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

in
manner and form following. Now, sir, for the manner,--it is the
manner of a man to speak to a woman, for the form,--in some form.

BEROWNE.
For the following, sir?

COSTARD.
As it shall follow in my correction; and God defend the right!

KING.
Will you hear this letter with attention?

BEROWNE.
As we would hear an oracle.

COSTARD.
Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.

KING.
'Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and sole dominator of
Navarre, my soul's earth's god and body's fostering patron,'

COSTARD.
Not a word of Costard yet.

KING.
'So it is,'--

COSTARD.
It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in telling
true, but so.--

KING.
Peace!

COSTARD.
Be to me, and every man that dares not fight!

KING.
No words!

COSTARD.
Of other men's secrets, I beseech you.

KING.
'So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I
did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome
physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook
myself to walk. The time when? About the sixth hour; when beasts
most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment
which is called supper: so much for the time when. Now for the
ground which; which, I mean, I upon; it is ycleped thy park. Then
for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene
and most preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white pen
the ebon-coloured ink which here thou viewest, beholdest,
surveyest, or seest. But to the place where, it standeth
north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy
curious-knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited swain,
that base minnow of thy mirth,'--

COSTARD.
Me.

KING.
'that unlettered small-knowing soul,'--

COSTARD.
Me.

KING.
'that shallow vassal,'--

COSTARD.
Still me.--

KING.
'which, as I remember, hight Costard,'--

COSTARD.
O me.

KING.
'sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed
edict and continent canon, with--with,--O! with but with this I
passion to say wherewith,'--

COSTARD.
With a wench.

KING.
'with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy
more sweet understanding, a woman. Him, I,--as my ever-esteemed
duty pricks me on,--have sent to thee, to receive the meed of
punishment, by thy sweet Grace's officer, Antony Dull, a man of
good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.'

DULL.
Me, an't please you; I am Antony Dull.

KING.
'For Jaquenetta,--so is the weaker vessel called, which I
apprehended with the aforesaid swain,--I keep her as a vessel of
thy law's fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice,
bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and
heart-burning heat of duty,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.'

BEROWNE.
This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I
heard.

KING.
Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to this?

COSTARD.
Sir, I confess the wench.

KING.
Did you hear the proclamation?

COSTARD.
I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the
marking of it.

KING.
It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment to be taken with a
wench.

COSTARD.
I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damosel.

KING.
Well, it was proclaimed 'damosel'.

COSTARD.
This was no damosel neither, sir; she was a 'virgin'.

KING.
It is so varied too; for it was proclaimed 'virgin'.

COSTARD.
If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.

KING.
This maid not serve your turn, sir.

COSTARD.
This maid will serve my turn, sir.

KING.
Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week
with bran and water.

COSTARD.
I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

KING.
And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him delivered o'er:
And go we, lords, to put in practice that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.

[Exeunt KING, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN.]

BEROWNE.
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
Sirrah, come on.

COSTARD.
I suffer for the truth, sir: for true it is I was taken
with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore
welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile
again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow!

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II. The park.

[Enter ARMADO and MOTH.]

ARMADO.
Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows
melancholy?

MOTH.
A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

ARMADO.
Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.

MOTH.
No, no; O Lord, sir, no.

ARMADO.
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender
juvenal?

MOTH.
By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.

ARMADO.
Why tough senior? Why tough senior?

MOTH.
Why tender juvenal? Why tender juvenal?

ARMADO.
I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton
appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.

MOTH.
And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your old
time, which we may name tough.

ARMADO.
Pretty and apt.

MOTH.
How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and
my saying pretty?

ARMADO.
Thou pretty, because little.

MOTH.
Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?

ARMADO.
And therefore apt, because quick.

MOTH.
Speak you this in my praise, master?

ARMADO.
In thy condign praise.

MOTH.
I will praise an eel with the same praise.

ARMADO.
What! That an eel is ingenious?

MOTH.
That an eel is quick.

ARMADO.
I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heat'st my blood.

MOTH.
I am answered, sir.

ARMADO.
I love not to be crossed.

MOTH.
[Aside] He speaks the mere contrary: crosses love not him.

ARMADO.
I have promised to study three years with the duke.

MOTH.
You may do it in an hour, sir.

ARMADO.
Impossible.

MOTH.
How many is one thrice told?


ARMADO.
I am ill at reck'ning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.

MOTH.
You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.

ARMADO.
I confess both: they are both the varnish of a complete man.

MOTH.
Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace
amounts to.

ARMADO.
It doth amount to one more than two.

MOTH.
Which the base vulgar do call three.

ARMADO.
True.

MOTH.
Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here's three
studied ere ye'll thrice wink; and how easy it is to put 'years'
to the word 'three,' and study three years in two words, the
dancing horse will tell you.

ARMADO.
A most fine figure!

MOTH.
[Aside] To prove you a cipher.

ARMADO.
I will hereupon confess I am in love; and as it is base for
a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing
my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from
the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and
ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised curtsy. I
think scorn to sigh: methinks I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort
me, boy: what great men have been in love?

MOTH.
Hercules, master.

ARMADO.
Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more;
and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

MOTH.
Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great
carriage, for he carried the town gates on his back like a
porter; and he was in love.

ARMADO.
O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee
in my rapier as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in
love too. Who was Samson's love, my dear Moth?

MOTH.
A woman, master.

ARMADO.
Of what complexion?

MOTH.
Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the
four.

ARMADO.
Tell me precisely of what complexion.

MOTH.
Of the sea-water green, sir.

ARMADO.
Is that one of the four complexions?

MOTH.
As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.

ARMADO.
Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love
of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He
surely affected her for her wit.

MOTH.
It was so, sir, for she had a green wit.

ARMADO.
My love is most immaculate white and red.

MOTH.
Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such
colours.

ARMADO.
Define, define, well-educated infant.

MOTH.
My father's wit my mother's tongue assist me!

ARMADO.
Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and pathetical!

MOTH.
If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale white shown.
Then if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheeks possess the same
Which native she doth owe.
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red.

ARMADO.
Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

MOTH.
The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages
since; but I think now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it
would neither serve for the writing nor the tune.

ARMADO.
I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may
example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love
that country girl that I took in the park with the rational hind
Costard: she deserves well.

MOTH.
[Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better love than my master.

ARMADO.
Sing, boy: my spirit grows heavy in love.

MOTH.
And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.

ARMADO.
I say, sing.

MOTH.
Forbear till this company be past.

[Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA.]

DULL.
Sir, the Duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe: and
you must suffer him to take no delight nor no penance; but a'
must fast three days a week. For this damsel, I must keep her at
the park; she is allowed for the day-woman. Fare you well.

ARMADO.
I do betray myself with blushing. Maid!

JAQUENETTA.
Man?

ARMADO.
I will visit thee at the lodge.

JAQUENETTA.
That's hereby.

ARMADO.
I know where it is situate.

JAQUENETTA.
Lord, how wise you are!

ARMADO.
I will tell thee wonders.

JAQUENETTA.
With that face?

ARMADO.
I love