The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

>Beauty doth varnish age, as if newborn, And gives the crutch the cradle’s infancy.

O, ‘tis the sun that maketh all things shine!

KING. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.

BEROWNE. Is ebony like her? O wood divine!

A wife of such wood were felicity.

O, who can give an oath? Where is a book?

That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, If that she learn not of her eye to look.

No face is fair that is not full so black.

KING. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the school of night; And beauty’s crest becomes the heavens well.

BEROWNE. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.

O, if in black my lady’s brows be deckt, It mourns that painting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect; And therefore is she born to make black fair.

Her favour turns the fashion of the days; For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red that would avoid dispraise Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.

DUMAIN. To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.

LONGAVILLE. And since her time are colliers counted bright.

KING. And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack.

DUMAIN. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.

BEROWNE. Your mistresses dare never come in rain For fear their colours should be wash’d away.

KING. ‘Twere good yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, I’ll find a fairer face not wash’d to-day.

BEROWNE. I’ll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.

KING. No devil will fright thee then so much as she.

DUMAIN. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.

LONGAVILLE. Look, here’s thy love: my foot and her face see.

[Showing his shoe]

BEROWNE. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!

DUMAIN. O vile! Then, as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walk’d overhead.

KING. But what of this? Are we not all in love?

BEROWNE. Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.

KING. Then leave this chat; and, good Berowne, now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.

DUMAIN. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.

LONGAVILLE. O, some authority how to proceed; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil!

DUMAIN. Some salve for perjury.

BEROWNE. ‘Tis more than need.

Have at you, then, affection’s men-at-arms.

Consider what you first did swear unto: To fast, to study, and to see no woman-Flat treason ‘gainst the kingly state of youth.

Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young, And abstinence engenders maladies.

And, where that you you have vow’d to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look?

For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study’s excellence Without the beauty of a woman’s face?

From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive: They are the ground, the books, the academes, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.

Why, universal plodding poisons up

The nimble spirits in the arteries,

As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller.

Now, for not looking on a woman’s face, You have in that forsworn the use of eyes, And study too, the causer of your vow; For where is author in the world

Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye?

Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are our learning likewise is; Then when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes, With ourselves.

Do we not likewise see our learning there?

O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books.

For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty’s tutors have enrich’d you with?

Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil; But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain, But with the motion of all elements

Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices.

It adds a precious seeing to the eye: A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind.

A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d.

Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails: Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste.

For valour, is not Love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?

Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair.

And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.

Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temp’red with Love’s sighs; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility.

From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive.

They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish, all the world, Else none at all in aught proves excellent.

Then fools you were these women to forswear; Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.

For wisdom’s sake, a word that all men love; Or for Love’s sake, a word that loves all men; Or for men’s sake, the authors of these women; Or women’s sake, by whom we men are men-Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths.

It is religion to be thus forsworn;

For charity itself fulfils the law,

And who can sever love from charity?

KING. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!

BEROWNE. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; Pell-mell, down with them! be first advis’d, In conflict, that you get the sun of them.

LONGAVILLE. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by.

Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?

KING. And win them too; therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents.

BEROWNE. First, from the park let us conduct them thither; Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.

KING. Away, away! No time shall be omitted That will betime, and may by us be fitted.

BEROWNE. Allons! allons! Sow’d cockle reap’d no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure.

Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. Exeunt

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ACT V. SCENE I.

The park

 

Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL

 

HOLOFERNES. Satis quod sufficit.

NATHANIEL. I praise God for you, sir. Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the King’s who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.

HOLOFERNES. Novi hominem tanquam te. His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.

NATHANIEL. A most singular and choice epithet.

[Draws out his table-book]

HOLOFERNES. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak ‘dout’ fine, when he should say ‘doubt’; ‘det’ when he should pronounce ‘debt’- d, e, b, t, not d, e, t.

He clepeth a calf ‘cauf,’ half ‘hauf’; neighbour vocatur ‘nebour’; ‘neigh’ abbreviated ‘ne.’ This is abhominable-which he would call ‘abbominable.’ It insinuateth me of insanie: ne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.

NATHANIEL. Laus Deo, bone intelligo.

HOLOFERNES. ‘Bone’?- ‘bone’ for ‘bene.’ Priscian a little scratch’d; ‘twill serve.

 

Enter ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD

 

NATHANIEL. Videsne quis venit?

HOLOFERNES. Video, et gaudeo.

ARMADO. [To MOTH] Chirrah!

HOLOFERNES. Quare ‘chirrah,’ not ‘sirrah’?

ARMADO. Men of peace, well encount’red.

HOLOFERNES. Most military sir, salutation.

MOTH. [Aside to COSTARD] They have been at a great feast of languages and stol’n the scraps.

COSTARD. O, they have liv’d long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou are not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus; thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.

MOTH. Peace! the peal begins.

ARMADO. [To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lett’red?

MOTH. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook. What is a, b, spelt backward with the horn on his head?

HOLOFERNES. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

MOTH. Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning.

HOLOFERNES. Quis, quis, thou consonant?

MOTH. The third of the five vowels, if You repeat them; or the fifth, if I.

HOLOFERNES. I will repeat them: a, e, I-MOTH. The sheep; the other two concludes it: o, U.

ARMADO. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit-snip, snap, quick and home. It rejoiceth my intellect. True wit!

MOTH. Offer’d by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.

HOLOFERNES. What is the figure? What is the figure?

MOTH. Horns.

HOLOFERNES. Thou disputes like an infant; go whip thy gig.

MOTH. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circum circa-a gig of a cuckold’s horn.

COSTARD. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread. Hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.

HOLOFERNES. O, I smell false Latin; ‘dunghill’ for unguem.

ARMADO. Arts-man, preambulate; we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?

HOLOFERNES. Or mons, the hill.

ARMADO. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.

HOLOFERNES. I do, sans question.

ARMADO. Sir, it is the King’s most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion, in the posteriors of this day; which the rude multitude call the afternoon.

HOLOFERNES. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable, for the afternoon. The word is well cull’d, chose, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure.

ARMADO. Sir, the King is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good friend. For what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy. I beseech thee, apparel thy head. And among other importunate and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too-but let that pass; for I must tell thee it will please his Grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal