Love's Labour's Lost, William Shakespeare [best summer reads of all time .txt] 📗

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COSTARD.
'I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the Big'--

DUMAINE.
'The Great.'

COSTARD.
It is 'Great,' sir; 'Pompey surnam'd the Great,
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to
sweat:
And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.
If your ladyship would say 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done.

PRINCESS.
Great thanks, great Pompey.

COSTARD.
'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect.
I made a little fault in 'Great.'

BEROWNE.
My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

[Enter SIR NATHANIEL armed, for ALEXANDER.]

NATHANIEL.
'When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:
My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander'--

BOYET.
Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands to right.

BEROWNE.
Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight.

PRINCESS.
The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.

NATHANIEL.
'When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;'--

BOYET.
Most true; 'tis right, you were so, Alisander.

BEROWNE.
Pompey the Great,--

COSTARD.
Your servant, and Costard.

BEROWNE.
Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

COSTARD.
[To Sir Nathaniel.] O! sir, you have overthrown Alisander
the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for
this; your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a
close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy.
A conqueror, and afeard to speak! Run away for shame, Alisander.
[Nathaniel retires.] There, an't shall please you: a foolish mild
man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed! He is a marvellous
good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler; but for
Alisander,--alas! you see how 'tis--a little o'erparted. But
there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other
sort.

PRINCESS.
Stand aside, good Pompey.

[Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for JUDAS; and MOTH armed, for
HERCULES.]

HOLOFERNES.
'Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canis;
And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.
Quoniam he seemeth in minority,
Ergo I come with this apology.'
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.--[MOTH retires.]
'Judas I am.'--

DUMAINE.
A Judas!

HOLOFERNES.
Not Iscariot, sir.
'Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.'

DUMAINE.
Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.

BEROWNE.
A kissing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas?

HOLOFERNES.
'Judas I am.'--

DUMAINE.
The more shame for you, Judas.

HOLOFERNES.
What mean you, sir?

BOYET.
To make Judas hang himself.

HOLOFERNES.
Begin, sir; you are my elder.

BEROWNE.
Well follow'd: Judas was hanged on an elder.

HOLOFERNES.
I will not be put out of countenance.

BEROWNE.
Because thou hast no face.

HOLOFERNES.
What is this?

BOYET.
A cittern-head.

DUMAINE.
The head of a bodkin.

BEROWNE.
A death's face in a ring.


LONGAVILLE.
The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

BOYET.
The pommel of Caesar's falchion.

DUMAINE.
The carved-bone face on a flask.

BEROWNE.
Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch.

DUMAINE.
Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

BEROWNE.
Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.
And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

HOLOFERNES.
You have put me out of countenance.

BEROWNE.
False: we have given thee faces.

HOLOFERNES.
But you have outfaced them all.

BEROWNE.
An thou wert a lion we would do so.

BOYET.
Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

DUMAINE.
For the latter end of his name.

BEROWNE.
For the ass to the Jude? give it him:--Jud-as, away!

HOLOFERNES.
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

BOYET.
A light for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark, he may stumble.

PRINCESS.
Alas! poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited.

[Enter ARMADO armed, for HECTOR.]

BEROWNE.
Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.

DUMAINE.
Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

KING.
Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

BOYET.
But is this Hector?

DUMAINE.
I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd.

LONGAVILLE.
His leg is too big for Hector's.

DUMAINE.
More calf, certain.

BOYET.
No; he is best indued in the small.

BEROWNE.
This cannot be Hector.

DUMAINE.
He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

ARMADO.
'The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,'--

DUMAINE.
A gilt nutmeg.

BEROWNE.
A lemon.

LONGAVILLE.
Stuck with cloves.

DUMAINE.
No, cloven.

ARMADO.
Peace!
'The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breath'd that certain he would fight ye,
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,'--

DUMAINE.
That mint.

LONGAVILLE.
That columbine.

ARMADO.
Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

LONGAVILLE.
I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

DUMAINE.
Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

ARMADO.
The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat
not the bones of the buried; when he breathed, he was a man. But
I will forward with my device. [To the PRINCESS.] Sweet royalty,
bestow on me the sense of hearing.

PRINCESS.
Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.

ARMADO.
I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper.

BOYET.
[Aside to DUMAIN.] Loves her by the foot.

DUMAINE.
[Aside to BOYET.] He may not by the yard.

ARMADO.
'This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,'--

COSTARD.
The party is gone; fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two
months on her way.

ARMADO.
What meanest thou?

COSTARD.
Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench
is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already;
'tis yours.

ARMADO.
Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.

COSTARD.
Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by
him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.

DUMAINE.
Most rare Pompey!

BOYET.
Renowned Pompey!

BEROWNE.
Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the
Huge!

DUMAINE.
Hector trembles.

BEROWNE.
Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! Stir them on! stir
them on!

DUMAINE.
Hector will challenge him.

BEROWNE.
Ay, if a' have no more man's blood in his belly than will
sup a flea.

ARMADO.
By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

COSTARD.
I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: I'll
slash; I'll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my
arms again.

DUMAINE.
Room for the incensed Worthies!

COSTARD.
I'll do it in my shirt.

DUMAINE.
Most resolute Pompey!

MOTH.
Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you not see
Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose
your reputation.

ARMADO.
Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

DUMAINE.
You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

ARMADO.
Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

BEROWNE.
What reason have you for 't?

ARMADO.
The naked truth of it is: I have no shirt; I go woolward
for penance.

BOYET.
True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen;
since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dish-clout of
Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next his heart for a favour.

[Enter MONSIEUR MARCADE, a messenger.]

MARCADE.
God save you, madam!

PRINCESS.
Welcome, Marcade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

MARCADE.
I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father--

PRINCESS.
Dead, for my life!

MARCADE.
Even so: my tale is told.

BEROWNE.
Worthies away! the scene begins to cloud.

ARMADO.
For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the
day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will
right myself like a soldier.

[Exeunt WORTHIES.]

KING.
How fares your Majesty?

PRINCESS.
Boyet, prepare: I will away to-night.

KING.
Madam, not so: I do beseech you stay.

PRINCESS.
Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath; your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

KING.
The extreme parts of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed,
And often at his very loose decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome-profitable
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

PRINCESS.
I understand you not: my griefs are double.

BEROWNE.
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,--
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes that look into these faults
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,--fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.

PRINCESS.
We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time;
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their