Audiobook: The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 2 of 9] by Shakespeare, William

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Title: The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [9 vols.] Volume 2.

Author: William Shakespeare

Editor: William George Clark William Aldis Wright

Release Date: March 13, 2014 [EBook #45128]

Language: English

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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.

Original printed spelling and grammar are retained, with exceptions noted in the Transcriber's Endnotes. Small caps are changed to all capital letters. Italics are indicated by low lines. Numerals originally printed as subscripts are shown inline e.g. "F1".

THE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

[Illustration]

THE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

EDITED BY

WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M.A. FELLOW AND TUTOR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, AND PUBLIC ORATOR IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE;

AND WILLIAM ALDIS WRIGHT, M.A. LIBRARIAN OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

VOLUME II.

Cambridge and London: MACMILLAN AND CO. 1863.

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

THE Preface vii

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 3

Notes to Much Ado About Nothing 89

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST 97

Notes to Love’s Labour’s Lost 191

A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM 199

Notes to A Midsummer-Night’s Dream 273

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 279

Notes to The Merchant of Venice 369

AS YOU LIKE IT 375

Notes to As You Like It 462

PREFACE.

The five plays contained in this volume are here printed in the order in which they occur in the Folios.

1. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. The first edition of this play is a Quarto, of which the title is as follows:

Much adoe about | Nothing. | As it hath been sundrie times publikely | acted by the right honourable, the Lord | Chamberlaine his seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | London | Printed by V. S. for Andrew Wise, and | William Aspley. | 1600.

The First Folio edition of this play was obviously printed from a copy of the Quarto belonging to the library of the theatre, and corrected for the purposes of the stage. Some stage directions of interest occur first in the Folio, but as regards the text, where the Folio differs from the Quarto it differs almost always for the worse. The alterations are due however to accident not design.

‘Davenant’s version,’ to which reference is made in the notes, is his play ‘The Law against Lovers.’

2. LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST was published for the first time in Quarto, with the following title:

A | Pleasant | Conceited Comedie | called, | Loues labors lost. | As it was presented before her Highnes | this last Christmas. | Newly corrected and augmented | By W. Shakespere. | Imprinted at London by W. W. | for Cutbert Burby. | 1598.

The Folio edition is a reprint of this Quarto, differing only in its being divided into Acts, and, as usual, inferior in accuracy. The second Quarto (Q2) is reprinted from the First Folio.

It bears the following title:

Loues Labours lost. | A wittie and | pleasant | comedie, | As it was Acted by his Maiesties Seruants at | the Blacke-Friers and the Globe. | Written | By William Shakespeare. | London, | Printed by W. S. for John Smethwicke, and are to be | sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstones Church-yard vnder the Diall. | 1631.

3. A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. Of this play also the first edition is a Quarto, bearing the following title:

A | Midsommer nights | dreame. | As it hath beene sundry times pub|lickcly acted, by the Right honoura|ble, the Lord Chamberlaine his | seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | Imprinted at London, for Thomas Fisher, and are to | be soulde at his shoppe, at the Signe of the White Hart, | in Fleetestreete. 1600.

The copy of this Quarto in the Capell collection was formerly in the possession of Theobald, and bears this note in his handwriting: “Collated with the other Old Quarto with the same Title, printed by James Roberts in 1600, L. T.” The results of the collation are recorded in the margin. We have called this Q1.

In the same year another edition appeared, also in Quarto, with this title:

A | Midsommer nights | dreame. | As it hath beene sundry times pub|likely acted, by the Right Honoura|ble, the Lord Chamberlaine his | seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | Printed by Iames Roberts, 1600.

On comparing these two Quartos we find that they correspond page for page, though not line for line, except in the first five pages of sheet G. The printer’s errors in Fisher’s edition are corrected in that issued by Roberts, and from this circumstance, coupled with the facts that in the Roberts Quarto the ‘Exits’ are more frequently marked, and that it was not entered at Stationers’ Hall, as Fisher’s edition was, we infer that the Roberts Quarto was a pirated reprint of Fisher’s, probably for the use of the players. This may account for its having been followed by the First Folio. Fisher’s edition, though carelessly printed, contains on the whole the best readings, and may have been taken from the author’s manuscript.

The First Folio edition was printed from Roberts’s Quarto, which we have quoted as Q2.

4. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Two Quarto editions of this play were published in the same year; (1) that generally known as the ‘Roberts Quarto,’ our Q1, bearing the following title-page:

The | excellent [History of the Mer|chant of Venice.| With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke | the Iew towards the saide Merchant, in cut|ting a iust pound of his flesh. And the obtaining | of Portia, by the choyse of | three Caskets.| Written by W. Shakespeare. | Printed by J. Roberts, 1600.

and (2) that known as the ‘Heyes Quarto,’ which we have called Q2, whose title-page is as follows:

The most excellent | Historie of the Merchant | of Venice. | With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe | towards the sayd Merchant, in cutting a iust pound | of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia | by the choyse of three | chests. | As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord | Chamberlaine his Servants.| Written by William Shakespeare. At London, | Printed by I. R. for Thomas Heyes, | and are to be sold in Paules Church-yard, at the | signe of the Greene Dragon. | 1600. |

Different opinions have been entertained as to the respective priority of these two editions. Johnson and Capell both speak of the Heyes Quarto as the first. On the other hand, in the title-page of the Roberts Quarto, now at Devonshire House, J. P. Kemble, to whom the whole collection of Dramas belonged, has written ‘First edition.’ ‘Collated and perfect, J. P. K. 1798.’ And on the opposite page he has copied the following ‘entry on the Stationers’ Registers.’ ‘July 22, 1598. (James Roberts) A booke of the Merchaunt of Venyse, otherwise called the Jewe of Venyse. Provided that it be not printed by the said James Roberts or any other whatsoever without leave first had from the ryght honourable, the Lord Chamberlen—39. b.’ This shows that he had examined the question. He possessed moreover a copy of the Heyes Quarto, also collated by him and found perfect.

Mr Bolton Corney in Notes and Queries (2nd ser. Vol. X. p. 21), has shown that there is at least a strong probability in favour of the precedence of the Roberts Quarto. We have therefore decided to call the Roberts Quarto Q1, and the Heyes Q2.

In a critical point of view the question is of little or no consequence. After a minute comparison of the two, we have come to the conclusion that neither was printed from the other. We are indebted sometimes to one and sometimes to the other for the true reading, where it is very improbable that the printer should have hit upon the correction. For example, Act II. Sc. 8, line 39, the Roberts Quarto, sig. E. 1. recto, has ‘Slubber not business...’ while the Heyes Quarto, sig. D. 4. recto, has ‘Slumber....’ On the other hand, Act III. Sc. 1, line 6, the Heyes Quarto, sig. F. 2. recto, has ‘gossip report,’ the true reading, while the Roberts Quarto, sig. F. 2. verso, has ‘gossips report.’ Other instances might be brought to prove that neither edition is printed from the other. But there is reason to think that they were printed from the same MS. Their agreement in spelling and punctuation and in manifest errors is too close to admit of any other hypothesis. We incline to believe that this common MS. was a transcript made from the author’s. It is certain, for instance, that the MS. had ‘veiling an Indian beauty’ (Act III. Sc. 2, line 99), and it is equally certain that ‘beauty’ was not the word Shakespeare meant. Other examples of common errors derived from the MS. will be found in our footnotes, and our readers may investigate the question for themselves.

Q1 seems to have been printed by a more accurate printer or ‘overseen’ by a more accurate corrector than Q2, and therefore cœteris paribus we have preferred the authority of Q1.

The First Folio text is a reprint of the Heyes Quarto, which had doubtless belonged to the theatre library, and, as in other cases, had had some stage directions inserted.

The third Quarto, Q3, is also reprinted from Q2. It was published with the following title-page:

The most excellent | Historie of the Merchant | of Venice. | With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke | the Iewe towards the said Merchant, in | cutting a just pound of his flesh: and the obtaining of PORTIA by the choice | of three Chests. | As it hath beene divers times acted by the | Lord Chamberlaine his Servants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | London, | Printed by M.P. for Laurence Hayes, and are to be sold | at his Shop on Fleetbridge. 1637.

The so-called Fourth Quarto differs from Q3 only in having a new title-page. We might have suppressed ‘Q4’ altogether, but having made the collation we allow the record to stand. The title-page of Q4 is as follows:

The most excellent | Historie | of the | Merchant of Venice: | With the extreame cruelty of Shylocke | the Jew towards the said Merchant, in cutting a | just pound of his flesh; and the obtaining | of Portia by the choyce of three Chests. | As it hath beene diverse times acted by the | Lord Chamberlaine his Servants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | London: | Printed for William Leake, and are to be solde at his shop at the | signe of the Crown in Fleetstreet, between the two | Temple Gates. 1652.

