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Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of complete man.
Moth. Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.
Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth. Which the base vulgar do call three.
Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is three studied, ere you'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.
Arm. A most fine figure!
Moth. To prove you a cipher.
Arm. 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 humor 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 courtesy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy. What great men have been in love?
Moth. Hercules, master.
Arm. Most sweet Hercules!-More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.
Moth. 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.
Arm. 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 Moth?
Moth. A woman, master.
Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion?
Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir.
Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?
Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them
Arm. Green, indeed, is the color of lovers; but to have a love of that color, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit.
Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.
Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colors.
Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.
Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me! Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and pathetical!
Moth. If she be made of white and red,
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red.
Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?
Moth. 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.
Arm. I will have the 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.
Moth. To be whipped; and yet a better love than my [Aside.
Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. Arm. I say, sing.
Moth. Forbear till this company be past.
Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA.
Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe; and you must let him 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 day-woman. Fare you well.
Arm. I do betray myself with blushing.-Maid-
Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.
Arm. I know where it is situate.
Jaq. With that face?
Jaq. So I heard you say.
[Exeunt DULL and JAQUENetta. Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, ere thou be pardoned.
Cost. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.
Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished.
Cost. I am more bound to you, than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.
Arm. Take away this villain. Shut him up. Moth. Come, you transgressing slave; away. Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast, being loose.
Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose. Thou shalt to prison.
Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see
Moth. What shall some see?
Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, 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 MOTH and CoSTARD.
Arm. 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 Samson was 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, valor! 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 sonnetteer. Devise, wit! write, pen! for I am for whole volumes in folio.
SCENE I. Another part of the same. A Pavilion and Tents at a distance..
Enter the Princess of France, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, and other Attendants.
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 Aquitain; 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.
Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise. Beauty is bought by judgment 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 out-wear three years, No woman may approach his silent court. Therefore to us 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 despatch, Impórtunes personal conference with his grace. Haste, signify so much; while we attend, Like humbly-visaged suitors, his high will.
Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. Prin. All pride is willing pride; and yours is so.— Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?
1 Lord. Longaville is one.
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville.
Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? Mar. They say so most, that most his humors know. Prin. Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?
Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplished youth,
Ros. Another of these students at that time
Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love, That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
Mar. Here comes Boyet.
Now, what admittance, lord?