A pleasant conceited comedie called, Loues labors lost As it vvas presented before her Highnes this last Christmas. Newly corrected and augmented by W. Shakespere.

Enter Ferdinand K. of Nauar, Berovvne, Longauill, and Dumaine.

Ferdinand.

LET Fame, that all hunt after in their lyues, Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes, And then grace vs, in the disgrace of death: When spight of cormorant deuouring Time, Then deuour of this present breath may buy: That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge, And make vs heires of all eternitie. Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are, That warre agaynst your owne affections, And the hudge armie of the worldes desires. Our late edict shall strongly stand in force, Nauar shall be the wonder of the worlde. Our Court shalbe a lytlle Achademe, Still and contemplatyue in lyuing art. You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill, Haue sworne for three yeeres tearme, to liue with me: My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes That are recorded in this sedule here. Your othes are past, and now subscribe your names: That his owne hand may strike his honour downe, That violates the smallest branch herein, If you are armd to do, as sworne to do, Subscribe to your deepe othes, and keepe it to.

Longauill.

I am resolued, tis but a thee yeeres fast: The minde shall banquet, though the body pine, Fat paunches haue leane pates: and daynty bits Make rich the ribbes, but bancrout quite the wits.

Dumaine.

My louing Lord, Dumaine is mortefied, The grosser manner of these worldes delyghts: He throwes vppon the grosse worlds baler slaues

To loue, to wealth, to pome▪ I pine and die, With all these lyuing in Philosophie▪

Berowne.

I can but say their protestation ouer, So much deare Liedge, I haue already sworne, That is, to lyue and study heere three yeeres. But there are other strickt obseruances: As not to see a woman in that terme, Which I hope well is not enrolled there. And one day in a weeke to touch no foode: And but one meale on euery day beside: The which I hope is not enrolled there. And then to sleepe but three houres in the nyght, And not be seene to wincke of all the day. When I was wont to thinke no harme all nyght, And make a darke nyght too of halfe the day: Which I hope well is not enrolled there, O these are barraine taskes, too hard to keepe, Not to see Ladyes, study, fast, not sleepe.

Ferd.

Your othe is past, to passe away from these.

Berow.

Let me say no my liedge, and yf you please, I onely swore to study with your grace, And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space.

Longa.

You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest.

Bero.

By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest. What is the ende of study, let me know?

Ferd.

Why that to know which else we should not know.

Ber.

Things hid & ••ard (you meane) from cammon sense.

Ferd.

I, that is studies god-like recompence.

Bero.

Com'on then, I will sweare to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus, to study where I well may dine, When I to fast expressely am forbid. Or studie where to meete some Mistris fine. When Mistresses from common sense are hid. Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oth, Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth. If studies gaine be thus, and this be so, Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know,

Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no.

Ferd.

These be the stopps that hinder studie quit, And traine our intelects to vaine delight.

Bero.

Why? all delightes are vaine, but that most vaine Which with payne purchas'd, doth inherite payne, As paynefully to poare vpon a Booke, To seeke the lyght of trueth, while trueth the whyle Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke: Light seeking light, doth light of light beguyle: So ere you finde where light in darknes lyes, Your light growes darke by loosing of your eyes. Studie me how to please the eye in deede, By fixing it vppon a fayrer eye, Who dazling so, that eye shalbe his heed, And giue him light that it was blinded by. Studie is lyke the heauens glorious Sunne, That will not be deepe searcht with sawcie lookes: Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne, Saue base aucthoritie from others Bookes. These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights, That giue a name to euery fixed Starre, Haue no more profite of their shyning nights, Then those that walke and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame: And euery Godfather can giue a name.

Ferd.

How well hees read to reason against reading.

Dum.

Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.

Lon.

He weedes the corne & still lets grow the weeding.

Ber.

The Spring is neare when greene geese are a bree∣ding.

Duma.

How followes that?

Ber.

Fit in his place and tyme.

Duma.

In reason nothing.

Bero.

Something then in rime.

Ferd.

Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost, That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.

Bero.

Well, say I am, why should proude Sommer boast, Before the Birdes haue any cause to sing? Why should I ioy in any abhortiue byrth?

At Christmas I no more desire a Rose, Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes: But like of each thing that in season growes. So you to studie now it is too late, Clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the little gate.

Ferd.

Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue.

Bero.

No my good Lord, I haue sworne to stay with you. And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more Then for that Angell knowledge you can say, Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne, And bide the pennance of each three yeeres day. Giue me the paper, let me reade the same, And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name.

Fer.

How well this yeelding rescewes thee from shame.

Ber.

Item, That no woman shall come within a myle of my Court. Hath this bin proclaymed?

Long.

Foure dayes ago.

Ber.

Lets see the penaltie▪ On payne of loosing her tung. Who deuis'd this penaltie?

Long.

Marrie that did I.

Bero.

Sweete Lord and why?

Long.

To fright them hence with that dread penaltie. A dangerous law against gentletie. Item▪ Yf any man be seene to talke with a woman within the tearme of three yeeres▪ he shall indure such publibue shame as the rest of the Court can possible deuise.

Ber.

This Article my liedge your selfe must breake, For well you know here comes in Embassaie, The French kinges daughter with your selfe to speake: A Maide of grace and complet maiestie, About surrender vp of Aquitaine, To her decrepit, sicke, and bedred Father. Therefore this Article is made in vaine, Or vainely comes th' admired Princesse hither.

Ferd.

What say you Lordes? why, this was quite forgot.

Ber.

So Studie euermore is ouershot, While it doth studie to haue what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should:

And when it hath the thing it hunteth most▪ Tis won as townes with fire, so won so lost.

Fer.

We must of force dispence with this Decree, Shee must lie heere on meere necessitie.

Ber.

Necessitie will make vs all forsworne Three thousand times within this three yeeres space: For euery man with his affectes is borne, Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace. If I breake fayth, this word shall speake for me, I am forsworne on meere necessitie. So to the Lawes at large I write my name, And he that breakes them in the least degree, Standes in attainder of eternall shame. Suggestions are to other as to me▪ But I beleeue although I seeme so loth, I am the last that will last keepe his oth. But is there no quicke recreation graunted?

Ferd.

I that there is, our Court you know is haunted With a refined trauailer of Spaine, A man in all the worldes new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his braine: On who the musique of his owne vaine tongue Doth rauish like inchaunting harmonie: A man of complements whom right and wrong Haue chose as vmpier of their mutenie. This childe of Fancie that Armado hight, For interim to our studies shall relate, In high borne wordes the worth of many a Knight: From tawnie Spaine lost in the worldes debate. How you delight my Lords I know not I, But I protest I loue to heare him lie, And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie.

Bero.

Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fier new wordes, Fashions owne knight.

Lon.

Costard the swaine and he, shalbe our sport, And so to studie th••ee yeeres is but short.

Enter a Constable with Costard with a letter.

Constab.

Which is the Dukes owne person?

Ber.

This fellow, What would'st?

Const.

I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am his graces Farborough: But I would see his owne person in flesh and blood.

Ber.

This is he.

Const.

Signeour Arme Arme commendes you: Ther's villanie abrod, this letter will tell you more▪

Clowne.

Sir the Contempls thereof are as touching me.

Fer.

A letter from the magnifisent Armado.

Bero.

How low so euer the matter, I hope in God for high word••••▪

Lon.

A high hope for a low heauen God grant vs patience

Ber.

To heare, or forbeare hearing▪

Lon.

To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderatly, or to forbeare both.

Bero.

Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to clime in the merrines.

Clow.

The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta: The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.

Bero.

In what manner?

Clow.

In manner and forme folowing sir all those three. I was seene with her in the Manner house, sitting with he•• vppon the Forme, and taken following her into the Park••r which put togeather, is in manner and forme following. Now sir for the manner, It is the manner of a man to spe••ke to a woman, for the forme in some forme.

Ber.

For the following sir.

Clow.

As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right.

Ferd.

Will you heare this Letter with attention?

Bero.

As we would heare an Oracle.

Clow.

Such is the sinplicitie of man to harken after the flesh▪

Ferd

GReat Deputie the welkis Vizgerent, and sole dominatur of Nauar, my soules earthes God, and bodies fostring patrone:

Cost.

Not a word•• of Costard yet.

Ferd.

So it is

Cost.

It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true: but so.

Ferd.

Peace.

Clow.

Be to me, and euerie man that dares not fight.

Ferd.

No wordes.

Clow.

Of other mens secrets I beseech you.

Ferd.

So it is besedged with sable coloured melancholie, I did commende the blacke oppressing humour to the most holsome phisicke of thy health-geuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When Beastes most grase, Birdes best peck▪ and Men sit downe to that nourishment which is called Supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped Thy Park. Then for the place Where? where I meane, I did incounter that ob∣scene & most propostrous euent that draweth frō my snowhite pen the ebon coloured Incke, which here thou viewest, beholdest, suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east & by East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth, (Clowne. Mee?) that vnlettered smal knowing soule, (Clow. Mee?) that shallow vassall (Clown. Still mee.) which as I remember, hight Costard, (Clow. O mee) sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaymed Edict and continen•• Cannon: Which with, ô with, but with this I passion to say wherewith:

Clo.

With a Wench.

Ferd.

With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy more sweete vnderstanding a Woman: him, I (as my euer esteemed duetie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue the m••••••e of pu∣nishment by thy sweete Graces Gfficer Anthonie Dull, a man of good reput, carriage b••aring, and estimation.

Antho.

Me ant shall please you? I am Anthony Dull.

Ferd.

For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called) vvhich I apprehended vvith the aforesayd Svvaine, I keepe h••r as a vessell of thy Lavves furie, and shall at the least of thy svveete notice, bring h••r to tryall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and hartburning heate of duetie.

Don Adriano de Armado.

Boy.

Which the base vulgar do call three.

Arma.

True.

Boy.

Why sir is this such a peece of studie? Now heere is three studied ere yele thrice wincke: and how easie it is to put yeeres to the worde three, and studie three yeeres in two wordes, the dauncing Horse will tell you.

Arm.

A most fine Figure.

Boy.

To proue you a Cypher.

Arm.

I will hereupon confesse I am in loue: and as it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a base wench. If drawing my Sword against the humor of affection, would deliuer me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome him to anie French Courtier for a new deuisde cu••sie. I thinke scorne to sigh, mee thinks I should outsweare Cupid. Comfort mee Boy, What great men haue bin in loue?

Boy.

Hercules Maister.

Arm.

Most sweete Hercules: more authoritie deare Boy, name more; and sweete my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Boy.

Sampson Maister, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for he carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter: and he was in loue.

Arm.

O wel knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson; I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons loue my deare Moth?