The ‘Lansdowne version,’ which we have quoted in the notes, is the adaptation of The Merchant of Venice, published by Lord Lansdowne in 1701 under the title of The Jew of Venice.

5. AS YOU LIKE IT was printed for the first time in the First Folio; at least if any previous edition was ever published, no copy of it is known to be extant. This alone, of all the plays contained in the present volume, is divided into scenes in the Folio. In this play an unusual number of certain and probable emendations are due to the Second Folio.

The ‘De Quincey (or ‘Quincy’) MS.’ is an annotated copy of the Fourth Folio, quoted by Mr Grant White and Mr Halliwell.

In addition to those mentioned in the preface to the first volume, to whom we beg here to repeat our acknowledgments, we have to thank the Countess of Ellesmere and the Duke of Devonshire for the liberality with which they have thrown open to us the treasures of their libraries. We have to thank the Duke of Devonshire also for the interest which he has taken in our work and the help he has been kind enough to render in person. And on the same score we owe a debt of gratitude to Dr Kingsley, Mr Howard Staunton, Mr H. J. Roby, and Professor Craik, whose excellent volume The English of Shakespeare is too well known to need any commendation from us.

One act of kindness deserves an especial record. Dr Leo of Berlin, who had himself prepared an edition of Coriolanus, was meditating a complete edition of Shakespeare on the plan we have adopted, but gave up the scheme when he found we had anticipated him. Reading in the preface to our first volume an expression of regret that there was no index to Mr Sidney Walker’s Shakespeare Criticisms, Dr Leo copied out and sent us an index which he had made for his own use. It has been of the greatest service to us, and we here beg to thank him most cordially for his generous aid.

W. G. C. W. A. W.

Mr Glover’s removal from Cambridge having compelled him to relinquish his part as Editor, Mr Wright, who was already engaged on the Glossary, has taken his place. This arrangement will, it is hoped, continue to the end.

W. G. C.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ[1].

DON PEDRO, prince of Arragon. DON JOHN, his bastard brother. CLAUDIO, a young lord of Florence. BENEDICK, a young lord of Padua. LEONATO, governor of Messina. ANTONIO, his brother. BALTHASAR, attendant on Don Pedro. CONRADE, follower of Don John. BORACHIO, ” ” ” FRIAR FRANCIS. DOGBERRY, a constable. VERGES, a headborough. A Sexton. A Boy.

HERO, daughter to Leonato[2]. BEATRICE, niece to Leonato. MARGARET, gentlewoman attending on Hero. URSULA, ” ” ”

Messengers, Watch, Attendants, &c.

