William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (154 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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BOYET
If my observation, which very seldom lies,
By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
PRINCESS With what?
BOYET
With that which we lovers entitle ‘affected’.
PRINCESS Your reason?
BOYET
Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His heart like an agate with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed.
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be.
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair.
Methought all his senses were locked in his eye,
As jewels in crystal, for some prince to buy,
Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glassed,
Did point you to buy them along as you passed.
His face’s own margin did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I’ll give you Aquitaine and all that is his
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His heart like an agate with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed.
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be.
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair.
Methought all his senses were locked in his eye,
As jewels in crystal, for some prince to buy,
Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glassed,
Did point you to buy them along as you passed.
His face’s own margin did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I’ll give you Aquitaine and all that is his
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
PRINCESS
Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed.
BOYET
But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclosed.
I only have made a mouth of his eye
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie.
I only have made a mouth of his eye
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie.
⌈ROSALINE⌉
Thou art an old love-monger, and speak’st skilfully.
⌈MARIA⌉
He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him.
⌈CATHERINE⌉
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
BOYET
Do you hear, my mad wenches?
⌈MARIA⌉
No.
BOYET
What then, do you see?
⌈CATHERINE⌉
Ay—our way to be gone.
BOYET
You are too hard for me.
Exeunt
3.1Enter Armado the braggart, and Mote his boy
ARMADO Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
MOTE (
sings
) Concolinel.
sings
) Concolinel.
ARMADO Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years, take this key. Give enlargement to the swain. Bring him festinately hither. I must employ him in a letter to my love.
MOTE Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
ARMADO How meanest thou—brawling in French?
MOTE No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue’s end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throat as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose as if you snuffed up love by smelling love, with your hat penthouse-like o’er the shop of your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket like a man after the old painting, and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betrayed without these, and make them men of note—do you note?
men
—that most are affected to these.
men
—that most are affected to these.
ARMADO How hast thou purchased this experience?
MOTE By my penny of observation.
ARMADO But O, but O-
MOTE ‘The hobby-horse is forgot.’
ARMADO Call’st thou my love hobby-horse ?
MOTE No, master, the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
ARMADO Almost I had.
MOTE Negligent student, learn her by heart.
ARMADO By heart and in heart, boy.
MOTE And out of heart, master. All those three I will prove. 36
ARMADO What wilt thou prove?
MOTE A man, if I live; and this, ‘by’, ‘in’, and ‘without’, upon the instant: ‘by’ heart you love her because your heart cannot come
by
her; ‘in’ heart you love her because your heart is
in
love with her; and ‘out’ of heart you love her, being
out
of heart that you cannot enjoy her.
by
her; ‘in’ heart you love her because your heart is
in
love with her; and ‘out’ of heart you love her, being
out
of heart that you cannot enjoy her.
ARMADO I am all these three.
MOTE (
aside
) And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
aside
) And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
ARMADO Fetch hither the swain. He must carry me a letter.
MOTE (
aside
) A message well sympathized—a horse to be ambassador for an ass.
aside
) A message well sympathized—a horse to be ambassador for an ass.
ARMADO Ha, ha! What sayst thou?
MOTE Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.
ARMADO The way is but short. Away!
MOTE As swift as lead, sir. 55
ARMADO The meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ?
MOTE
Minime,
honest master—or rather, master, no.
honest master—or rather, master, no.
ARMADO
I say lead is slow.
MOTE You are too swift, sir, to say so.
Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
ARMADO Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon, and the bullet, that’s he.
I shoot thee at the swain.
I shoot thee at the swain.
MOTE Thump, then, and I flee.
Exit
ARMADO
A most acute juvenal—voluble and free of grace.
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is returned.
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is returned.
Enter Mote the page, and Costard the clown
MOTE
A wonder, master—here’s a costard broken in a shin.
ARMADO
Some enigma, some riddle; come, thy
l’envoi.
Begin.
l’envoi.
Begin.
COSTARD No egma, no riddle, no
l‘envoi,
no salve in the mail, sir. O sir, plantain, a plain plantain—no
l’envoi,
no
l’envoi,
no salve, sir, but a plantain.
l‘envoi,
no salve in the mail, sir. O sir, plantain, a plain plantain—no
l’envoi,
no
l’envoi,
no salve, sir, but a plantain.
ARMADO By virtue, thou enforcest laughter—thy silly thought my spleen. The heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for
l‘envoi,
and the word
l’envoi
for a salve?
l‘envoi,
and the word
l’envoi
for a salve?