Boy.

A Woman, Maister.

Arm.

Of what complexion?

Boy.

Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of the foure.

Arm.

Tell me precisely of what complexion?

Boy.

Of the sea-water Greene sir.

Arm.

Is that one of the foure complexions?

Boy.

As I haue read sir, and the best of them too.

Arm.

Greene in deede is the colour of Louers: but to haue a loue of that colour, mee thinkes Sampson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit.

Boy.

It was so sir▪ for she had a greene wit.

Arm.

My loue is most immaculate white and red.

Boy.

Most maculate thoughts Maister, are maskt vnder such colours.

Ar.

Define, define, well educated infant.

Boy.

My fathers wit, and my mothers tongue assist me.

Ar.

Sweet inuocation of a child, most pretty & pathetical.

Boy.

Yf she be made of white and red, Her faultes will nere be knowne: For blush-in cheekes by faultes are bred, And feares by pale white showne: Then if she feare, or be to blame, By this you shall not know, Eor still her cheeke•• possesse the same, Which natiue she doth owe A dangerous rime maister against the reason of white & red.

Ar.

Is there not a Ballet Boy, of the King & the Begger?

Boy.

The worlde was very guiltie of such a Ballet some three ages since, but I thinke now tis not to be found: or if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the tune.

Ar.

I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I may example my digression by some mightie presedent. Boy, I do loue, that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rational hinde Costard: she deserues well.

Boy.

To be whipt: and yet a better loue then my maister.

Ar.

Sing Boy, My spirit growes heauie in loue.

Boy.

And thats great maruaile, louing a light Wench.

Ar.

I say sing.

Boy.

Forbeare till this companie be past.

Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.

Constab.

Sir, the Dukes pleasure is that you keepe Costard safe, and you must suffer him to take no delight, nor no pe∣nance, but a'must fast three dayes a weeke: for this Damsell I must keepe her at the Parke, she is alowde for the Day womand. Fare you well.

Ar.

I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide.

Maide.

M••n.

Ar.

I will visit thee at the Lodge.

Maid.

Thats hereby.

Ar.

I know where it is situate.

Ma.

Lord how wise you are.

Ar.

I will tell thee wonders.

Ma.

With that face.

Ar.

I loue thee.

Ma.

So I heard you say.

Ar.

And so farewell.

Ma.

Faire weather after you.

Clo.

Come Iaquenetta, away.

Exeunt.

Ar.

Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.

Clo.

Well sir I hope when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomacke.

Ar.

Thou shalt be heauely punished.

Clo.

I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they are but lightly rewarded.

Ar.

Take away this villaine, shut him vp.

Boy.

Come you transgressing slaue, away.

Clo.

Let me not be pent vp sir, I will fast being loose.

Boy.

No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison.

Clo.

Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation that I haue seene, some shall see.

Boy.

What shall some see?

Clo.

Nay nothing M. Moth, but what they looke vppon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their wordes, and therfore I will say nothing: I thanke God I haue as litle pa∣tience as an other man, & therfore I can be quiet.

Exit.

Arm.

I do affect the verie ground (which is base) where her shoo (which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworne (which is a great argument of falsehood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which is falsely attempted? Loue is a familiar; Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill angel but Loue, yet was Sampson so temp∣ted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupids But shaft is too hard for Hercules Clubb, and therefore too much oddes for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue

my turne: the Passado he respects not, the Duella he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to sub∣due men. Adue Valoure, rust Rapier, be still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea he loueth. Assist me some extempo∣rall God of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne Sonnet▪ Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

Exit.

Enter the Princesse of Fraunce, with three attending Ladies and three Lordes.

Boyet.

Now Maddame summon vp your dearest spirrits, Cosider who the King your father sendes: To whom he sendes, and whats his Embassie. Your selfe, helde precious in the worldes esteeme, To parlee with the sole inheritoure Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchles Nauar, the plea of no lesse weight, Then Aquitaine a Dowrie for a Queene. Be now as prodigall of all Deare grace, As Nature was in making Graces deare, When she did starue the generall world beside, And prodigally gaue them all to you.

Queene.

Good L. Boyet, my beautie though but meane, Needes not the painted florish of your prayse: Beautie is bought by iudgement of the eye, Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues: I am lesse proude to heare you tell my worth, Then you much willing to be counted wise, In spending your Wit in the prayse of mine. But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet, You are not ignorant all telling fame Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a Vow, Till painefull studie shall outweare three yeeres, No Woman may approch his silent Court: Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe Bold of your worthines, we single you,

As our best mouing faire soliciter: Tell him, the Daughter of the King of France On serious busines crauing quicke dispatch, Importuous personall conference with his grace. Haste, signifie so much while we attende, Like humble visage Suters his high will.

Boy.

Proud of imployment, willingly I go.

Exit Boy.

Prince.

All pride is willing pride, and yours is s••t Who are the Votaries my louing Lordes, that are vowfel∣lowes with this vertuous Duke?

Lor.

Longauill is one.

Princ.

Know you the man?

1. Lady.

I know him Maddame at a marriage feast, Betweene L. Perigort and the bewtious heire Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized. In Normandie saw I this Longauill, A man of soueraigne peerelsle he is esteemd: Well fitted in artes, glorious in armes: Nothing becoms him ill that he would well. The onely soyle of his fayre vertues glose, If vertues glose will staine with any soyle, Is a sharpe Wit matcht with too blunt a Will: Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wils, It should none spare, that come within his power.

Prin.

Some merrie mocking Lord belike, ist so?

Lad.

They say so most, that most his humors know.

Prin.

Such short liued wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?

2. Lad.

The young Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth, Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued, Most power to do most harme, least knowing ill: For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace though he had no wit▪ I saw him at the Duke Alanso••s once, And much too little of that good I saw, Is my report to his great worthin••s.

3. Lad.

An other of these Su••dentes at that time, Was there with him, if I haue heard a trueth.

Berowne they call him, but a merrier man, Within the limit of becomming mirth, I neuer spent an houres talke withall. His eye begets occasion for his wit, For euery obiect that the one doth catch, The other turnes to a mirth-moouing iest. Which his fayre tongue (conceites expositer) Deliuers in such apt and gracious wordes, That aged eares play treuant at his tales. And younger hearinges are quite rauished. So sweete and voluble is his discourse.

Prin.

God blesse my Ladyes, are they all in loue? That euery one her owne hath garnished, With such bedecking ornaments of praise.

Lord.

Heere comes Boyet.

Enter Boyet.

Prin.

Now, What admittance Lord?

Boyet.

Nauar had notice of your faire approch, And he and his compettitours in oth, Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt, He rather meanes to lodge you in the feelde, Like one that comes heere to besiedge his Court, Then seeke a dispensation for his oth: To let you enter his vnpeeled house.

Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, & Berowne.

Bo.

Heere comes Nauar.

Nauar.

Faire Princesse, Welcome to the court of Nauar.

Prin.

Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the wide fieldes too base to be mine.

Nau.

You shalbe welcome Madame to my Court.

Prin.

I wilbe welcome then, Conduct me thither.

Nau.

Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oth,

Prin.

Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'le be forsworne.

Nau.

Not for the worlde faire Madame, by my will.

Prin.

Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els.

Nau.

Your Ladishyp is ignoraunt what it is.

Prin,

Were my Lord so, his ignoraunce were wise▪ Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance. I heare your grace hath sworne out Houskeeping: Tis deadlie sinne to keepe that oath my Lord, And sin to breake it: but pardon me, I am too sodain•• bold, To teach a teacher ill beseemeth mee. Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming, And sodainelie resolue mee in my suite.

Nau.

Madame I will, if sodainelie I may.

Prin.

You will the sooner that I were awaie, For youle proue periurde if you make me staie.

Berowne.

Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Kather.

Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Ber.

I know you did.

Kath.

How needles was it then to aske the question?

Ber.

You must not be so quicke.

Kath.

Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.

Ber.

Your wit's too hot, it speedes too fast, twill tire.

Kath.

Not till it leaue the rider in the mire.

Ber.

What time a day?

Kath.

The houre that fooles should aske.

Ber.

Now faire befall your maske.

Kath.

Faire fall the face it couers.

Ber.

And send you manie louers.

Kath.

Amen, so you be none.

Ber.

Nay then will I be gon.

Ferd.

Madame, your father heere doth intimate, The payment of a hundred thousand Crownes, Being but the one halfe of, of an intire summe, Disbursed by my father in his warres. But say that he, or we, as neither haue Receiud that summe, yet there remaines vnpaide A hundred thousand more, in suretie of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs, Although not valued to the monies worth. If then the King your father will restore, But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied, We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,

And holde faire faiendship with his Maiestie, But that it seemes he little purposeth: For here he doth p••maund to haue repaide, A hundred thousand Crownes, and not demaunds One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, To haue his title liue in Aquitaine. Which we much rather had depart withall, And haue the money by our father lent, Then Aquitaine, so guelded as it is. Deare Princesse were not his requestes so farr From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make A yeelding gainst some reason in my brest, And go well satisfied to France againe.

Prin.

You do the King my fathe•• too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so vnseeming to confesse receit, Of that which hath so faithfully been paide.

Ferd.

I do protest I neuer heard of it: And if you proue it, Il•• repay it backe, Or yeelde vp Aquitaine.

Princ.

We arrest your worde. Boyet you can produce acquittances, For such a summe from spciall officers, Of Charles his father.

Ferd.

Satisfie mee so.

Boyet.

So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound: To morrow you shall haue a sight of them.

Ferd.

It shall suff••se me; at which enteruiew, All liberall reason I will yeelde vnto. M••ane time receiue such welcome at my hand, As honor (without breach of honor) may, Make tender of to thy tru•• worthines. You may not come (faire Princesse) within my gat••s, But here without you shalbe so receiude, As you shall deeme your selfe lodgd in my har••▪ Though so denide fair•• harbour in my house, Your owne good thoughtes excuse me, and farew••••••

To morrow shall we visite you againe.

Pri.

Sweete health and faire desires consort your grace.

Na.

Thy owne wish wish I thee in euery place.

Exit.

Ber.

Ladie I will commend you to my none hart.

Ros.

Pray you, do my commendations, I would be glad to see it.

Ber.

I would you heard it grone.

Ros.

Is the foole sicke.

Ber.

Sicke at the hart.

Ros.

Alacke, let it blood.

Bar.

Would that do it good?

Ros.

My Phisicke saies I.

Ber.

Will you prickt with your eye.

Ros.

No poynt, with my knife.

Ber.

Now God saue thy life.

Ros.

And yours from long liuing.

Ber.

I cannot stay thankes-giuing.

Exit.

Enter Dumaine.

Dum.

Sir, I pray you a word, What Ladie is that same?