SCENE—Messina.

~~~~~ Footnotes:

1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.] First given by Rowe.

2: See note (I). ~~~~~

ACT I.

SCENE I. Before LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO, HERO, and BEATRICE, with a Messenger.

Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon comes this night to Messina.

Mess. He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? 5

Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.

Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio.

Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered 10 by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how.

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very 15 much glad of it.

Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.

Leon. Did he break out into tears? 20

Mess. In great measure.

Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!

Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from 25 the wars or no?

Mess. I know none of that name, lady: there was none such in the army of any sort.

Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?

Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. 30

Mess. O, he’s returned; and as pleasant as ever he was.

Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight; and my uncle’s fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten 35 in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing.

Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he’ll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. 40

Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath help to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher-man; he hath an excellent stomach.

Mess. And a good soldier too, lady.

Beat. And a good soldier to a lady: but what is he to 45 a lord?

Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues.

Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man: but for the stuffing,—well, we are all mortal. 50

Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her: they never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit between them.

Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the 55 whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. 60

Mess. Is’t possible?

Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.

Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.

Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, 65 pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?

Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.

Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: 70 he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a’ be cured.

Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. 75

Beat. Do, good friend.

Leon. You will never run mad, niece.

Beat. No, not till a hot January.

Mess. Don Pedro is approached.

Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and BALTHASAR.

D. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet 80 your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and 85 happiness takes his leave.

D. Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your daughter.

Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so.

Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? 90

Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.

D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady; for you are like an honourable father. 95

Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick: nobody marks you. 100

Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?

Beat. Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.

Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I 105 am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.

Beat. A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and 110 my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.

Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face.

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an ’twere such 115 a face as yours were.

Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i’ God’s 120 name; I have done.

Beat. You always end with a jade’s trick: I know you of old.

D. Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato 125 hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart.

Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. 130 [To Don John] Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty.

D. John. I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank you.

Leon. Please it your Grace lead on? 135

D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato; we will go together.

[Exeunt all except Benedick and Claudio.

Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?

Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her.

Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? 140

Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgement; or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?

Claud. No; I pray thee speak in sober judgement.

Bene. Why, i’faith, methinks she’s too low for a high 145 praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.

Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray thee tell 150 me truly how thou likest her.

Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?

Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel?

Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us 155 Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song?

Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on.

Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no 160 such matter: there’s her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you?

Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn 165 the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Bene. Is’t come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i’faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the 170 print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look; Don Pedro is returned to seek you.

Re-enter DON PEDRO.

D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonato’s?

Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. 175

D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.

Bene. You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb man; I would have you think so; but, on my allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance. He is in love. With who? now that is your Grace’s part. Mark how 180 short his answer is;—With Hero, Leonato’s short daughter.

Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered.

Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: ‘it is not so, nor ’twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.’

Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it 185 should be otherwise.

D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy.

Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.

D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. 190

Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.

Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine.

Claud. That I love her, I feel.

D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 195

Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake.

D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. 200

Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will.

Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or 205 hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor.

