William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

NATHANIEL. And thank you too; for society,—saith the text,—is the happiness of life.

HOLOFERNES. And certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. [To DULL] Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. The same.

[Enter BEROWNE, with a paper.]

BEROWNE. The king he is hunting the deer: I am coursing myself: they have pitched a toil: I am tolling in a pitch,—pitch that defiles: defile! a foul word! Well, sit thee down, sorrow! for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I am 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 o’ 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 rime, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper; God give him grace to groan!

[Gets up into a tree.]

[Enter the KING, with a paper.]

KING.

Ay me!

BEROWNE. [Aside.] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thumped him with thy birdbolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets!

KING.

So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote

The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows;

Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright

Through the transparent bosom of the deep,

As doth thy face through tears of mine give light.

Thou shin’st in every tear that I do weep:

No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;

So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.

Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will show:

But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep

My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.

O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel

No thought can think nor tongue of mortal tell.

How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper:

Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?

[Steps aside.]

What, Longaville! and reading! Listen, ear.

[Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.]

BEROWNE.

Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!

LONGAVILLE.

Ay me! I am forsworn.

BEROWNE.

Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.

KING.

In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame!

BEROWNE.

One drunkard loves another of the name.

LONGAVILLE.

Am I the first that have been perjur’d so?

BEROWNE.

I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know;

Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society,

The shape of love’s Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.

LONGAVILLE.

I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move.

O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

BEROWNE.

O! rimes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose:

Disfigure not his slop.

LONGAVILLE.

This same shall go.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,

‘Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,

Persuade my heart to this false perjury?

Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.

A woman I forswore; but I will prove,

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:

My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;

Thy grace being gain’d, cures all disgrace in me.

Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,

Exhal’st this vapour-vow; in thee it is:

If broken, then it is no fault of mine:

If by me broke, what fool is not so wise

To lose an oath to win a paradise!

BEROWNE.

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.

LONGAVILLE.

By whom shall I send this?—Company! Stay.

[Steps aside.]

BEROWNE.

All hid, all hid; an old infant play.

Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,

And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye.

More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish.

[Enter DUMAINE, with a paper.]

Dumain transformed: four woodcocks in a dish!

DUMAINE.

O most divine Kate!

BEROWNE.

O most profane coxcomb!

DUMAINE.

By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!

BEROWNE.

By earth, she is but corporal; there you lie.

DUMAINE.

Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.

BEROWNE.

An amber-colour’d raven was well noted.

DUMAINE.

As upright as the cedar.

BEROWNE.

Stoop, I say;

Her shoulder is with child.

DUMAINE.

As fair as day.

BEROWNE.

Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.

DUMAINE.

O! that I had my wish.

LONGAVILLE.

And I had mine!

KING.

And I mine too, good Lord!

BEROWNE.

Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?

DUMAINE.

I would forget her; but a fever she

Reigns in my blood, and will remember’d be.

BEROWNE.

A fever in your blood! Why, then incision

Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!

DUMAINE.

Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ.

BEROWNE.

Once more I’ll mark how love can vary wit.

DUMAINE.

On a day, alack the day!

Love, whose month is ever May,

Spied a blossom passing fair

Playing in the wanton air:

Through the velvet leaves the wind,

All unseen, ‘gan passage find;

That the lover, sick to death,

Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath.

Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;

Air, would I might triumph so!

But, alack! my hand is sworn

Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn;

Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,

Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.

Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee;

Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear

Juno but an Ethiope were;

And deny himself for Jove,

Turning mortal for thy love.

This will I send, and something else more plain,

That shall express my true love’s fasting pain.

O! would the King, Berowne and Longaville

Were lovers too. Ill, to example ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a perjur’d note;

For none offend where all alike do dote.

LONGAVILLE.

[Advancing.] Dumain, thy love is far from charity,

That in love’s grief desir’st society;

You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,

To be o’erheard and taken napping so.

KING.

[Advancing.] Come, sir, you blush; as his, your case is such.

You chide at him, offending twice as much:

You do not love Maria; Longaville

Did never sonnet for her sake compile;

Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart

His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.

I have been closely shrouded in this bush,

And mark’d you both, and for you both did blush.

I heard your guilty rimes, observ’d your fashion,

Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:

Ay me! says one. O Jove! the other cries;

One, her hairs were gold; crystal the other’s eyes:

[To LONGAVILLE] You would for paradise break faith and troth;

[To DUMAIN] And Jove, for your love would infringe an oath.

What will Berowne say when that he shall hear