Boyet.

The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name.

Dum.

A gallant Lady Mounsir, fare you wel.

Exit.

Longauill.

I beseech you a word, What is she in the white?

Boyet.

A woman sometimes, and you saw her in the light.

Lon.

Perchance light in the light. I desire her name?

Bo

She hath but one for her selfe, to desire that were a shame.

Lon.

Pray you sir, Whose daughter?

Bo.

Her mothers, I haue heard.

Lon.

Gods blessing on your beard.

Bo.

Good sir be not offended, She is an heire of Falcon-bridge.

Lon.

Nay my coller is ended. She is a most sweet Ladie.

Bo

Not vnlike sir, that may be.

Exit Longauil.

Enter Berowne.

Bero.

Whats her name in the capp?

Boy.

Katherin by good happ.

Ber,

Is she wedded or no?

Boy.

To her will sir, or so.

Ber.

O you are welcome sir, adew.

Boy.

Farewell to me sir, and welcome to you.

Exit Bero.

Lady M••ria.

That last is Berowne, the merrie madcap L. Not a word with him but a iest.

Boy.

And euery iest but a word.

Prin.

It was well done of you to take him at his word.

Boy.

I was as willing to grapple as he was to boord.

Lady Ka.

Two hot Sheepes marie.

Bo.

And wherefore not Shipps? No Sheepe (sweete Lambe) vnlesse we feede on your lippes.

La.

You Sheepe and I pasture: shall that finish the iest▪

Bo.

So you graunt pasture for me.

Lad.

Not so gentle Beast. My lippes are no Common, though seuerall they be.

Bo.

Belonging to whom?

La.

To my fortunes and mee.

Prin.

Good witts will be iangling, but gentles agree, This ciuill warre of wittes were much better vsed On Nauar and his Bookmen, for heere tis abused.

Bo.

If my obseruation (which very seldome lyes By the hartes still rethoricke, disclosed with eyes. Deceaue me not now, Nauar is infected.

Prin.

With what?

Bo.

With that which we Louers intitle Affected.

Prin.

Your reason.

Bo.

Why all his behauiours did make their retire, To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desier. His hart like an Agot with your print impressed, Proud with his forme, in his eye pride expressed. His tongue all impacient to speake and not see, Did stumble with haste in his ey-sight to bee, All sences to that sence did make their repaire, To feele only looking on fairest of faire: Mee thought all his senses were lokt in his eye, As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to buy. Who tendring their owne worth from where they were glast, Did poynt you to buy them along as you past, His faces owne margent did coate such amazes, That all eyes saw his eyes inchaunted with gazes. Ile giue you Aquitai••e, and all that is his,

And you giue him for my sake but one louing kisse.

Prin.

Come, to our Pauilion, Boyet is disposde.

Bo.

But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclosd. I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Lad.

Thou art an old Loue-monger, & speakest skilfully.

Lad. 2.

He is Cupids Graundfather, and learnes newes of him.

Lad. 3.

Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.

Boy.

Do you heare my mad Wenches?

Lad.

No.

Boy.

What then, do you see?

Lad.

I, our way to be gone.

Boy.

You are too hard for mee.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Braggart and his Boy.

Bra.

Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing.

Boy.

Concolinel.

Brag.

Sweete Ayer, go tendernes of yeeres, take this Key, giue enlargement to the Swaine, bring him festinatly hither, I must imploy him in a letter to my loue.

Boy.

Maister, will you win your loue with a french braule?

Brag.

How meanest thou? brawling in French.

Boy.

No my compl••t Maister, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues ende, canarie to it with your feete, humour it with turning vp your eylids, sigh a note and sing a note som∣time through the throate, if you swallowed loue with sing∣ing loue sometime through: nose as if you snuff•• vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouse like o••e the shop of your eyes, with your armes crost on your thinbellies doblet like a Rabbet on a spit, or your handes in your pocket like •• man after the ol••e painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a s••ip and away: these are complementes, these are humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be be∣traied without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these.

Brag.

How hast thou purchased this experience?

Boy.

By my penne of obser••••tio••.

Brag.

But o but o.

Boy.

The Hobbie-horse is forg••t.

Brag.

Calst thou my loue Hobbi-horse.

Boy.

No Maister, the Hobbi-horse is but a ••olt, and your loue perhaps, a hacknie: But haue you forgot your Loue?

Brag.

Almost I had.

Boy.

Necligent student, learne her by hart.

Brag.

By hart, and in hart boy.

Boy.

And out of hart Maister: all those three I will proue.

Brag.

What wilt thou proue?

Boy.

A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the instan••▪ by hart you loue her, because your hart cannot come by her: in hart you loue her, because your hart is in loue with her: and out of hart you loue h••r▪ being out of hart that you cannot enioy her.

Brag.

I am all these three.

Boy.

And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.

Brag.

Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie me a letter.

Boy.

A message well simpa••••isd, a Horse to be embassa∣doure for an Asse.

Brag.

Ha ha, What saiest thou?

Boy.

Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse, for he is verie slow gated: but I go.

Brag.

The way is but short, away.

Boy.

As swift as Lead sir.

Brag.

The meaning prettie ingenius, is not Lead a mettal heauie, dull, and slow?

Boy.

Minnime honest Maister, or rather Maister no.

Brag.

I say Lead is slow.

Boy.

You are too swift sir to say so. Is that Lead slow which is fierd from a Gunne▪

Brag.

Sweete smoke of Rhetorike▪ He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet thats hee•• I shoote thee at the Swaine.

Boy.

Thump then, and I fl••e.

Brag.

A most acute Iuuenall, volable and free of grace, By thy fauour sweete Welkin, I must sigh in thy face: Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place. My Herald is returnd.

Enter Page and Clowne.

Pag.

A wonder Maister, Heers a Costard broken in a shin.

Ar.

Some enigma, some riddle, ••ome, thy Lenuoy begin.

Clo.

No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. O sir, Plantan, a pline Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan.

Ar.

By vertue thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes me to redi∣culous smyling: O pardone me my starres, doth the incon∣siderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy for a salue?

Pag.

Do the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a salue?

A.

No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine, Some obscure presedence that hath tofor•• bin faine. I will example it. The Fox, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee, Were still at oddes being but three. Ther's the morrall: Now the lenuoy.

Pag.

I will adde the lenuoy, say the morrall againe.

Ar.

The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee, Were still at oddes, being but three.

Pag.

Vntill the Goose came out of doore, And staied the oddes by adding foure. Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with my lenuoy. The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee, Were still at oddes, being but three.

Arm.

Vntill the Goose came out of doore, Staying the oddes by adding foure.

Pag.

A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: woulde you desire more?

Clo.

The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat. Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loo••••▪

Let me see a fat Lenuoy, •• that•• 〈…〉〈…〉

Ar.

Come hithe••, come 〈…〉〈…〉 argumen•• begin▪

Boy.

By saying that a Cost••••d was broken 〈…〉〈…〉 Then cald you for the Lenuoy.

Clow.

True, and I for a Plantan, thus came your argument in, Then the boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bou••••, and he ended the market.

Ar.

But tel me, How was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Pag.

I will tell you sencibly.

Clow.

Thou hast no feeling of it M••••h, I will speake thee I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin.

Arm.

We will talke no more of this matter.

Clow.

Till there be m•••••• matter in the shin.

Arm.

Sirra Costard, I will infranchise then.

Clow.

O marrie me to one ••rancis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goose in this.

Arm.

By my sweete soule, I mean••▪ s••tting thee as libertiy. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wen emu••••ed, restrained, captiuated, bound.

Clown.

True, true, and now you wilbe my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm.

I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from di••tance, and in lewe thereof, impos••••n thee nothing but th•••• Bear•• this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta where is remu∣neration, for the best w••••d of mine honour, it rewarding my dependants. M••••h, follow.

Pag.

Like the sequ••ll I, Sign•••••• Costard adew.

Exit.

Clow.

My sweete ou•••• of mans flesh, my in-co•••• Ie•••• Now will I looke to his remuneration. Remuneration, O that's the latine word for three▪ fa••thing••▪ Three-farthings remu••ation where the prier of this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i. d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration•• Why? 〈…〉〈…〉 re∣muneration: Why▪ it is a f••yr••r name of 〈…〉〈…〉 I will neuer buy and 〈…〉〈…〉

〈…〉〈…〉

Ber.

O my good 〈…〉〈…〉

Clow.

Pray you 〈…〉〈…〉

a man buy for a remuneration?

Ber.

O what is a remuneration?

Cost.

Marie sir, halfe pennie farthing.

Ber.

O, why then three farthing worth of Silke.

Cost.

I thanke your worship, God be wy you.

Ber.

O stay slaue, I must employ thee. As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue, Do one thing for me that I shall in••reate.

Clow.

When would you haue it done sir?

Ber.

O this after-noone.

Clow.

Well, I will do it sir: Fare you well▪

Ber.

O thou knowest not what it is.

Clow.

I shall know sir when I haue done it.

Ber.

Why villaine, thou must know first.

Clow.

I will come to your worship to morrow morning.

Ber.

It must be done this after noone, Harke slaue, it is but this: The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke, And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie: When tongues speake sweetely, then they name her name, And Rosalin•• they call her, aske for her: And to her white hand see thou do commend This seald-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe.

Clow.

Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneratiō, a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon. I will do it sir in prinn gardon remuneration.

Exit.

Ber.

O and I forsoth in loue, I that haue been loues whip? A verie Bedell to a humerous sigh, a Crietick, nay a night-watch Constable. A domineering pedant ore the Boy, then whom no mor∣tall so magnificent. This wimpled whyning purblind wayward Boy, This signior Iunios gyant dwa••ffe, dan Cupid, Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes, Th' annoynted soueraigne of sighes and groones: Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents: Dread Prince of Placcat••, King of Codpeece••▪

Sole Emperator and great generall Of trotting Parrators (O my litle hart.) And I to be a Corporall of his fielde, And weare his coloures like a Tumblers hoope. What▪ I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife, A woman that is like a Iermane Cloake, Still a repairing: euer out of frame, And neuer going a right, being a Watch: But being watcht, that it may still go right. Nay to be periurde, which is worst of all: And among three to loue the worst of all, A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow, With two pitch balles stucke in her face for eyes. I and by heauen, one that will do the deede, Though Argus were her eunuch and her garde. 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 almightie dreadfull little might. Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone, Some men must loue my Ladie, and some Ione.

Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladyes, and her Lordes

Quee.

Was that the king that spurd his horse so hard, Against the steepe vp rising of the hill?

Forr.

I know not, but I thinke it was not he.

Quee.