D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. 210

Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with love: prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker’s pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid. 215

D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.

Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam. 220

D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try: ‘In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.’

Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull’s horns, and set them in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted; and in such 225 great letters as they write ‘Here is good horse to hire,’ let them signify under my sign ‘Here you may see Benedick the married man.’

Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. 230

D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.

Bene. I look for an earthquake too, then.

D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato’s: 235 commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great preparation.

Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and so I commit you—

Claud. To the tuition of God: From my house, if I 240 had it,—

D. Pedro. The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick.

Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards 245 are but slightly basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience: and so I leave you.

[Exit.

Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me good.

D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach: teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 250 Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord?

D. Pedro. No child but Hero; she’s his only heir. Dost thou affect her, Claudio?

Claud. O, my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, 255 I look’d upon her with a soldier’s eye, That liked, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love: But now I am return’d and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 260 Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars.

D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, And tire the hearer with a book of words. 265 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it; And I will break with her and with her father, And thou shalt have her. Was’t not to this end That thou began’st to twist so fine a story?

Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love, 270 That know love’s grief by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salved it with a longer treatise.

D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity. 275 Look, what will serve is fit: ’tis once, thou lovest, And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night: I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; 280 And in her bosom I’ll unclasp my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale: Then after to her father will I break; And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. 285 In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, I, 1.

SCENE I. Before L.’s house] Capell. A court before L.’s house. Pope.

Enter...] See note (I).

1, 8: Peter] Q Ff. Pedro Rowe.

8: numbers] number F4.

35: bird-bolt] Theobald. but-bolt Id. conj. burbolt Q Ff.

37: promised] promise F4.

39: be] om. F3 F4.

meet] met Capell.

40: these] Q F1. those F2 F3 F4.

41: Beat.] Mes. F2.

victual] Capell. vittaile Q. victuall F1 F2 F3. victuals F4.

eat] F3 F4. eate Q F2. ease F1.

42: he is] Q. he’s Ff.

50: stuffing,—well,] Theobald (Davenant’s version). stuffing well, Q Ff.

57: warm] from harm Warburton.

58: wealth] wearth Hanmer.

65, 161, 170 and passim. an] Theobald. and Q Ff. if Pope.

73: Benedick] Benedict Q F1.

74: a’] a Q1. he F1. it F2 F3 F4.

77: never] Q. ne’re Ff.

79: Enter ... Don John] Enter ... John the Bastard. Q Ff.

80: SCENE II. Pope.

80, 81: you are...trouble:] Ff. are you...trouble: Q. are you...trouble? Collier.

87: too] Q F1. more F2 F3 F4. most Rowe.

90: sir] Q. om. Ff.

92: we] you Rowe (ed. 2).

110: pernicious] pertinacious Grey conj.

116: were] om. Collier MS.

120: i’] Capell. a Q Ff. o’ Warburton.

124: That...all, Leonato.] That...all: Leonato, Q. This...all: Leonato, Ff. This...all: Don John, Hanmer. See note (II).

126: tell him] Q F1 F2. tell you F3 F4.

131, 132: Q Ff place a comma after lord and a colon or semicolon after brother.

136: [Exeunt...] Exeunt. Manent ... Q. [Exeunt. Manet... Ff.

137: SCENE III. Pope.

143: their] her Capell conj.

144: pray thee] Q F1 prethee F2 F3 F4.

145: a high] a hie Q F1 F2. an high F3 F4.

158, 159: ever I] I ever Pope.

162: with a] with such a Rowe (ed. 2).

167: this? In faith] Q Ff. this, in faith? Pope.

172: Re-enter Don Pedro.] Hanmer. Enter Don Pedro, John the bastard. Q Ff.

173: SCENE IV. Pope.

174: Leonato’s] Rowe (ed. 2). Leonatoes Q F1 F2. Leonato F3 F4. Leonato’s house Pope.

177: can] cannot F4.

180: With who?] Q F1. With whom? F2 F3 F4.

181: his] the Collier MS.

182, 183: Claud. If ... were it. Bene. Uttered like the old tale ... Johnson conj. See note (III).

193: spoke] Q. speake F1 F2. speak F3 F4.

205: recheat] rechate Q Ff.

219: hits] first hits Collier MS.

248: SCENE V. Pope.

249: to teach] to use S. Walker conj.

267: I will] I’ll Pope.

267, 268: and with her father, And thou shalt have her] Q. Omitted in Ff. restored by Theobald.

269: story] string Lettsom conj.

270: you do] Q. do you Ff.

275: grant] plea Hanmer. ground Collier MS.

grant is] garant’s Anon. conj.

is] Q F1 F2. in F3 F4.

the] to Hayley conj.

282: the] a F4.

286: presently] instantly Capell conj. MS. ~~~~~

SCENE II. A room in LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, meeting.

Leon. How now, brother! Where is my cousin, your son? hath he provided this music?

Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news, that you yet dreamt not of.

Leon. Are they good? 5

Ant. As the event stamps them: but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine: the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter, 10 and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it.

Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?

Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him; and 15 question him yourself.

Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream till it appear itself: but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it. [Enter attendants.] Cousins, 20 you know what you have to do. O, I cry you mercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use your skill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.] Capell.

A room in L.’s house] Capell. See note (IV).

Enter...] Enter L. and an old man brother to L. Q Ff. Re-enter A. and L. Pope.

4: strange] Q. om. Ff.

6: event] F2 F3 F4 events Q F1.

8: mine orchard] Q. my orchard Ff.

9: thus much] Q. thus Ff.

12: he meant] Q F1 F2 F3. meant F4.

18: withal] Theobald. withall Q F1 F2. with all F3 F4.

19: an]Q F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

20: Enter attendants] Edd. Several cross the stage here. Theobald. Enter several persons, bearing things for the Banquet. Capell.

23: cousin] cousins Steevens. ~~~~~

SCENE III. The same.

Enter DON JOHN and CONRADE.

Con. What the good-year, my lord! why are you thus out of measure sad?

D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit.

Con. You should hear reason. 5

