Love's Labour's Lost · Chapter 5Part 5
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Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain. Enter Pompey.
Clo. I Pompey am
Ber. You lie, you are not he
Clo. I Pompey am
Boy. With Libbards head on knee
Ber. Well said old mocker, I must needs be friends with thee
Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big
Du. The great
Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great: That oft in field, with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat: And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance, And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of France. If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done
La. Great thankes great Pompey
Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in great
Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie. Enter Curate for Alexander.
Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander: By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander
Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not: For it stands too right
Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight
Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid: Proceede good Alexander
Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander
Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander
Ber. Pompey the great
Clo. your seruant and Costard
Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort.
Exit Cu.
Qu. Stand aside good Pompey. Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie, Ergo, I come with this Apologie. Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.
Exit Boy
Ped. Iudas I am
Dum. A Iudas? Ped. Not Iscariot sir. Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus
Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas
Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas? Ped. Iudas I am
Dum. The more shame for you Iudas
Ped. What meane you sir? Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe
Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder
Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder
Ped. I will not be put out of countenance
Ber. Because thou hast no face
Ped. What is this? Boi. A Citterne head
Dum. The head of a bodkin
Ber. A deaths face in a ring
Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene
Boi. The pummell of C├Žsars Faulchion
Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske
Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch
Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead
Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance Ped. You haue put me out of countenance
Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces
Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all
Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so
Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go: And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name
Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away
Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble
Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he may stumble
Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene baited. Enter Braggart.
Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in Armes
Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merrie
King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this
Boi. But is this Hector? Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd
Lon. His legge is too big for Hector
Dum. More Calfe certaine
Boi. No, he is best indued in the small
Ber. This cannot be Hector
Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces
Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a gift
Dum. A gilt Nutmegge
Ber. A Lemmon
Lon. Stucke with Cloues
Dum. No clouen
Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion; A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea From morne till night, out of his Pauillion. I am that Flower
Dum. That Mint
Long. That Cullambine
Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue
Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against Hector
Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound
Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten, Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried: But I will forward with my deuice; Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.
Berowne steppes forth.
Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted
Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper
Boy. Loues her by the foot
Dum. He may not by the yard
Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball. The partie is gone
Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths on her way
Brag. What meanest thou? Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly alreadie: tis yours
Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die
Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him
Dum. Most rare Pompey
Boi. Renowned Pompey
Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the huge
Dum. Hector trembles
Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre them on
Dum. Hector will challenge him
Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea
Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee
Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe
Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies
Clo. Ile do it in my shirt
Dum. Most resolute Pompey
Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your reputation
Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt
Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the challenge
Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will
Ber. What reason haue you for't? Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt, I go woolward for penance
Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour. Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.
Mar. God saue you Madame
Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment
Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father Qu. Dead for my life
Mar. Euen so: My tale is told
Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud
Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
Exeunt. Worthies
Kin. How fare's your Maiestie? Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night
Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay
Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirits, If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so easily obtain'd
Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the purpose of his speed: And often at his verie loose decides That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue: The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so wholsome profitable, As to reioyce at friends but newly found
Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double
Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors Euen to the opposed end of our intents. And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied obiect in his glance: Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies, Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities. Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace
Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue. And in our maiden counsaile rated them, At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As bumbast and as lining to the time: But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment
Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest
Lon. So did our lookes
Rosa. We did not coat them so
Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre, Grant vs your loues
Qu. A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me. Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning. If this austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue, But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of the yeare, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Raining the teares of lamentation, For the remembrance of my Fathers death. If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the others hart
Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie. Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest
Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd. You are attaint with faults and periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke
Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me? Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie, With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three
Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife? Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say. Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some
Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then
Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen
Lon. What saies Maria? Mari. At the tweluemonths end, Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend
Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long
Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong
Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eie: What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me for my loue
Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes, Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wit. To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile
Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie
Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation
Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall, Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall
Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue
King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way
Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie
Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day, And then 'twil end
Ber. That's too long for a play. Enter Braggart.
Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me
Qu. Was not that Hector? Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy
Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew
Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so
Brag. Holla, Approach. Enter all.
This side is Hiems, Winter. This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle, Th' other by the Cuckow. Ver, begin.
The Song.
When Dasies pied, and Violets blew, And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew: And Ladie-smockes all siluer white, Do paint the Medowes with delight. The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mockes married men, for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare. When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes, And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes: When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes: The Cuckow then on euerie tree Mockes married men; for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare
Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall, And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile; And Tom beares Logges into the hall, And Milke comes frozen home in paile: When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle Tuwhit towho. A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot. When all aloud the winde doth blow, And coffing drownes the Parsons saw: And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marrians nose lookes red and raw: When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle, Tuwhit towho: A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot
Brag. The Words of Mercurie, Are harsh after the songs of Apollo: You that way; we this way.
Exeunt. omnes.