Who ere a was, a showd a mounting minde. Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch, Ore Saterday we will returne to Fraunce. Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush That we must stand and play the murtherer in?

Forr.

Heereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A Stand where you may make the fairest shoote.

Quee.

I thanke my Beautie, I am faire that shoote▪ And thereupon thou speakst the fairest shoote.

Forr.

Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so.

Quee.

What, what? First praise mee, and againe say no. O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe

For.

Yes Madam faire.

Quee.

Nay, neuer paint me now, Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Heere (good my glasse) take this for telling trew: Faire payment for foule wordes, is more then dew.

For.

No thing but faire is that which you inherrit.

Quee.

See see, my beautie wilbe sau'd by merrit. O heresy in faire, fit for these dayes, A giuing hand, though fowle, shall haue faire praise. But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill, And shooting well, is then accounted ill: Thus will I saue my Credite in the shoote, Not wounding, pittie would not let me doote. If wounding then it was to shew my skill, That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill. And out of question so it is sometimes: Glorie growes guyltie of detested crimes, When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part, We bend to that, the working of the hart. As I for praise alone now seeke to spill The poore Deares blood, that my hart meanes no ill.

Boy.

Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be Lords ore their Lordes?

Quee.

Onely for praise, and praise we may afford, To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.

Enter Clowne.

Boyet,

Here comes a member of the common wealth.

Clo.

God dig-you-den al, pray you which is the head lady?

Que.

Thou shalt know her fellow by the rest that haue no heads.

Clow.

Which is the greatest Ladie, the highest?

Quee.

The thickest, and the tallest.

Clow.

The thickest, and the tallest: it is so, trueth is trueth. And your waste Mistrs were as slender as my wit, One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chiefe woman? You are the thickest heere.

Quee.

Whats your will sir? Whats your will?

Clow.

I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne, to one Ladie Rosaline.

Que.

O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine. Stand a side good bearer. Boyet you can carue, Breake vp this Capon.

Boyet

I am bound to serue. This letter is mistooke: it importeth none heere. It is writ to Iaquenetta.

Quee.

We will reade it, I sweare. Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare.

Boyet reedes.

BY heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true that thou art beautious, trueth it selfe that thou art louelie: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beau∣tious, truer then trueth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame: He came, one; see, two; couercame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to ouer∣come. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame he? the Begge••▪ The conclusion is victorie: On whose side? the King: the captiue is inricht, on whose side? the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall, on whose side? the Kinges: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for so standes the comparison) thou the Beg∣ger, for so witnesseth thy lowlines. Shall I commande thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I coulde. Shall I en∣treate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for raggs roabes, for tittles tytles, for thy selfe, mee. Thus expecting thy replie, I prophane my lippes on thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my hart on thy euerie part.

Thine in the dearest designe of industri, Don Adriana de Armatho.

Thus dost thou heare the nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before, And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den.

Quee.

What plume of fethers is he that indited this letter? What vaine? What Wethercock? Did you euer heare better?

Boy.

I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile.

Quee.

Els your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile.

Boy.

This Armado is a Spaniard that keepes here in court. A Phantasime a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his Booke-mates.

Quee.

Thou fellow, a worde. Who gaue thee this letter?

Clow.

I tolde you, my Lord.

Quee.

To whom shouldst thou giue it?

Clow.

From my Lord to my Ladie.

Quee.

From which Lord, to which Ladie?

Clow.

From my Lord Berowne, a good Maister of mine, To a Ladie of France, that he calde Rosaline.

Quee.

Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away. Here sweete, put vp this, twilbe thine annother day.

Boy.

Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?

Rosa.

Shall I teach you to know.

Boy.

I my continent of beautie.

Rosa.

Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off.

Boy.

My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie, hang me by the necke, if horns that yeere miscarrie. Finely put on.

Rosa.

Well then I am the shooter.

Boy.

And who is your Deare?

Rosa.

If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not neare. Finely put on in deede.

Maria.

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

Boyet.

But she her selfe is hit lower: Haue I hit her now?

Rosa.

Shall I come vpon thee with an olde saying, that

was a man when King Pippen of Frannce was a litle boy, as touching the hit it.

Boy.

So I may answere thee with one as olde that was a woman when queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a litle wench as toching the hit it.

Rosa.

Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it my good man.

Exit.

Boy.

And I cannot, cannot, cannot: and I cannot, an other can.

Clo.

By my troth most plesant, how both did fit it.

Mar.

A marke marueilous wel shot, for they both did hit.

Bo.

A mark, O mark but that mark: a mark saies my Lady. Let the mark haue a prick in't, to meate at, if it may be.

Mar.

Wide a'the bow hand, yfaith your hand is out.

Clo.

Indeed a'must shoot nearer, or hele neare hit the clout.

Boy.

And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.

Clo.

Then will she get the vpshoot by cleauing the is in.

Ma.

Come come, you talke greasely, your lips grow fowle.

Cl.

Shes to hard for you at pricks, sir challeng her to bowle

Bo.

I feare too much rubbing: good night my good owle.

Clo.

By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne. Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe. O my troth most sweete iestes, most inconie vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenly as it were, so fit. Armatho ath toothen side▪ o a most daintie man, To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fann. To see him kisse his hand, & how most sweetly a wil sweare: And his Page at other side, that handfull of wit, Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit. Sowla, sowla.

Exeunt. Shoot. within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

Nat.

Very reuerent sport truly, and done in the testimonie of a good conscience.

Ped.

The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as the Pomwater, who now hangeth like a Iewel in the eare of Celo the skie, the welken the heauen, & anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth.

Curat Nath.

Truely M. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly vatried like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye it was a Bucke of the first head.

Holo.

Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

Dul.

Twas not a haud credo, twas a Pricket.

Holo.

Most barbarous intimation: yet a kind of insinua∣••ion, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclina∣tion after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest vnconfirmed fa∣shion, to insert again my haud credo for a Deare.

Dul.

I said the Deare was not a haud credo, twas a Pricket.

Holo.

Twice sodd simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster ignorance, How deformed doost thou looke.

Nath.

Sir he hath neuer fed of the dainties that are bred in a booke. He hath not eate paper as it were: he hath not drunke inck. His intellect is not replenished, he is only an annimall, only sensible in the duller partes: and such barren plantes are set before vs, that we thankful should be: which we taste, and feeling, are for those partes that doe fructifie in vs more then he. For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indistreell, or a foole, So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a schole. But omne bene say I, being of an olde Fathers minde, Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde.

Dul.

You two are book-men, Can you tel me by your wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue weeks old as yet?

Holo.

Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull.

Dul.

What is dictima?

Nath.

A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone.

Holo.

The Moone was a month old when Adam was no more. And rought not to fiue-weeks when he came to fiuescore. Th' allusion holdes in the Exchange.

Dul.

Tis true in deede, the Collusion holdes in the Ex∣change.

Holo.

God comfort thy capacitie, I say th' allusion holdes in the Exchange.

Dul.

And I say the polusion holdes in the Exchange: for the Moone is neuer but a month olde: and I say beside that, twas a Pricket that the Princesse kil••.

Holo.

Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall Epy∣taph on the death of the Deare, and to humour the igno∣rault cald the Deare: the Princesse kild a Pricket.

Nath.

Perge, good M. Holofernes perge, so it shall please you to abrogate squirilitie.

Holo.

I wil somthing affect the letter, for it argues facilitie. ❧The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt a prettie pleasing Pricket, Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore, then Sorell iumps from thicket: Or Pricket-sore, or els Sorell, the people fall a hooting. If Sore be sore, then el to Sore, makes fiftie sores o sorell: Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more I.

Nath.

A rare talent.

Dull.

If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent.

Nath.

This is a gyft that I haue simple: simple, a foolish extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiectes, Ideas, aprehentions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of Memorie, nourisht in the wombe of prima∣ter, and deliuered vpon the mellowing of occasion: But the gyft is good••n those whom it is acute, and I am thankfull for it.

Holo.

Sir, I prayse the L. for you, and so may my parishi∣oners, for their Sonnes are well tuterd by you, and their Daughters profite very greatly vnder you: you are a good member of the common wealth.

Nath.

Me herele, yf their Sonnes be ingenous, they shal want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Ʋir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soule Femi∣nine saluteth vs.

Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

Iaquenetta.

God giue you good morrow M. Person.

Nath.

Maister Person, quasi Person? And if one shoulde be perst, Which is the one?

Clo.

Marrie M. Scholemaster, he that is liklest to a hoggs∣head.

Nath.

Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit in a turph of Earth, Fier enough for a Flint, Pearle enough for a Swine: tis prettie, it is well.

Iaque.

Good M. Parson be so good as read me this letter, it was geuen me by Costard, and sent me from 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Armatho: I beseech you read it.

Nath.

Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ru∣minat, and so foorth. Ah good olde Mantuan, I may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Ʋenice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Olde Mantuan, olde Mantuan, Who vnderstandeth thee not, loues thee not, vt re sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contentes? or rather as Hor∣race sayes in his, What my soule verses.

Holo.

I sir, and very learned.

Nath.

Let me heare a staffe, a stauze, a verse, Lege domine. If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue? Ah neuer fayth could hold, yf not to beautie vowed. Though to my selfe forsworne, to thee Ile faythfull proue. Those thoughts to me were Okes, to thee like Osiers bowed Studie his by as leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes. Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend. If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffise. Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend. All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder. Which is to mee some prayse, that I thy partes admire, Thy eie Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadful thūder Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fier. Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this woug, That singes heauens prayse, with such an earthly tong.

Pedan.

You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the accent. Let me superuise the cangenet.

Nath.

Here are onely numbers ratefied, but for the ele∣gancie,

facilitie, and golden c••dence of poesie caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smel∣ling out the odoriferous flowers of fancie? the ierkes of in∣uention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his maister, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you?

Iaq.

I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes Lordes.

Nath.

I will ouerglaunce the superscript. To the snow ••hite hand of the most bewtious Lady Rosaline. I will looke againe on the intellect of the letter, for the no∣mination of the partie written to the person written vnto. Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne.

Ped.

Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger Queenes: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the royall hand of the King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgiue thy dewtie, adue.

Mayd.

Good Costard go with me: sir God saue your life.

Cost.

Haue with thee my girle.

Exit.

Holo.

Sir you haue done this in the feare of God verie reli∣giously: and as a certaine Father saith

Ped.

Sir tell not mee of the Father, I do feare colourable coloures. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please you sir Nathaniel?

Nath.

Marueilous well for the pen.

Peda.

I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine pupill of mine, where if (before repast) it shall please you to gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with the parentes of the foresaid childe or pupill, vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those Verses to be very vn∣learned, neither sauouring of Poetrie, wit, nor inuention. I beseech your societie.