D. John. And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?

Con. If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.

D. John. I wonder that thou, being (as thou sayest thou art) born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medicine 10 to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man’s jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man’s leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man’s business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. 15

Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta’en you newly into his grace; where it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself: it is 20 needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.

D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it 25 must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not 30 to alter me.

Con. Can you make no use of your discontent?

D. John. I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here?

Enter BORACHIO.

What news, Borachio? 35

Bora. I came yonder from a great supper: the prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.

D. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? 40

Bora. Marry, it is your brother’s right hand.

D. John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio?

Bora. Even he.

D. John. A proper squire! And who, and who? which 45 way looks he?

Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.

Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was 50 smoking a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio. 55

D. John. Come, come, let us thither: this may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me?

Con. To the death, my lord. 60

D. John. Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were of my mind! Shall we go prove what’s to be done?

Bora. We’ll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, I. 3.

SCENE III.] Capell. SCENE VI. Pope.

1: good-year] good-yeere Q. good yeere F1 F2. good year F3 F4. good-jer Theobald. goujeres Hanmer. goujere Steevens.

4: breeds] breeds it. Theobald.

7: brings] Q. bringeth Ff.

8: at least] Q. yet Ff.

10: moral] morall Q F1. mortall F2 F3 F4.

16: the full] full S. Walker conj. who would print lines 16–21 as verses, ending this...controlement ... brother...grace...root...yourself...season...harvest.

17: of late] till of late Collier MS.

19: true] Q. om. Ff.

23: in his grace] by his grace Johnson conj. in his garden Id. conj. (withdrawn).

27: muzzle] mussell Q F1 F2 F3. muzzel F4.

33: I make] Q. I will make Ff.

36: came] come Capell conj.

47: on] Ff. one Q.

48: came] Q F1. come F2 F3 F4.

49: to this?] to know this? Johnson.

52: whipt me] Q. whipt Ff.

59: me?] Ff. me. Q. ~~~~~

ACT II.

D. John. A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?

Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others.

Leon. Was not Count John here at supper?

Ant. I saw him not.

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heart-burned an hour after.

Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. 5

Beat. He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick: the one is too like an image and says nothing, and the other too like my lady’s eldest son, evermore tattling.

Leon. Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count 10 John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior Benedick’s face,—

Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if a’ could get her good-will. 15

Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

Ant. In faith, she’s too curst.

Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God’s sending that way; for it is said, ‘God sends a curst cow 20 short horns;’ but to a cow too curst he sends none.

Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.

Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard 25 on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen.

Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard.

Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth; and he that hath no 30 beard is less than a man: and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his apes into hell.

Leon. Well, then, go you into hell? 35

Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say ‘Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here’s no place for you maids:’ so deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the heavens; he shows me where the 40 bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.

Ant. [To Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father.

Beat. Yes, faith; it is my cousin’s duty to make courtesy, and say, ‘Father, as it please you.’ But yet for all 45 that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say, ‘Father, as it please me.’

Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than 50 earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. 55

Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.

Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the 60 answer. For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, 65 with his bad legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.

Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. 70

Leon. The revellers are entering, brother: make good room. [All put on their masks.

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHASAR, DON JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA, and others, masked.

D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend?

Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and especially when I 75 walk away.

D. Pedro. With me in your company?

Hero. I may say so, when I please.

D. Pedro. And when please you to say so?

Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend the 80 lute should be like the case!

D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon’s roof; within the house is Jove.

Hero. Why, then, your visor should be thatched.

D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 85

[Drawing her aside.

Balth. Well, I would you did like me.

Marg. So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many ill qualities.

Balth. Which is one?

Marg. I say my prayers aloud. 90

Balth. I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, I, 2.

Balth. Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! Answer, clerk. 95

Balth. No more words: the clerk is answered.

Urs. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio.

Ant. At a word, I am not.

Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.

Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. 100

Urs. You could never do him so ill-well; unless you were the very man. Here’s his dry hand up and down: you are he, you are he.

Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by 105 your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there’s an end.

Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?

Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? 110

Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the ‘Hundred Merry Tales’:—well, this was Signior Benedick that said so.

Bene. What’s he? 115

Beat. I am sure you know him well enough.

Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh?

Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is the prince’s jester: a very dull fool; 120 only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet: I would he had boarded me. 125

Bene. When I know the gentleman, I’ll tell him what you say.

