il tempo è lungo.
MARIA	Tanto più simile a voi—pochi così lunghi son così giovani. Parlano in disparte
BIRON	(a Rosaline) Medita la mia dama? Signora, guardatemi. Guardate la finestra del mio cuore, il mio occhio, quale umile supplica attende là la vostra risposta. Imponetemi qualche servizio per il vostro amore.
ROSALINE	Spesso ho udito parlare di voi, mio signor Biron, prima di vedervi; e la larga lingua del mondo vi proclama uomo ripieno di beffe, pieno di paragoni e di scherni feritori, che voi eseguite su ogni condizione che cada in balìa della mercé del vostro ingegno. Per estirpare quest’assenzio dal vostro fertile cervello, e con ciò conquistarmi, se vi piace, senza di che non son da conquistare, per questo termine di dodici mesi, giorno per giorno, visiterete i malati senza parola e converserete con miseri gementi; e vostro compito sarà, con tutto il fiero sforzo del vostro ingegno, costringere a sorridere l’infermo dolorante.
BIRON	Muovere selvaggia risata nella gola della morte?— Non può essere, è impossibile. L’allegria non può muovere un’anima in agonia.
ROSALINE	Ebbene, quello è il modo di soffocare uno spirito beffardo, il cui potere nasce da quella facile grazia che uditori superficiali e ridanciani concedono ai folli. La fortuna d’una burla sta nell’orecchio di chi l’ascolta, mai nella lingua di chi la fa. Se dunque orecchi malati, assordati dal clamore dei loro cari gemiti, vorranno udire i vostri vani scherni, continuate pure, e vi prenderò con quel difetto in più. Ma se non vorranno, gettate via quello spirito, e vi troverò vuoto di quel difetto, assai lieta della vostra riforma.
BIRON	Dodici mesi? Bene, avvenga quel che deve avvenire: scherzerò dodici mesi in un ospedale.
REGINA	(al Re) Sì, dolce mio signore, e così prendo congedo.
RE	No, madama, vi accompagneremo per un tratto.
BIRON	Il nostro corteggiamento non finisce come una vecchia commedia. Gianni non ha la sua Gianna. La cortesia di queste dame avrebbe ben potuto fare del nostro spasso una commedia.
RE	Via, signore, ci mancano dodici mesi e un giorno, e poi finirà.
BIRON	È troppo lungo per una commedia.
(didascalia)	Entra Armado il fanfarone
ARMADO	(al Re) Dolce maestà, degnatevi di me.
REGINA	Non era quello Ettore?
DUMAINE	Il degno cavaliere di Troia.
ARMADO	Bacerò il tuo regale dito e prenderò congedo. Son votato: ho fatto voto a Jaquenetta di tenere l’aratro per il suo dolce amore per tre anni. Ma, stimatissima grandezza, volete udire il dialogo che i due uomini dotti hanno composto in lode del gufo e del cuculo? Doveva seguire alla fine del nostro spettacolo.
RE	Chiamateli fuori presto, lo faremo.
ARMADO	Olà, avvicinatevi!
(didascalia)	Entrano Oloferne, Nathaniel, Costard, Mote, Dull, Jaquenetta e altri
ARMADO	Questa parte è Hiems, l’inverno; questa Ver, la primavera; l’una sostenuta dal gufo, l’altra dal cuculo. Ver, comincia.
PRIMAVERA	(canta) Quando margherite screziate e violette azzurre, e billeri tutti bianco-argento, e bottoni d’oro di giallo colore dipingono i prati con diletto, allora il cuculo su ogni albero beffa gli uomini sposati, ché così canta: Cucù! Cucù, cucù—oh parola di paura, sgradita a orecchio maritato. Quando i pastori zufolano su cannucce d’avena, e le allegre allodole son gli orologi degli aratori; quando le tortore s’accoppiano, e le cornacchie e le taccole, e le fanciulle imbiancano le loro camicie d’estate, allora il cuculo su ogni albero beffa gli uomini sposati, ché così canta: Cucù! Cucù, cucù—oh parola di paura, sgradita a orecchio maritato.
INVERNO	(canta) Quando i ghiaccioli pendono lungo il muro, e Dick il pastore si soffia sulle unghie, e Tom porta ceppi nella sala, e il latte torna a casa gelato nel secchio; quando il sangue è morso dal gelo, e le vie son fangose, allora ogni notte canta il gufo dagli occhi fissi: Tu-uit, tu-uu!—nota allegra, mentre l’unta Giovanna rimesta la pentola. Quando forte forte il vento soffia, e la tosse copre la predica del parroco, e gli uccelli stanno covando nella neve, e il naso di Marianna appare rosso e screpolato; quando le mele cotte sfrigolano nella ciotola, allora ogni notte canta il gufo dagli occhi fissi: Tu-uit, tu-uu!—nota allegra, mentre l’unta Giovanna rimesta la pentola.
(didascalia)	ARMADO Le parole di Mercurio sono aspre dopo i canti di Apollo. Voi di là, noi di qua. Escono, da parti diverse
PASSI AGGIUNTIVI	A. I versi seguenti, che si trovano dopo 4.3.293 nel Primo In-quarto, rappresentano una versione non riveduta di parti del lungo discorso di Biron, 4.3.287-341. I primi sei versi costituiscono la base di 4.3.294-9; i tre successivi sono riveduti in 4.3.326-30; i quattro successivi in 4.3.300-2; gli ultimi nove sono meno direttamente collegati alla versione riveduta. E laddove avete fatto voto di studiare, signori, in ciò ciascuno di voi ha abiurato il proprio libro, potete ancora sognare, e scrutare, e guardarvi sopra? Ché quando avreste voi, mio signore, o voi, o voi, trovato il fondamento dell’eccellenza dello studio senza la bellezza d’un volto di donna? Dagli occhi delle donne io traggo questa dottrina. Essi sono il fondamento, i libri, le accademie donde sgorga il vero fuoco prometeico. Ebbene, lo sgobbare universale avvelena gli agili spiriti nelle arterie, come il moto e l’azione lungamente protratta stanca il nerboruto vigore del viandante. Ora, per non guardare il volto d’una donna avete in ciò abiurato l’uso degli occhi, e anche lo studio, causa del vostro voto. Ché dov’è al mondo un autore che insegni tanta bellezza quanta l’occhio d’una donna? Il sapere non è che un’aggiunta a noi stessi, e dove siamo noi, là è pure il nostro sapere. Dunque, quando vediamo noi stessi negli occhi delle dame con noi stessi, non vi vediamo del pari il nostro sapere? B. I due versi seguenti, pronunciati dalla Principessa e presenti dopo 5.2.130 nel Primo In-quarto, sembrano rappresentare una prima stesura di 5.2.131-2. Tieni, Rosaline. Questo pegno lo porterai tu, e allora il Re ti corteggerà come sua cara. C. I versi seguenti, presenti dopo 5.2.809 nel Primo In-quarto, rappresentano una stesura provvisoria di 5.2.824-41.
BIRON	E a me che cosa, amore mio? E a me che cosa?
ROSALINE	Anche voi dovete esser purgato. I vostri peccati son rancidi. Siete macchiato di colpe e di spergiuro. Perciò, se intendete ottenere il mio favore, dodici mesi passerete, senza mai riposare, cercando i letti stanchi dei malati.