Nath.

And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text) is the happines of life.

Peda.

And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.

Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our re∣creation.

Exeunt.

Enter Berowne with a paper in his hand, alone.

Berow.

The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe. They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pytch that defiles; defile, a foule worde: Well, set thee downe sorrow; for so they say the foole sayd, and so say I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this Loue is as madd as Aiax, it kills Sheepe, it kills mee, I a Sheepe well prooued againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang mee: I'fayth I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath taught me to rime, and to be mallicholie: and heere is part of my Rime, and heare my mallicholie. Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweete Clowne, sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the worlde, I woulde not care a pin, if the other three were in. Heere comes one with a paper, God giue him grace to grone.

He standes a side.

The King entreth.

King.

Ay mee!

Be.

Shot by heauen, proceed sweet Cupid, thou hast thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left papp: in fayth secrets.

King,

So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not, To those fresh morning dropps vpon the Rose, As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot. The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes. Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright, Through the transparent bosome of the deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light: Thou shinst in euerie teare that I do weepe, No drop but as a Coach doth carrie thee: So ridest thou triumphing in my wo. Do but beholde the teares that swell in me, And they thy glorie through my griefe will show:

But do not loue thy selfe, then thou will keepe My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe. O Queene of queenes, how farre doost thou excell, No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell. How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the pader. Sweete leaues shade follie. Who is he comes heere?

Enter Longauill.

The King steps a side.

What Longauill, and reading: listen eare.

Berow.

Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare.

Long.

Ay mee! I am forsworne.

Berow.

Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers.

Long.

In loue I hope, sweete fellowship in shame.

Ber.

One drunkard loues an other of the name.

Long.

Am I the first that haue been periurd so?

Ber.

I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know, Thou makest the triumpherie, the corner cap of societie, The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hanges vp Simplicitie.

Long.

I feare these stubborne lines lacke power to moue. O sweete Maria, Empresse of my Loue, These numbers will I teare, and write in prose.

Ber.

O Rimes are gardes on wanton Cupids hose, Disfigure not his Shop.

Long.

This same shall go.

He reades the Sonnet.

I Did not the heauenly Rethorique of thine eye, Gainst whom the world cannot holde argument, Perswade my hart to this false periurie? Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment. A Woman I forswore, but I will proue, Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee. My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue. Thy grace being gainde, cures all disgrace in mee. Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapoure is. Then thou faire Sunne, which on my earth doost shine, Exhalst this vapour-vow in thee it is: If broken then, it is no fault of mine: If by mee broke, What foole is not so wise, To loose an oth, to winn a Parradise?

Bero.

This is the lyuer veine, which makes flesh a deitie.

A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure ydotarie. God amende vs, God amende, we are much out a th' way.

Enter Dumaine.

Long.

By whom shall I send this (companie?) Stay.

Berow.

All hid, all hid, an olde infant play, Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie, And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore ey. More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wysh, Dumaine transformed, foure Woodcocks in a dysh.

Duma.

O most deuine Kate.

Berow.

O most prophane coxcombe.

Duma.

By heauen the woonder in a mortall eye.

Ber.

By earth she is not, croporall, there you ly.

Duma.

Her Amber heires for foule hath amber coted.

Ber.

An amber colourd Rauen was well noted.

Duma.

As vpright as the Ceder.

Ber.

Stoope I say, her shoulder is with child.

Duma.

As faire as day.

Ber.

I as some dayes, but then no Sunne must shine.

Duma.

O that I had my wish?

Long.

And I had mine.

King.

And mine too good Lord.

Ber.

Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?

Duma.

I would forget her, but a Feuer shee Raignes in my blood, and will remembred be.

Ber.

A Feuer in your blood, why then incision Would let her out in Sawcers, sweete misprison.

Dum.

Once more Ile reade the Odo that I haue writ.

Ber.

Once more Ile marke how Loue can varrie Wit.

Dumaine reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alacke the day: Loue, whose Month is euer May: Spied a blossome passing faire, Playing in the wanton aire: Through the Veluet, leaues the wind, All vnseene, can passage finde: That the Louer sicke to death.

Wish himselfe the heauens breath. Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blow, Ayre would I might triumph so, But alacke my hand is sworne, Nere to plucke thee from thy throne: Vow alacke for youth vnmeete, Youth so apt to pluck a sweete. Do not call it sinne in me, That I am forsworne for thee: Thou for whom Ioue would sweare, Iuno but an Aethiop were, And denie himselfe for Ioue, Turning mortall for thy loue. This will I send, and something els more plaine. That shall expresse my true loues fasting paine. O would the King, Berowne, and Longauill, Were Louers too, ill to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a periurde note: For none offende, where all alike do dote.

Long.

Dumaine thy Loue is farre from charitie, That in loues griefe desirst societie: You may looke pale, but I should blush I know, To be ore-hard and taken napping so.

King.

Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such. You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not loue Maria? Longauile, Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile, Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart His louing bosome, to keepe downe his hart. I haue been closely shrowded in this bush, And markt you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guyltie Rimes, obserude your fashion: Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your pashion. Ay mee sayes one! O Ioue the other cryes! One her haires were Golde, Christal the others eyes. You would for Parradise breake Fayth and troth, And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oth. What will Berowne say when that he shall heare

Fayth infringed, which such zeale did sweare. How will he scorne, how will he spende his wit? How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it? For all the wealth that euer I did see, I would not haue him know so much by mee.

Bero.

Now step I foorth to whip hipocrisie. Ah good my Leidge, I pray thee pardon mee. Good hart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue These Wormes for louing, that art most in loue? Your eyes do make no couches in your teares. There is no certaine Princesse that appeares. Youle not be periurde, tis a hatefull thing: Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting. But are you not a shamed? nay, are you not All three of you, to be thus much ore' shot? You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see: But I a Beame do finde in each of three. O what a Scaene of foolrie haue I seene, Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene: O mee, with what strickt patience haue I sat, To see a King transformed to a Gnat. To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge, And profound Sallomon to tune a Iigge. And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes, And Crittick Tymon laugh at idle toyes. Where lies thy griefe, o tell me good Dumaine? And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine? And where my Liedges? all about the brest. A Caudle hou!

King.

Too bitter is thy iest. Are we betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?

Ber.

Not you by mee, but I betrayed to you. I that am honest, I that holde it sinne To breake the vow I am ingaged in. I am betrayed by keeping companie With men like men of inconstancie. When shall you see mee write a thing in rime? Or grone for Loue? or spend•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 minutes time,

In pruning mee when shall you heare that I will prayse a hand, a foote, a face, an eye: a gate, a stace, a brow, a brest, a wast, a legge, a limme.

King.

Soft, Whither away so fast? A true man, or a the••fe, that gall••ps so.

Ber.

I post from Loue, good Louer let me go.

Iaqu.

God blesse the King.

Enter Iaquenetta and Clown••.

King.

What present hast thou there?

Clow.

Some certaine treason.

King.

What makes treason heere?

Clow.

Nay it makes nothing sir.

King.

Yf it mart nothing neither, The treason and you goe in peace away togeather.

Iaqu••.

I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read, Our person misdoubts it: twas treason he said.

King.

Berowne reade it ouer.

He reades the letter.

King.

Where hadst thou it?

Iaqu.

Of Costard.

King.

Where hadst thou it?

Cost.

Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

Kin.

How now, What is in yo••? Why dost thou teare it?

Ber.

A toy my Leedge, a toy: your grace needs not feare it.

Long.

It did moue him to passion, & therfore lets heare it.

Dum.

It is Berownes writing, and heere is his name.

Berow.

Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to do me s••••me. Gu••ltie my Lord, guiltie: I confesse, I confesse.

King.

What?

Ber.

That you three fooles, lackt me foole, to make vp the messe▪ Hee, hee, and you▪ and you my Leege, and I, Are pick-purse•• i•• Loue, and we deserue to die. O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more.

Duma.

Now the number is euen.

Bero.

True true, we are fower: will these turtles be gon▪

King▪

Hence sirs, away.

Clow.

Walke aside the true folke, and let the traytors stay.

Ber.

Sweete Lords, sweete Louers▪ O let vs imbrace, As true we are as flesh and blood can be,

The Sea will ebb and flow, heauen shew his face: Young blood doth not obay an olde decree. We can not crosse the cause why we were borne: Therefore of all handes must we be forsworne.

King.

What, did these rent lines shew some loue of thine?

Ber.

Did they quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline, That (like a rude and sauadge man of Inde.) At the first opning of the gorgious East, Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blind. Kisses the base ground with obedient breast. What peromptorie Eagle-sighted eye Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow, That is not blinded by her maiestie?

King.

What zeale, what furie, hath inspirde thee now? My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone, Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light.

Ber

My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne, O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night, Of all complexions the culd soueraigntie, Do meete as at a faire in her faire cheeke, Where seuerall worthies make one dignitie, Where nothing wantes, that want it selfe doth seeke. Lend me the florish of all gentle tongues, F••e paynted Rethoricke, O shee needes it not, To thinges of sale, a sellers prayse belonges: She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot. A witherd Hermight fiuescore winters worne, Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye: Beautie doth varnish Age, as if new borne, And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie. O tis the Sunne that maketh all thinges shine.

King.

By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie.

Berow.

Is Ebonie like her? O word deuine! A wife of such wood were felicitie. O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke? That I may sweare Beautie doth beautie lacke, If that she learne not of her eye to looke: No face is fayre that is not full so blacke.

King.

O paradox, Blacke is the badge of Hell, The hue of dungions, and the Schoole of night: And beauties crest becomes the heauens well.

Ber.

Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirites of light. O if in blacke my Ladyes browes be deckt, It mournes, that painting vsurping haire Should rauish dooters with a false aspect: And therefore is she borne to make blacke fayre. Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes, For natiue blood is counted paynting now: And therefore redd that would auoyde disprayse, Paintes it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow.

Duma.

To looke like her are Chimnie-sweepers blake.

Long.

And since her time are Colliers counted bright.

King.

And Aethiops of their sweete complexion crake.

Duma.

Darke needes no Candles now, for darke is light.

Ber.

Your Mistresses dare neuer come in raine, For feare their colours should be washt away.

King.

Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine, Ile finde a fayrer face not washt to day.

Ber.

Ile proue her faire, or talke till doomse-day heere.

King.

No Diuel will fright thee then so much as shee.

Duma.

I neuer knew man holde vile stuffe so deare.

Long.

Looke, heer's thy loue, my foote and her face see.

Ber

O if the streetes were paued with thine eyes, Her feete were much too daintie for such tread.

Duma.

O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes? The streete should see as she walkt ouer head.

King.

But what of this, are we not all in loue?