Beat. Do, do: he’ll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy; and then there’s a partridge 130 wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music.] We must follow the leaders.

Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. 135

[Dance. Then exeunt all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.

D. John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing.

D. John. Are not you Signior Benedick? 140

Claud. You know me well; I am he.

D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her: she is no equal for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it. 145

Claud. How know you he loves her?

D. John. I heard him swear his affection.

Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.

D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. 150

[Exeunt Don John and Borachio.

Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. ’Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love: 155 Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, 160 Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero!

Re-enter BENEDICK.

Bene. Count Claudio?

Claud. Yea, the same.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?

Claud. Whither? 165

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an usurer’s chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. 170

Claud. I wish him joy of her.

Bene. Why, that’s spoken like an honest drovier: so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus?

Claud. I pray you, leave me. 175

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man: ’twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post.

154: into] in too Hanmer.

Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and 180 not know me! The prince’s fool! Ha? It may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I’ll be revenged 185 as I may.

D. Pedro. Now, signior, where’s the count? did you see him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a 190 warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good will of this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. 195

D. Pedro. To be whipped! What’s his fault?

Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy, who, being overjoyed with finding a birds’ nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.

D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? 200 The transgression is in the stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds’ nest. 205

D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.

D. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: 210 the gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you.

Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! an oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life and 215 scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince’s jester, that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance, upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks 220 poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed: she would have made 225 Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; 230 and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her.

D. Pedro. Look, here she comes.

Enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, HERO, and LEONATO.

Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the 235 world’s end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John’s foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard; do you any embassage to 240 the Pigmies; rather than hold three words’ conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me?

D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.

Bene. O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not: I cannot endure my Lady Tongue. [Exit. 245

D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one: marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore 250 your Grace may well say I have lost it.

D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count 255 Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

D. Pedro. Why, how now, count! wherefore are you sad?

Claud. Not sad, my lord.

D. Pedro. How then? sick? 260

Claud. Neither, my lord.

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

D. Pedro. I’ faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; 265 though, I’ll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won: I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy! 270

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it.

Beat. Speak, count, ’tis your cue.

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were 275 but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange. Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. 280

D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart.

Claud. And so she doth, cousin. 285

Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt; I may sit in a corner, and cry heigh-ho for a husband!

D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. I would rather have one of your father’s getting. 290 Hath your Grace ne’er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady?

Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working-days: your Grace is too costly to wear every day. 295 But, I beseech your Grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.

D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. 300

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy!

Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? 305

Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your Grace’s pardon. [Exit.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.

Leon. There’s little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not 310 ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

SCENE I. A hall in LEONATO’S house.

D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.

D. Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to 320 church?

Claud. To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.

Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all 325 things answer my mind.

D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules’ labours; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and 330 the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.

Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten 335 nights’ watchings.

Claud. And I, my lord.

D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?

Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. 340

D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, 345 will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. 350

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, II. 1.

ACT II. See note (V).

SCENE I. A hall...] Theobald. L.’s House. Pope. See note (VI).

Enter...] Enter L., his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter and Beatrice his niece and a kinsman. Q Ff. (and kinsman F3 F4). See note (I).

15: a’] Collier. a Q. he Ff.

26: the woollen] woollen Rowe (ed. 2).

27: on] Q. upon Ff.

34: bear-ward] Collier. Berrord Q F1 F2. Bearherd F3 F4.

35: hell?] Hanmer. hell. Q Ff. hell,—Theobald.

35–41: Put in the margin as spurious by Warburton.

37: horns] his horns F4.

40: Peter for the heavens;] Pope. Peter: for the heavens, Q Ff. Peter. for the heavens! Staunton.

44, 47: courtesy] cursie Q. curtsie Ff.

45: Father] Q. om. Ff.

47: please] Q F1. pleases F2 F3 F4.

52: an account] Q. account Ff.

53: wayward] cold wayward F3 F4.

