William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (152 page)

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Authors: William Shakespeare

Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare

BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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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 Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.’
DULL Me, an’t shall please you. I am Anthony 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 heartburning heat of duty,
Don Adriano de Armado.’
BIRON This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.
KING Ay, the best for the worst. (
To Costard
) 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 damsel.
KING Well, it was proclaimed ‘damsel’.
COSTARD This was no damsel, 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’ will 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 Biron, see him delivered o’er,
And go we, lords, to put in practice that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
Exeunt the King, Longueville, and Dumaine
BIRON
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
1.2
Enter Armado and Mote, his page
 
ARMADO Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?
MOTE A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
ARMADO Why, sadness is one and the selfsame thing, dear imp.
MOTE No, no, O Lord, sir, no.
ARMADO How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?
MOTE By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough señor.
ARMADO Why ‘tough señor’? Why ‘tough señor’?
MOTE 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’.
MOTE And I, tough señor, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name ‘tough’.
ARMADO Pretty and apt.
MOTE How mean you, sir? I ‘pretty’ and my saying ‘apt’? Or I ‘apt’ and my saying ‘pretty’?
ARMADO Thou ‘pretty’, because little.
MOTE Little pretty, because little. Wherefore ‘apt’?
ARMADO And therefore ‘apt’ because quick.
MOTE Speak you this in my praise, master?
ARMADO In thy condign praise.
MOTE I will praise an eel with the same praise.
ARMADO What—that an eel is ingenious?
MOTE That an eel is quick.
ARMADO I do say thou art quick in answers. Thou heatest my blood.
MOTE I am answered, sir.
ARMADO I love not to be crossed.
MOTE (
aside)
He speaks the mere contrary-crosses love not him.
ARMADO I have promised to study three years with the Duke.
MOTE You may do it in an hour, sir.
ARMADO Impossible. - MOTE How many is one, thrice told?
ARMADO I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.
MOTE You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir. ARMADO I confess both. They are both the varnish of a complete man.
MOTE 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.
MOTE Which the base vulgar do call three.
ARMADO True.
MOTE Why, sir, is this such a piece of study ? Now here is ‘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.
MOTE (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 outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy. What great men have been in love?
MOTE 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.
MOTE 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 Mote?
MOTE A woman, master.
ARMADO Of what complexion ?
MOTE Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
ARMADO Tell me precisely of what complexion?
MOTE Of the sea-water green, sir.
ARMADO Is that one of the four complexions?
MOTE 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.
MOTE It was so, sir, for she had a green wit.
ARMADO My love is most immaculate white and red.
MOTE Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours.
ARMADO Define, define, well-educated infant.
MOTE My father’s wit and my mother’s tongue assist me!
ARMADO Sweet invocation of a child!—most pretty and pathetical.
MOTE 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?
MOTE 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.
MOTE (
aside
) To be whipped—and yet a better love than my master.
ARMADO Sing, boy. My spirit grows heavy in love.
MOTE And that’s great marvel, loving a light wench. ARMADO I say, sing.
MOTE Forbear till this company be past.
Enter Costard the clown, Constable Dull, and Jaquenetta, a wench
DULL (to Armado) 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 dey-woman. Fare you well.
ARMADO (
aside
) 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 thee.
JAQUENETTA So I heard you say.
ARMADO And so farewell.
JAQUENETTA Fair weather after you.
⌈DULL⌉ Come, Jaquenetta, away.
⌈
Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta
⌉
ARMADO Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.
COSTARD Well, sir, I hope when I do it I shall do it on a full stomach.
ARMADO Thou shalt be heavily punished.
COSTARD I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.
ARMADO Take away this villain. Shut him up.
MOTE Come, you transgressing slave. Away!
COSTARD Let me not be pent up, sir. I will fast, being loose.
MOTE No, sir. That were fast and loose. Thou shalt to prison.
COSTARD Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.
MOTE What shall some see?
COSTARD Nay, nothing, Master Mote, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing. I thank God I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet.
Exeunt Mote and Costard
ARMADO I do affect the very ground—which is base-where her shoe—which is baser—guided by her foot—which is basest—doth tread. I shall be forsworn—which is a great argument of falsehood-if I love. And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar; love is a devil. There is no evil angel but love. Yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength. Yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn: the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not. His disgrace is to be called boy, but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour; rust, rapier; be still, drum: for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes, in folio. Exit
2.1
Enter the Princess of France with three attending ladies-Maria, Catherine, and Rosaline-and three lords, one named Boyet
 
BOYET
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits.
Consider who the King your father sends,
To whom he sends, and what’s his embassy:
Yourself, held precious in the world’s esteem,
To parley with the sole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace
As nature was in making graces dear
When she did starve the general world beside
And prodigally gave them all to you.
PRINCESS
Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise.
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not uttered by base sale of chapmen’s tongues.
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,
You are not ignorant all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a vow
Till painful study shall outwear three years
No woman may approach his silent court.
Therefore to’s seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
Tell him the daughter of the King of France
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much while we attend,
Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.

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