Ber.

O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne.

King.

Then leaue this chat, and good Berowne now proue Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne.

Duma.

I marie there, some flatterie for this euyll.

Long.

O some authoritie how to proceede, Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheate the diuell.

Duma.

Some salue for periurie.

Ber.

O tis more then neede. Haue at you then affections men at armes,

For Charitie it selfe fulfilles the Law: And who can seuer Loue from Charitie.

King.

Saint Cupid then and Souldiers to the fielde.

Berow.

Aduaunce your standars, and vpon them Lords. Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduisd, In conflict that you get the Sunne of them.

Long.

Now to plaine dealing▪ Lay these glozes by, Shall we resolue to woe these gyrles of Fraunce?

King.

And winn them too, therefore let vs deuise, Some enterteinment for them in their Tentes.

Ber.

First from the Parke let vs conduct them thither, Then homeward euery man attach the hand Of his faire Mistres, in the after noone We will with some strange pastime solace them: Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape, For Reuels, Daunces, Maskes, and merrie houres, Forerunne faire Loue, strewing her way with flower••.

King.

Away, away, no time shalbe omitted, That will be time and may by vs befitted.

Ber.

Alone alone sowed Cockell, reapt no Corne, And Iustice alwayes whirles in equall measure: Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsome, If so our Copper byes no better treasure.

Enter the Pedant, the Curat, and Dull.

Pedant.

Satis quid sufficit.

Curat.

I prayse God for you sir, your reasons at Dinner haue been sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurillitie, wittie without affection, audatious without impudencie, learned without opinion, and strange without heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion of the kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Ar∣matho.

Ped.

Noui▪ hominum tanquam te, His humour is loftie, his discourse peremptorie: his tongue fyled, his eye ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour vaine, redicu∣lous, & thrasonicall. He is too picked, to spruce, too affected, to od as it were, too peregrinat as I may call it.

Curat.

A most singuler and choyce Epithat,

Draw-out his Table-booke.

Peda.

He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer then the staple of his argument. I abhorre such phanatticall phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake ••out fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calfe, Cause: halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abbominable, it insinuateth me of in∣famie: •••• inteligis domine, to make frantique lunatique?

Curat.

Laus deo, bene intelligo.

Peda.

B••me boon for boon presci••n, a litle scratcht, twil serue.

Enter Bragart, Boy.

Curat.

Vides ne quis venit?

Peda.

Video, et gaudio.

Brag.

Chirra.

Peda.

Quàri Chirra, not Sirra?

Brag.

Men of peace well incontred.

Ped.

Most millitarie sir salutation.

Boy.

They haue been at a great feast of Languages, and stolne the scraps.

Clow.

O they haue lyud long on the almsbasket of wordes. I maruaile thy M. hath not eaten thee for a worde, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon.

Page.

Peace, the peale begins.

Brag.

Mounsier, are you not lettred?

Page.

Yes yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What is Ab speld backward with the horne on his head?

Poda.

Ba, puericia with a horne added.

Pag.

Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare his learning.

Peda.

Quis quis thou Consonant?

Pag.

The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeate them, or the fift if I.

Peda.

I will repeate them: a e I.

Pag.

The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u.

Brag.

Now by the sault wane of the meditaranium, a

sweete tutch, a quicke vene we of wit, snip snap, quicke and home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit.

Page.

Offerd by a childe to an old man: which is wit-old.

Peda.

What is the figure? What is the figure?

Page.

Hornes.

Peda.

Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy Gigg.

Pag.

Lende me your Horne to make one, and I will whip about your Infamie vnū cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne.

Clow.

And I had but one peny in the world thou shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Holde, there is the verie Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfe pennie purse of wit, thou Pidgin-egge of discretion. O and the heauens were so pleased, that thou wart but my Ba∣stard; What a ioyfull father wouldest thou make me? Go to, thou hast it ad dungil at the fingers ends, as they say.

Peda.

Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem.

Brag.

Arts-man preambulat, we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-house on the top of the Mountaine?

Peda.

Or Mons the hill.

Brag.

At your sweete pleasure, for the Mountaine.

Peda.

I do sans question.

Bra.

Sir, it is the Kings most sweete pleasur & affection, to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone.

Peda.

The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the after noone: the worde is well culd, chose, sweete, & apt I do assure you sir, I do assure.

Brag.

Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my fami∣lier, I do assure ye very good friende: for what is inwarde betweene vs, let it passe. I do beseech thee remember thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparrell thy head: and among other importunt and most serious designes, and of great import in deede too: but let that passe, for I must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the worlde) sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my mustachie: but sweete hart let that passe. By the world I recount no fable, some certaine

special honours it pleaseth his greatnes to impart to Armado a Souldier, a man of trauayle, that hath seene the worlde: but let that passe; the very all of all is: but sweet hart, I do implore secretie, that the King would haue me present the Princesse (sweete chuck) with some delightfull ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or fierworke: Now vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweete selfe, are good at such erup∣tions, and sodaine breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to the ende▪ to craue your assistance.

Peda.

Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainement of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rended by our assistants the Kinges commaund, and this most gallant il∣lustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the nine Worthies.

Curat.

Where will you finde men worthie enough to pre∣sent them?

Peda.

Iosua, your selfe, my selfe, and this gallant Gentle∣man Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great lim or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the Page Hercules.

Brag.

Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough for that worthies thumbe, he is not so big as the end of his Club.

Peda.

Shall I haue audience? He shall present Hercules in minoritie: his enter and exit shalbe strangling a Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose.

Page.

An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crusshest the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few haue the grace to do it.

Brag.

For the rest of the Worthies?

Peda.

I will play three my selfe.

Page.

Thrice worthie Gentleman.

Brag.

Shall I tell you a thing?

Peda.

We attende.

Brag.

We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I be∣seech you follow.

Peda.

Ʋia good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no worde all this while.

Dull.

Nor vnderstoode none neither sir.

Ped.

Alone, we will employ thee.

Dull.

Ile make one in a daunce, or so: or I will play on the Taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hey.

Peda.

Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport: away.

Exeunt.

Enter the Ladyes.

Quee.

Sweete hartes we shalbe rich ere we depart, Yf Fayrings come thus plentifully in. A Ladie walde about with Diamondes: Looke you, what I haue from the louing King.

Rosa.

Madame, came nothing els along with that?

Quee.

Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime, As would be crambd vp in a sheete of paper Writ a both sides the leafe, margent and all, That he was faine to seale on Cupids name.

R••sa.

That was the way to make his god-head Wax: For he hath been fiue thousand yeere a Boy.

Kath.

I and a shrowde vnhappie gallowes too.

Ros.

Youle neare be friendes with him, a kild your sister.

Kath.

He made her melancholie, sad, and heauie, And so she died: had she bin Light like you, of such a mery nimble stiring spirit, she might a bin Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light hart liues long.

Ros.

Whats your darke meaning mouce, of this light word?

Kath.

A light condition in a beautie darke.

Ros.

We neede more light to finde your meaning out.

Kath.

Yole marre the light by taking it in snuffe: Therefore Ile darkly ende the argument.

Ros.

Looke what you do, you do it still i'th darke.

Kath.

So do not you, for you are a light Wench.

Ros.

In deede I waigh not you, and therefore light.

Kath.

You waigh me not, O thats you care not for me.

Ros.

Great reason: for past care, is still past cure.

Quee.

Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played. But Rasaline, you haue a Fauour too? Who sent it? and what is it?

Ros.

I would you knew. And if my face were but as faire as yours, My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this. Nay I haue Vearses too, I thanke Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbring too, I were the fayrest Goddesse on the ground. I am comparde to twentie thousand fairs. O he hath drawen my picture in his letter.

Quee.

Any thing like?

Ros.

Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.

Quee.

Beautious as Incke: a good conclusion.

Kath.

Faire as a text B in a Coppie booke.

Ros.

Ware pensalls, How? Let me not die your debtor, My red Dominicall, my golden letter, O that your face were not so full of Oes.

Quee.

A Poxe of that iest, and I beshrow all Shrowes. But Katherine what was sent to you From faire Dumaine?

Kath.

Madame, this Gloue▪

Quee.

Did he not send you twaine?

Kath.

Yes Madame: and moreouer, Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer. A hudge translation of hipocrisie, Vildly compyled, profound simplicitie.

Marg.

This, and these Pearle, to me sent Longauile. The Letter is too long by halfe a mile.

Quee.

I thinke no lesse: Dost thou not wish in hart The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short.

Marg.

I, or I would these handes might neuer part.

Quee.

We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so.

Ros.

They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne ile torture ere I go. O that I knew he wore but in by th' weeke, How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke, And wayte the season, and obserue the times, And spend his prodigall wittes in booteles rimes▪ And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice, And make him proude to make me proude that iestes▪

Their seuerall counsailes they vnboosome shall, To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall. Vpon the next occasion that we meete, With Visages displayde to talke and greete.

Ros.

But shall we dance, if they desire vs toot?

Quee.

No, to the death we will not moue a foot, Nor to their pend speach render we no grace: But while tis spoke each turne away his face.

Boy.

Why that contempt will kill the speakers hart, And quite diuorce his memorie from his part.

Quee.

Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt, The rest will ere come in, if he be out. Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne: To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne. So shall we stay mocking entended game, And they wel mockt depart away with shame.

Sound Trom.

Boy.

The Trompet soundes, be maskt, the maskers come.

Enter Black-moores with musicke, the Boy with a speach, and the rest of the Lordes disguysed.

Page.

All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth.

Berow.

Beauties no richer then rich Taffata.

Page.

A holy parcell of the fayrest dames that euer turnd their backes to mortall viewes.

The Ladyes turne their backes to him.

Berow,

Their eyes villaine, their eyes.

Pag.

That euen turnde their eyes to mortall viewes. Out

Boy.

True, out in deede.

Pag.

Out of your fauours heauenly spirites vouchsafe Not to beholde.

Berow.

Once to beholde, rogue.

Page.

Once to beholde with your Sunne beamed eyes, With your Sunne beamed eyes.

Boyet.

They will not answere to that Epythat▪ You were best call it Daughter beamed eyes.

Pag.

They do not marke me, and that bringes me out.

Ber.

Is this your perfectnes? begon you rogue.

Rosal.

What would these stranges? Know their mindes Boyet. If they do speake our language, tis our will That some plaine man recount their purposes. Know what they would?

Boyet.

What would you with the Princes?

Berow.

Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.

Rosa.

What would they, say they?

Boy.

Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.

Rosa.

Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon.

Boy.

She saies you haue it, and you may be gon.

King.

Say to her we haue measurd many miles, To treade a Measure with her on this grasse.

Boy.

