Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus! O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts; And such barren plants are set before us, that we (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good Dan Dull. Dull. What is Dictynna? Nath. A title to Fhæbe, to Luna, to the moon. was no more; And raught not to five weeks, when he came to fivescore. The allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange. Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange. Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess kill'd, a pricket. Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility. The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket; Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell; put I to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket; Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting. If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; 0 sore L! Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but onc more L. Nath. A rare talent! Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent. Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you you are a good member of the commonwealth. Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them: But, vir sapit, qui pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. · Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Horace says in his- What, my soul, verses? Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege, domine. Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue! one o' my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss | rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath the accent let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Jap. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords. To the Hol. I will overglance the superscript. snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto : Your Ladyship's in all desired employment, BIRON. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. - Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much: Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu. Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. - - Sir, God save your life! Cost. Have with thee, my girl. [Exeunt Cost. and Jaq. done this in the fear of and, as a certain father Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses; Did they please you, sir Nathaniel ? Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society. Nath. And thank you too: for society, (saith the text,) is the happiness of life. Enter BIRON, with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, Set thee down, sorrow! for so they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well proved again on my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will not. O, but her eye, by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my Enter the KING, with a paper. King. Ah me! Biron. [Aside.] Shot by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy birdbolt under the left pap: - I'faith secrets. King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, Through the transparent bosom of the deep, And they thy glory through my grief will show: Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper. Wha, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. Long. Ah me! I am forsworn. papers. [Aside. [Aside. King. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in shame! Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. [Aside. Long. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so? Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know: Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner cap of society, The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up sim Vous are but breath, and breath a vapour is: If broken then, it is no fault of mine; Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity: A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way. Enter DUMAIN, with a paper. Long. By whom shall I send this? Company! stay. [Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play: Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. O most prophane coxcomb! Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! Biron. By earth she is but corporal: there you lie. [Aside. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted. Dum. As upright as the cedar. Biron. Her shoulder is with child. shine. Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. [Aside. Stoop, I say; [Aside. Dum. As fair as day. Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must [Anue. And I had mine! [Aside. King. And I mine too, good lord! Aside. Biron. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? [Aside. Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then incision Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision! Dum. O that I had my wish! [Aside. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. [Aside. Dum. On a day, (alack the day!) Love, whose month is ever May, Thou for whom even Jove would swear, And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. This will I send; and something else more plain, Long. Dumain, [advancing.] thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desir'st society: You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, King. Come, sir, [advancing.] you blush; as his your case is such ; You chide at him, offending twice as much : [TO LONG. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [TO DUMAIN. What will Birón say, when that he shall hear I would not have him know so much by me. [Descends from the tree King. Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you: M S Cost. Some certain treason. What makes treason here? Jaq. Of Costard. King. Where hadst thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it; Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs not fear it. Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [to CosTARD.] you were born to do me shame. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. King. What? Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess; He, he, and you, my liege, and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. True, true; we are four: - Hence, sirs; away. Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [Exeunt Cost. and JAQUENET. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us em brace! As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood will not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty ? King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón: Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek ; Where several worthies make one dignity; Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fye, painted rhetorick! O, she needs it not: To things of sale a seller's praise belongs; She passes praise: then praise too short dotk A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, 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 scowl of night: And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. Biron. 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. Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black. Long. And, since her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. 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. Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day here. King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. Long. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her [Showing his shoe. Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine face see. Biron. O, '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 have vow'd to study, lords, As motion, and long during-action, tires Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? For charity itself fulfils the law; And who can sever love from charity? King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field! Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis'd, Long. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by; Then, homeward, every man attach the hand ACT V. Hol. 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. Nath. A most singular and choice epithet. [Takes out his table book. Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical fantasms, such insociable and point-devise companions; such reckers of orthography, as |