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

more to dance, Nor never more in Russian habit wait.

O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d, Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue, Nor never come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song.

Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Threepil’d hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical-these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.

I do forswear them; and I here protest, By this white glove-how white the hand, God knows!-

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes.

And, to begin, wench-so God help me, law!-

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

ROSALINE. Sans ‘sans,’ I pray you.

BEROWNE. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage; bear with me, I am sick; I’ll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see-Write ‘Lord have mercy on us’ on those three; They are infected; in their hearts it lies; They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes.

These lords are visited; you are not free, For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.

BEROWNE. Our states are forfeit; seek not to undo us.

ROSALINE. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

BEROWNE. Peace; for I will not have to do with you.

ROSALINE. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

BEROWNE. Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.

KING. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. The fairest is confession.

Were not you here but even now, disguis’d?

KING. Madam, I was.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. And were you well advis’d?

KING. I was, fair madam.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?

KING. That more than all the world I did respect her.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

KING. Upon mine honour, no.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Peace, peace, forbear; Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

KING. Despise me when I break this oath of mine.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I will; and therefore keep it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

ROSALINE. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eyesight, and did value me Above this world; adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. God give thee joy of him! The noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word.

KING. What mean you, madam? By my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath.

ROSALINE. By heaven, you did; and, to confirm it plain, You gave me this; but take it, sir, again.

KING. My faith and this the Princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear.

What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

BEROWNE. Neither of either; I remit both twain.

I see the trick on’t: here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To dash it like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick To make my lady laugh when she’s dispos’d, Told our intents before; which once disclos’d, The ladies did change favours; and then we, Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.

Now, to our perjury to add more terror, We are again forsworn in will and error.

Much upon this it is; [To BOYET] and might not you Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?

Do not you know my lady’s foot by th’ squier, And laugh upon the apple of her eye?

And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

You put our page out. Go, you are allow’d; Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.

You leer upon me, do you? There’s an eye Wounds like a leaden sword.

BOYET. Full merrily

Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.

BEROWNE. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have done.

 

Enter COSTARD

 

Welcome, pure wit! Thou part’st a fair fray.

COSTARD. O Lord, sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no?

BEROWNE. What, are there but three?

COSTARD. No, sir; but it is vara fine,

For every one pursents three.

BEROWNE. And three times thrice is nine.

COSTARD. Not so, sir; under correction, sir, I hope it is not so.

You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know;

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir—

BEROWNE. Is not nine.

COSTARD. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

BEROWNE. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

COSTARD. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reck’ning, sir.

BEROWNE. How much is it?

COSTARD. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount. For mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

BEROWNE. Art thou one of the Worthies?

COSTARD. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great; for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy; but I am to stand for him.

BEROWNE. Go, bid them prepare.

COSTARD. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.

Exit COSTARD

KING. Berowne, they will shame us; let them not approach.

BEROWNE. We are shame-proof, my lord, and ‘tis some policy To have one show worse than the King’s and his company.

KING. I say they shall not come.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now.

That sport best pleases that doth least know how; Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it presents.

Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth.

BEROWNE. A right description of our sport, my lord.

 

Enter ARMADO

 

ARMADO. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

[Converses apart with the KING, and delivers a paper]

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Doth this man serve God?

BEROWNE. Why ask you?

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. ‘A speaks not like a man of God his making.

ARMADO. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, too too vain; but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

Exit ARMADO

KING. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Arinado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus.

And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits and present the other five.

BEROWNE. There is five in the first show.

KING. You are deceived, ‘tis not so.

BEROWNE. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy:

Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

KING. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

 

Enter COSTARD, armed for POMPEY

 

COSTARD. I Pompey am—

BEROWNE. You lie, you are not he.

COSTARD. I Pompey am—

BOYET. With libbard’s head on knee.

BEROWNE. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

COSTARD. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam’d the Big-DUMAIN. 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 bere 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 OF FRANCE. 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, 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 OF FRANCE. 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 scrap’d out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion, that holds his poleaxe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror and afeard to speak! Run away for shame, Alisander.

[Sir Nathaniel retires] There, an’t shall please you, a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash’d. 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 OF FRANCE. Stand aside, good Pompey.

 

Enter HOLOFERNES, for JUDAS; and MOTH, for HERCULES

 

HOLOFERNES. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And when be 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—

DUMAIN. A Judas!

HOLOFERNES. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.

DUMAIN. Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.

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

HOLOFERNES. Judas I am—

DUMAIN. 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 followed: 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.

DUMAIN. 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 Coesar’s falchion.

DUMAIN. The carv’d-bone face on a flask.

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

DUMAIN. 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 outfac’d 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?

DUMAIN. 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.

[HOLOFERNES retires]

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

 

Enter ARMADO, for HECTOR

 

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

DUMAIN. Though my mocks come home by me, I