They say that they haue measurd many a mile, To tread a Measure with you on this grasse.

Rosa.

It is not so. Aske them how manie inches Is in one mile? If they haue measured manie, The measure then of one is easlie tolde.

Boy.

If to come hither, you haue measurde miles, And manie miles: the Princesse bids you tell, How manie inches doth fill vp one mile?

Berow.

Tell her we measure them by weerie steps▪

Boy.

She heares her selfe.

Rosa.

How manie weerie steps, Of manie weerie miles you haue ore gone, Are numbred in the trauaile of one Mile?

Bero.

We number nothing that we spend for you, Our duetie is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face, That we (like sauages) may worship it.

Rosa.

My face is but a Moone, and clouded too.

King.

Blessed are cloudes, to do as such cloudes do. Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy Starts to shine, (Those cloudes remooued) vpon our waterie eyne.

Rosa.

O vaine peticioner, begg a greater matter, Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water.

King.

Then in our measure, do but vouchsafe one change,

Quee.

Berowne did sweare him selfe out of all su••te.

Mar.

Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword, No poynt (quoth I) my seruant, straight was mute.

Kath.

Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart: And trow you what he calde me?

Quee.

Qualme perhapt.

Kath.

Yes in good faith.

Quee.

Goe sicknes as thou art.

Ros.

Well, better-wits haue worne plaine sta•••• Caps. But will you heare; the King is my Loue sworne.

Quee.

And quicke Berowne hath plighted Fayth to me.

Kath.

And Longauill was for my seruice borne.

Mar.

Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree.

Boyet.

Madame, and prettie mistresses giue eare▪ Immediatly they will againe be heere, In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be, They will digest this harsh indignitie.

Quee.

Will they returne?

Boy.

They will they will, God knowes, And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes: Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire, Blow like sweete Roses, in this sommer aire.

Quee.

How blow? how blow? Speake to be vnderstood.

Boy.

Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud: Dismaskt, their dammaske sweete commixture showne, Are Angels varling cloudes, or Roses blowne.

Quee.

Auaunt perplexitie, What shall we do, If they returne in their owne shapes to woe?

Rosa.

Good Madame, if by me youle be aduisde, Lets mocke them still as well knowne as disguysde: Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare, Disguysd like Muscouites in shapeles geare: And wonder what they were, and to what ende Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildly pende▪ And their rough carriage so rediculous, Should be presented at our Tent to vs.

Boyet.

Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand,

Quee.

Whip to our Tents as Roes runs ore land.

Exeunt.

Enter the King and the rest.

King.

Faire sir, God saue you: Wher's the Princesse?

Boyet.

Gone to her Tent. Please it your Maiestie com∣maunde me any seruice to her thither,

King.

That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

Boy.

I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.

Exit.

Berow.

This fellow peckes vp Wit as Pidgions Pease, And 〈◊〉〈◊〉 againe when God dooth please. He is Witts Pedler, and retales his wares: At Wakes and Wassels, meetings, markets, Faires▪ And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know, Haue not the grace to grace it with such show. This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue▪ Had he bin Adam he had tempted Eue. A can carue to, and lispe: Why this is hee That kist his hand, a way in courtisie. This is the Ape of Forme, Mounsier the nice, That when he playes at Tables chides the Dice In honorable tearmes; nay he can sing A meane most meanely, and in hushering. Mende him who can, the Ladies call him sweete. The staires as he treades on them kisse his feete. This is the floure that smyles on euery one. To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone. And consciences that will not die in debt, Pay him the due of honie-tonged Boyet.

King.

A blister on his sweete tongue with my hart, That put Armathoes Page out of his part.

Enter the Ladies.

Bero.

See where it comes. Behauiour what wert thou? Till this mad man shewed thee, and what art thou now?

King.

All haile sweete Madame, and faire time of day.

Quee.

Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceaue.

King.

Consture my spaches better, if you may.

Quee.

Then wish me better, I will giue you leaue.

King.

We came to visite you, and purpose now,

To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.

Quee.

This Feelde shall holde me, and so hold your vow: Nor God nor I delights in periurd men.

King.

Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke: The vertue of your eie must breake my oth.

Que.

You nickname vertue, vice you should haue spoke: For vertues office neuer breakes mens troth. Now by my maiden honour yet as pure, As the vnsallied Lilly I protest, A worlde of tormentes though I should endure, I would not yeelde to be your houses guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heauenly Othes vowed with integritie.

King.

O you haue liu'd in desolation heere, Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame.

Quee.

Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare, We haue had pastimes here and pleasant game, A messe of Russians left vs but of late.

King.

How Madame? Russians?

Quee.

I in trueth My Lord. Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state.

Rosa.

Madame speake true: It is not so my Lord: My Ladie (to the maner of the dayes) In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise. We foure in deede confronted were with foure, In Russian habite: heere they stayed an houre, And talkt apace: and in that houre (my Lord) They did not blesse vs with one happie word. I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke, When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke.

Bero.

This iest is drie to me, gentle sweete, Your wits makes wise thinges foolish when we greete Wtih eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie: By light we loose light, your capacitie Is of that nature, that to your hudge stoore, Wise thinges seeme foolish, and rich thinges but poore.

Rosa.

This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie.

Bero.

I am a foole, and full of pouertie.

Rosa.

But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch wordes from my tongue.

Ber.

O, I am yours and all that I possesse.

Rosa.

All the foole mine.

Ber.

I cannot giue you lesse.

Ros.

Which of the Vizards was it that you wore?

Ber.

Where, when, what Vizard? why demaund you this?

Rosa.

There, then, that Vizard? that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and shewed the better face.

King.

We were descried, theyle mock vs now dounright.

Duman.

Let vs confesse and turne it to a iest.

Quee.

Amazde my Lord? Why lookes your highnes sad?

Rosa.

Helpe holde his browes, heele sound: why looke you pale? Sea sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie.

Bero.

Thus pooure the Starres downe plagues for periurie. Can anie face of brasse hold longer out? Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruse me with scorne, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance▪ Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit. And I will wish thee neuer more to daunce, Nor neuer more in Russian habite waite. O neuer will I trust to speaches pend, Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boyes tongue▪ Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rime like a blind harpers songue. Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise, Three pilde Hiberboles, spruce affection: Figures pedanticall, these sommer flies, Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation. I do forsweare them, and I here protest, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knowes) Hencefoorth my wooing minde shalbe exprest In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes. And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law, My loue to thee is sound, sance cracke or flaw▪

Rosa.

Sans, sans, I pray you.

Bero.

Yet I haue a tricke, Of the olde rage: beare with me, I am sicke. Ile leaue it by degrees; soft, let vs see, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three, They are infected, in their hartes it lyes: They haue the Plague, and caught it of your eyes, These Lordes are visited, you are not free, For the Lords tokens on you do I see.

Quee.

No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs.

Berow.

Our states are forfait, seeke not to vndoo vs.

Rosa.

It is not so, for how can this be true, That you stand forfait, being those that sue.

Bero.

Peace, for I will not haue to doe with you.

Rosa.

Nor shall not, if I do as I intende.

Bero.

Speake for your selues, my wit is at an ende.

King.

Teach vs sweet Madame, for our rude transgression Some faire excuse.

Quee.

The fairest is confession. Were not you here but euen now, disguysde?

King.

Madame, I was.

Quee.

And were you well aduisde?

King.

I was faire Madame.

Quee.

When you then were heere, What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?

King.

That more then all the world, I did respect her.

Quee.

When she shall challenge this, you will reiect her.

King.

Vpon mine honour no.

Quee.

Peace peace, forbeare: your Oth once broke, you force not to forsweare.

King.

Despise me when I breake this oth of mine.

Quee.

I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your eare?

Rosa.

Madame, he swore that he did hold me deare, As precious ey-sight, and did value me Aboue this Worlde: adding thereto more ouer, That he would wed me, or els die my Louer.

Quee.

God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord Most honourablie doth vphold his word▪

King.

What meane you Madame: by my life my troth, I neuer swore this Lady such an oth.

Rosal.

By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine, You gaue me this: but take it sir againe.

King.

My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue, I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue.

Quee.

Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare, And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare. What? will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?

Berow.

Neither of either: I remit both twaine. I see the tricke ant: here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our meriment, To dash it lik a Christmas Comedie: Some carry tale, some please-man, some sleight saine: Some mumble newes, some trencher Knight, some Dick That smyles, his cheeke in yeeres, and knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when shees disposd: Tolde our intentes before: which once disclosd, The Ladies did change Fauours; and then wee Folowing the signes, wood but the signe of shee▪ Now to our periurie, to add more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies foote by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie? And stand betweene her backe sir and the fier, Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie? You put our Page out: goe, you are aloude. Die when you will, a Smocke shalbe your shroude. You leere vpon me, do you: ther's an eie Woundes like a leaden sword.

Boyet.

Full merely hath this braue nuage, this carre••re bin run.

Bero.

Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.

Enter Clowne.

Ber.

Welcome pure wit, thou partst a faire fray.

Clow.

O Lord sir, they would know,

Bero.

My hat to a halfe-pennie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie.

Enter Curate for Alexander.

Curat.

When in the world I liud, I was the worldes commander: By East, West, North, and South, I spred my conquering might: My Scutchion plaine declares that I am Alisander.

Boyet.

Your Nose saies no, you are not: for it stands too right.

Be.

Your nose smels no in his most tender smelling knight.

Qu.

The conqueror is dismaid: proceed good Alexander.

Cura.

When in the worlde I liued, I was the worldes commander.

Boy.

Most true, tis right: you were so Alisander.

Bero.

Pompey the great.

Clow.

Your seruant and Costard.

Bero.

Take away the Conquerour, take away Alisander.

Clow.

O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the Conque∣rour: you will be scrapt out of the painted cloth for this. Your Lion that holdes his Polax sitting on a close stoole, will be geuen to Aiax. He wilbe the ninth Worthie: a Con∣querour, and a feard to speake? Run away for shame Ali∣sander. There ant shall please you a foolish mylde man, an honest man; looke you, and soone dash••. He is marueylous good neighbour fayth, and a very good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see how tis a little oreparted, but there are Worthies a comming will speake their minde in some other sort.

Exit Curat.

Quee.

Stand aside good Pompey.

Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

Peda.

Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Clubb kilde Cerberus that three headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus, Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie, Ergo, I come with this Appologie. Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy.

Peda.

Iudas I am.

Dum.

A Iudas.

Pedan.

Not Iscariot sir. Iudas I am, ecliped Machabeus.

Dum.

Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.

Bero.

A kissing traytour. How art thou proud Iudas?

Peda.

Iudas I am.

Duma.

The more shame for you Iudas.

Peda.

What meane you sir?

