Array The griffin classics - William Shakespeare - Complete Collection

Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure

As the unsallied 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, vow’d with integrity.

King.

O, you have liv’d in desolation here,

Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

Prin.

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?

Prin.

Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

Ros.

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 stay’d 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.

Ber.

This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet,

Your wits 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.

Ros.

This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye—

Ber.

I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Ros.

But that you take what doth to you belong,

It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

Ber.

O, I am yours, and all that I possess!

Ros.

All the fool mine?

Ber.

I cannot give you less.

Ros.

Which of the vizards was it that you wore?

Ber.

Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?

Ros.

There then, that vizard, that superfluous case,

That hid the worse, and show’d the better face.

King [Aside.]

We were descried, they’ll mock us now downright.

Dum. [Aside.]

Let us confess and turn it to a jest.

Prin.

Amaz’d, my lord? Why looks your Highness sad?

Ros.

Help, hold his brows, he’ll sound! Why look you pale?

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Ber.

Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.

Can any face of brass 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 schoolboy’s tongue,

Nor never come in vizard to my friend,

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song!

Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pil’d hyperboles, spruce affection,

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, God knows!),

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d

In russet yeas and honest kersey noes.

And to begin, wench, so God help me law!

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

Ros.

Sans ‘sans,’ I pray you.

Ber.

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.

Prin.

No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.

Ber.

Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.

Ros.

It is not so, for how can this be true,

That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Ber.

Peace, for I will not have to do with you.

Ros.

Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

Ber.

Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end.

King.

Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression

Some fair excuse.

Prin.

The fairest is confession.

Were not you here but even now, disguis’d?

King.

Madam, I was.

Prin.

And were you well advis’d?

King.

I was, fair madam.

Prin.

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.

Prin.

When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

King.

Upon mine honor, no.

Prin.

Peace, peace, forbear:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

King.

Despise me when I break this oath of mine.

Prin.

I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline,

What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ros.

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.

Prin.

God give thee joy of him! The noble lord

Most honorably doth uphold his word.

King.

What mean you, madam? By my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.

Ros.

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.

Prin.

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?

Ber.

Neither of either; I remit both twain.

I see the trick an’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 Dick,

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 favors; 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 ’tis;

[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.

Ber.

Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace, I have done.

Enter Clown [Costard].

Welcome, pure wit, thou part’st a fair fray.

Cost.

O Lord, sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Ber.

What, are there but three?

Cost.