Love's Labour's Lost Part 13

KING. Fair sir, G.o.d save you! Where's the Princess?

BOYET. Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty Command me any service to her thither?

KING. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

BOYET. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. Exit BEROWNE. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease, And utters it again when G.o.d doth please.

He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes, and wa.s.sails, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.

'A can carve too, and lisp; why this is he That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy; This is the ape of form, Monsieur the Nice, That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice In honourable terms; nay, he can sing A mean most meanly; and in ushering, Mend him who can. The ladies call him sweet; The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.

This is the flow'r that smiles on every one, To show his teeth as white as whales-bone; And consciences that will not die in debt Pay him the due of 'honey-tongued Boyet.'

KING. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part!

Re-enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE

BEROWNE. See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou Till this man show'd thee? And what art thou now?

KING. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive.

KING. Construe my speeches better, if you may.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Then wish me better; I will give you leave.

KING. We came to visit you, and purpose now To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow: Nor G.o.d, nor I, delights in perjur'd men.

KING. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke.

The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. You nickname virtue: vice you should have spoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.

Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths, vowed with integrity.

KING. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late.

KING. How, madam! Russians!

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courts.h.i.+p and of state.

ROSALINE. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord.

My lady, to the manner of the days, In courtesy gives undeserving praise.

We four indeed confronted were with four In Russian habit; here they stayed an hour And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word.

I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

BEROWNE. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet, With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light; your capacity Is of that nature that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.

ROSALINE. This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye- BEROWNE. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

ROSALINE. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to s.n.a.t.c.h words from my tongue.

BEROWNE. O, I am yours, and all that I possess.

ROSALINE. All the fool mine?

BEROWNE. I cannot give you less.

ROSALINE. Which of the vizards was it that you wore?

BEROWNE. Where? when? what vizard? Why demand you this?

ROSALINE. There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case That hid the worse and show'd the better face.

KING. We were descried; they'll mock us now downright.

DUMAIN. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your Highness sad?

ROSALINE. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale?

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

BEROWNE. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.

Can any face of bra.s.s hold longer out?

Here stand I, lady- dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout, Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance, Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never 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 school-boy'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, Three-pil'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, G.o.d knows!- Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes.

And, to begin, wench- so G.o.d 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. G.o.d give thee joy of him! The n.o.ble 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 d.i.c.k, 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.