MOTE
Do the wise think them other? Is not
l’envoi
a salve ?
l’envoi
a salve ?
ARMADO
No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it. so
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it. so
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three.
There’s the moral. Now the
/’envoi.
/’envoi.
MOTE I will add the
l’envoi.
Say the moral again.
l’envoi.
Say the moral again.
ARMADO The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three.
MOTE Until the goose came out of door
And stayed the odds by adding four.
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my
l’envoi.
l’envoi.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three.
ARMADO Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.
MOTE A good
l’envoi,
ending in the goose. Would you desire more?
l’envoi,
ending in the goose. Would you desire more?
COSTARD
The boy hath sold him a bargain—a goose, that’s flat.
Sir, your pennyworth is good an your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
Let me see, a fat
l’envoi-ay,
that’s a fat goose.
Sir, your pennyworth is good an your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
Let me see, a fat
l’envoi-ay,
that’s a fat goose.
ARMADO
Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
MOTE
By saying that a costard was broken in a shin.
Then called you for the
l’envoi.
Then called you for the
l’envoi.
COSTARD True, and I for a plantain. Thus came your argument in. Then the boy’s fat
l’envoi,
the goose that you bought, and he ended the market.
l’envoi,
the goose that you bought, and he ended the market.
ARMADO But tell me, how was there a costard broken in a shin?
MOTE I will tell you sensibly.
COSTARD Thou hast no feeling of it. Mote, I will speak that
l’envoi.
l’envoi.
I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.
Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.
ARMADO We will talk no more of this matter.
COSTARD Till there be more matter in the shin.
ARMADO Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
COSTARD O, marry me to one Frances! I smell some
l’envoi,
some goose, in this.
l’envoi,
some goose, in this.
ARMADO By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person. Thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.
COSTARD True, true, and now you will be my purgation and let me loose.
ARMADO I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant to the country maid, Jaquenetta. (
Giving him a letter
) There is remuneration (
giving him money
), for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependants. Mote, follow.
Exit
Giving him a letter
) There is remuneration (
giving him money
), for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependants. Mote, follow.
Exit
MOTE
Like the sequel, I. Signor Costard, adieu.
Exit
Exit
COSTARD
My sweet ounce of man’s flesh, my incony Jew!
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration—
O, that’s the Latin word for three-farthings. Three
farthings—remuneration. ‘What’s the price of this
inkle?’ ‘One penny.’ ‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration.’
Why, it carries it! Remuneration! Why, it is a fairer
name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out
of this word.
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration—
O, that’s the Latin word for three-farthings. Three
farthings—remuneration. ‘What’s the price of this
inkle?’ ‘One penny.’ ‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration.’
Why, it carries it! Remuneration! Why, it is a fairer
name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out
of this word.
Enter Biron
BIRON My good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.
COSTARD Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?
BIRON What is a remuneration?
COSTARD Marry, sir, halfpenny-farthing.
BIRON Why, then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
COSTARD I thank your worship. God be wi’ you.
BIRON Stay, slave, I must employ thee.
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
COSTARD When would you have it done, sir?
BIRON This afternoon.
CUSTARD Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well.
BIRON Thou knowest not what it is.
CUSTARD I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
BIRON Why, villain, thou must know first.
COSTARD I will come to your worship tomorrow morning.
BIRON
It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave,
It is but this:
The Princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady.
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her
name,
And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her,
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This sealed-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon (
giving
him a letter and money
), go.
It is but this:
The Princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady.
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her
name,
And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her,
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This sealed-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon (
giving
him a letter and money
), go.
COSTARD Guerdon! O sweet guerdon!—better than remuneration, elevenpence-farthing better—most sweet guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print. Guerdon—remuneration.
Exit
Exit
BIRON
And I, forsooth, in love—I that have been love’s whip,
A very beadle to a humorous sigh,
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o‘er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent.
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This Signor Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th’anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting paritors—O my little heart!
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop!
What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife?—
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watched that it may still go right.
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all,
And among three to love the worst of all—
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes—
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her—go to, it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.
Exit
A very beadle to a humorous sigh,
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o‘er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent.
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This Signor Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th’anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting paritors—O my little heart!
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop!
What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife?—
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watched that it may still go right.
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all,
And among three to love the worst of all—
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes—
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her—go to, it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.
Exit
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