Boyet.

To make Iudas hang him selfe.

Pedan.

Begin sir, you are my elder.

Bero.

Well folowed, Iudas was hanged on an Flder▪

Pedan.

I will not be put out of countenance.

Bero.

Because thou hast no face.

Pedan.

What is this?

Boyet.

A Cytterne head.

Duma.

The head of a Bodkin.

Bero.

A deaths face in a Ring.

Long.

The face of an olde Roman coyne, scarce seene.

Boyet.

The pummel of Caesars Fauchion.

Duma.

The carud-bone face on a Flaske.

Bero.

Saint Georges halfe cheeke in a Brooch.

Duma.

I and in a Brooch of Lead.

Bero.

I and worne in the cappe of a Tooth-drawer: And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance.

Peda.

You haue put me out of countenance.

Bero.

False, we haue giuen thee faces.

Peda.

But you haue outfaste them all.

Bero.

And thou weart a Lyon, we would do so.

Boyet.

Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go: And so adue sweete Iude. Nay, Why dost thou stay?

Duma.

For the latter ende of his name.

Bero.

For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Judas away▪

Pedan.

This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boyet.

A light for Mounsier Judas, it growes darke, he may stumble.

Quee.

Alas poore Machabeus, how hath he bin bayted.

Eeter Braggart.

Ber.

Hide thy head Achilles, here comes Hector in Armes.

Duma.

Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merrie.

King.

Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

Boyet.

But is this Hector?

King.

I thinke Hector was not so cleane timberd.

Long.

His Legge is too bigge for Hectors.

Duman.

More Calfe certaine.

Boye.

No, he is best indued in the small.

Bero.

This cannot be Hector.

Duma.

Hee's a God or a Painter: for he makes faces.

Braggart.

The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almightie, gaue Hector a gift.

Duma.

A gift Nutmegg.

Bero.

A Lemmon.

Long.

Stucke with Cloues.

Dum.

No clouen.

Brag.

Peace. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a gift, the heir of Illion, A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight; yea, From morne till night out of his Pauilion. I am that Flower.

Dum.

That Mint.

Long.

That Cullambine.

Brag.

Sweete Lord Longauill raine thy tongue.

Long.

I must rather giue it the raine: for it runnes against Hector.

Dum.

I and Hector's a Greyhound.

Brag.

The sweete War-man is dead and rotten, Sweete chucks beat not the bones of the buried: When he breathed he was a man: But I will forward with my deuice; sweete royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.

Berowne steps foorth.

Quee.

Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted.

Brag.

I do adore thy sweete Graces Slipper.

Boyet

Loues her by the foote.

Dum.

He may not by the yarde.

Brag.

This Hector far surmounted Hanniball,

The partie is gone.

Clow.

Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Brag.

What meanest thou?

Clow.

Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore wench is cast away: shee's quicke, the childe bragges in her bellie already: tis yours.

Brag.

Dost thou infamonize me among potentates: Thou shalt die.

Clow.

Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hangd for Pompey that is dead by him.

Duma.

Most rare Pompey.

Boyet.

Renowned Pompey.

Bero.

Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey: Pom∣pey the hudge.

Dum.

Hector trembles.

Bero.

Pompey is mooued more Ates more Atees stir them or stir them on.

Duma.

Hector will challenge him.

Bero.

I, if a'haue no more mans blood in his belly then w suppe a Flea.

Brag.

By the North Pole I do challenge thee.

Clow.

I will not fight with a Pole like a Northren man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the Sword: I bepray you let me bor∣row my Armes againe.

Duma.

Roome for the incensed Worthies.

Clow.

Ile do it in my shyrt.

Duma.

Most resolute Pompey.

Page.

Maister, let me take you a button hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is vncasing for the Combat: What meane you? you will loose your reputation.

Brag.

Gentlemen and Souldiers, pardon me, I will not combat in my shyrt.

Duma.

You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the chal∣lenge.

Brag.

Sweete bloodes, I both may and will.

Bero.

What reason haue you fort.

Brag.

The naked trueth of it is, I haue no Shirt. I goe Woolward for pennance.

Boy.

True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dish∣cloute of Jaquenetta••s, and that a weares next his hart for a Fauour.

Entèr a Messenger Mounsier Marcade.

Marcad.

God saue you Madame.

Quee.

Welcome Marcade, but that thou interrupptest our merriment.

Marcad.

I am sorrie Madame for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father

Quee.

Dead for my life.

Marcad.

Euen so: my tale is tolde.

Ber.

Worthies away, the Scaene begins to cloude.

Brag.

For mine owne part I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong through the litle hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt Worthys

King.

How fares your Maiestie?

Quee.

Boyet prepare, I will away to nyght.

King.

Madame Not so, I do beseech you stay.

Quee.

Prepare I say: I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and intreat: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirites, If ouerboldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenes Was guyltie of it.) Farewell worthy Lord: A heauie hart beares not a humble tongue. Excuse me so comming too short of thankes, For my great sute, so easely obtainde.

King.

The extreame partes of time extreamly formes, All causes to the purpose of his speede: And often at his very loose decides

That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smyling courtecie of Loue, The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since Loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloude of Sorrow iustle it From what it purposd, since to wayle friendes lost, Is not by much so holdsome profitable, As to reioyce at friendes but newly found.

Quee.

I vnderstand you not, my griefes are double.

Bero.

Honest plaine words, best pearce the eare of griefe, And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes, haue we neglected time. Plaide fouleplay with our othes: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humours Euen to the opposed ende of our ententes. And what in vs hath seemed rediculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Formd by the eye, and therefore like the eye. Full of straying shapes, of habites and of formes▪ Varying in subiectes as the eye doth roule. To euery varied obiect in his glaunce: Which partie coted presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eyes, Haue misbecombd our othes and grauities. Those heauenly eyes that looke into these faultes, Suggested vs to make, therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the errour that Loue makes Is likewise yours: we to our selues proue false, By being once falce, for euer to be true To those that make vs both faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe and turns to grace.

Quee.

We haue receiud your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, embassadours of Loue. And in our mayden counsaile rated them, At courtshyp pleasantiest and courtecie,

As bombast and as lyning to the time: But more deuout then this our respectes, Haue we not been, and therefore met your Loues, In their owne fashyon like a merriment.

Dum.

Our letters madame, shewed much more then iest.

Long.

So did our lookes.

Rosa.

We did not cote them so.

King.

Now at the latest minute of the houre, Graunt vs your loues.

Quee.

A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No no my Lord, your Grace is periurde much, Full of deare guiltines, and therefore this, If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me: Your oth I will not trust, but goe with speede To some forlorne and naked Hermytage, Remote from all the pleasurs of the world: There stay vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about the annuall reckoning. If ••his Austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood. If ••ro••••es and fastes, hard lodging, and thin weedes, Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue: But that it beare this tryall, and last Loue, Then at the expiration of the yeere, Come challenge me, challenge me by these desertes: And by ••his Virgin palme now kissing thine, I wi••be thine: and till that instance shutt My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Rayning the teares of lamentation, For the remembraunce of my Fathers death. If this thou do deny, let our hand••s part, Neither intiled in the others hart.

King.

If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The s••d••ine hand of death close vp mine eye. Hence herrite then my hart, is in thy brest.

Berow.

And what to me my Loue? and what to me?

Rosal.

You must be purged to, your sinnes are rackt. You are attaint with faultes and periurie: Therefore if you my fauour meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spende and neuer rest, But seeke the weery beddes of people sicke.

Duma.

But what to me my Loue? but what to me?

Kath.

A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie, With three folde loue I wish you all these three.

Duma.

O shall I say, I thanke you gentle Wife?

Kath.

Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no wordes that smothfast wooers say, Come when the King doth to my Lady come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some.

Duma.

Ile serue thee true and faythfully till then.

Kath.

Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen.

Longauill.

What saies Maria?

Mari.

At the tweluemonths ende, Ile change my blacke Gowne for a faithfull frend.

Long.

Ile stay with patience, but the time is long.

Mari.

The liker you, few taller are so young.

Berow.

Studdies my Ladie? Mistres looke on me, Beholde the window of my hart, mine eye: What humble suite attendes thy answere there, Impose some seruice on me for thy Loue.

Rosa.

Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worldes large tongue Proclaymes you for a man repleat with mockes, Full of comparisons and wounding floutes: Which you on all estetes will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wi•• To weede this wormewood from your fructfull braine, And therewithall to winne me, yf you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visite the speachlesse sicke, and still conuerse, With groning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,

To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

Berow.

To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie.

Rosal.

Why thats the way to choake a gibing spirrit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles, A iestes prosperitie lies in the eare, Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then if sickly eares Deaft with the clamours of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirrit, And I shall finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation.

Berow.

A tweluemonth? well; befall what will befall, Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall.

Queen.

I sweete my Lord, and so I take my leaue.

King.

No Madame, we will bring you on your way.

Berow.

Our wooing doth not ende like an olde Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might well haue made our sport a Comedie.

King.

Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth an' aday. And then twill ende.

Berow.

That's too long for a Play.

Enter Braggart.

Brag.

Sweete Maiestie vouchsafe me.

Queen.

Was not that Hector?

Duma.

The worthie Knight of Troy.

Brag.

I will kisse thy royall finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie; I haue vowde to Iaquenetta To holde the Plough for her sweete loue three yeere. But most esteemed greatnes, will you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in prayse of the Owle and the Cuckow? it should haue followed in the

ende of our shew.

King.

Call them foorth quickly, we will do so.

Brag.

Holla, Approch.

Enter all.

Brag.

This side is Hiems, Winter. This Ʋer, the Spring: The one maynteined by the Owle, th' other by the Cuckow.

B.

Ʋer begin.

The Song.

When Dasies pied, and Violets blew, And Cuckow-budds of yellow hew: And Ladi-smockes all siluer white, Do paint the Meadowes with delight: The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mocks married men; for thus singes hee, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare.

When Shepheards pipe on Oten Strawes, And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens Clocks: When Turtles tread and Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes: The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mockes married men, for thus singes he, Cuckow. Cuckow, cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare.

Winter.

When Isacles hang by the wall, And Dicke the Sheepheard blowes his naile: And Thom beares Logges into the hall, And Milke coms frozen home in paile: When Blood is nipt, and wayes be full,

Then nightly singes the staring Owle Tu-whit to-who. A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.

When all aloude the winde doth blow, And coffing drownes the Parsons saw▪ And Birdes sit brooding in the Snow, And Marrians nose lookes red and raw: When roasted Crabbs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly singes the staring Owle, Tu-whit to-who. A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.

The vvordes of Mercurie, are harsh after the songes of Apollo.

FINIS.