William Shakespeare - Ultimate Collection: Complete Plays & Poetry in One Volume. William Shakespeare

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.

       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 the squire,

       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 reckoning, 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 Pompion 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.

       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

       Die in the zeal of those 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 to him.]

       PRINCESS.

       Doth this man serve God?

       BEROWNE.

       Why ask you?

       PRINCESS.

       He 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.]

       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; Armado’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