54: my] om. F3 F4.

59: important] importunate Rowe (ed. 2).

61: hear] here Q.

62: as] om. Rowe.

65: ancientry] aunchentry Q F1 F2. anchentry F3 F4.

67: sink] sincke Q. sinkes F1 F2. sinks F3 F4. sink apace Collier MS. See note (V).

72: All...masks] L. and his company mask. Capell.

73: SCENE II. Pope.

Enter...masked.] Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumb John. Q. Enter...John, Maskers with a drum. Ff.

82–85: Printed as two verses by Grant White.

83: Jove] Q. Love F1. love F2 F3 F4.

84, 85: Hero...thatch’d. D. Pedro...love] Hero...thatch’d. Speak...speak, Jove. Anon. conj.

85: D. Pedro] Marg. Heath conj. [Drawing her aside] Capell.

86, 89, 91: These lines are given to Benedick in Q Ff. Theobald gives them to Balthasar.

87: Marg.] Mas. F4. See note (VIII.)

90: Marg.] Mask. F4.

91: [Turning off in quest of another. Capell.

96: [Parting different ways. Capell.

101: ill-well] Theobald. ill well Q Ff. ill Will Rowe. ill, well Pope.

106: mum,] mumme, Q Ff. mummer, Anon. conj.

107: [Mixing with the company. Capell.

110: not tell] Q F1. tell F2 F3 F4.

116: Beat.] om. F2.

121: impossible] impassible Warburton.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer!

131: [Music] Musick within. Theobald. [Musick begins: Dance forming. Capell.

135: [Dance......Claudio] Dance. Exeunt. Q. [Exeunt. Musicke for the dance. Ff. [Exeunt. Manent Don. J., B. and C. Warburton. [Dance: and exeunt D. Ped. and Leo. conversing...Capell.

136: SCENE III. Pope.

146: you] ye Theobald.

152: these] this F3 F4.

156: their] your Hanmer.

158: for] om. Pope.

161: therefore] then Pope.

167: county] Q. Count Ff.

of] Q F4. off F1 F2 F3.

168: an] a F4.

172: drovier] Q Ff. drover Rowe (ed. 2)

176: Ho! now] Ho now Q F1. Ho no! F2 F3. No no! F4.

179: fowl] foule Q. fowle F1. soule F2. soul F3 F4.

181: Ha?] F2 F3 F4. hah, Q. Hah? F1.

182: Yea] Q F1. you F2. yet F3 F4.

182, 3: so...wrong;] so; (but...wrong) Capell.

183: base,] bare Anon. conj.

184: though bitter] the bitter Steevens (Johnson conj.). tough, bitter Jackson conj. through-bitter Anon. conj.

world] word F3 F4.

187: SCENE IV. Pope.

Re-enter Don Pedro.] Enter the Prince. Ff. Enter the Prince, Hero, Leonato, John and Borachio, and Conrade. Q.

191: I told] Q. told Ff.

192: good] Q. om. Ff.

this] his S. Walker conj.

194: up] Q. om. Ff.

198, 205: birds’] birds Q Ff. bird’s Rowe (ed. 2).

214: but with] with but Capell conj.

217: that] Q. and that Ff.

218: impossible] impassable Theobald (Warburton). See note (IX). impetuous Hanmer. importable Johnson conj. imposeable Becket conj. unportable Collier MS. impitiable Jackson.

222: her terminations] Q. terminations Ff. her minations S. Walker conj.

223: to the north] the north Warburton conj.

225: left] lent Collier MS.

228: the infernal] in the infernal F3 F4.

233: follows] follow Pope.

235: SCENE V. Pope.

240: off] of Collier. See note (X).

242: You have] Have you Collier MS.

245: my Lady Tongue.] Q. this Lady Tongue F1. this lady’s tongue F2 F3 F4.

249: his] Q. a Ff.

263: civil count] civil, count Theobald.

264: that jealous] Q. a jealous Ff. as jealous a Collier MS.

266: I’ll] Q F1. I F2 F3 F4.

268, 269: and his...obtained:] Pope. and his...obtained, Q Ff. and, his...obtained, Collier.

284: her] Q. my Ff.

287: to] through Jackson conj.

world] wood Johnson conj.

288: heigh-ho for a husband!] See note (XI).

299: of] Ff. a Q. o’ Edd. conj.

302: was I] Q F1 F2. I was F3 F4.

308: SCENE VI. Pope.

pleasant-spirited] Theobald. pleasant spirited Q Ff.

311: ever] even Anon. conj.

312: unhappiness] an happiness Theobald.

320: County] Countie Q. Counte F1. Count F2 F3 F4.

326: my] Q. om. Ff. our Collier MS.

Leon. O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out 315 of suit.

mountain of affection] mounting affection of Becket conj.

331, 332: the...the] th’...th’ Q Ff.

333: but] om. Pope.

350: in] om. F3 F4. ~~~~~

SCENE II. The same.

Enter DON JOHN and BORACHIO.

D. John. It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.

D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and 5 whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?

Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

D. John. Show me briefly how. 10

Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.

D. John. I remember.

Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, 15 appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber window.

D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?

Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he 20 hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio —whose estimation do you mightily hold up—to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.

D. John. What proof shall I make of that?

Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, 25 to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?

D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.

Bora. Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro 30 and the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as,—in love of your brother’s honour, who hath made this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,—that you 35 have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them to see this the very night before the intended 40 wedding,—for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent,—and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero’s disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown.

D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will 45 put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.

Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.

D. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. 50

[Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, II. 2.

SCENE II.] SCENE VII. Pope.

The same] Edd. Scene changes. Pope. Scene changes to another apartment in L.’s house. Theobald.

30: Don] Q. on Ff.

33: in love] Q. in a love Ff.

33–35: as,—in...maid,—that] Capell, (as in...match)...maid, that Q Ff.

36: scarcely] hardly Rowe.

39: Claudio] Borachio Pope, ed. 2 (Theobald). See note (XII).

41: so] om. F3 F4.

43: truth] Q. truths Ff. proofs Collier MS.

Hero’s] her Capell.

48: you] Q, Capell. thou Ff. ~~~~~

SCENE III. LEONATO’S orchard.

Enter BENEDICK.

Bene. Boy!

Enter Boy.

Boy. Signior?

Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither to me in the orchard.

Boy. I am here already, sir. 5

Bene. I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own 10 scorn by falling in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, 15 carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet,—just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I 20 think not: I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster; but I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well: but till all graces 25 be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her 30 hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour.

[Withdraws.

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO.

D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music?

Claud. If it will not be, I’ll leave you. [Exit.

D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?

Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended, We’ll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.

Enter BALTHASAR with Music.

D. Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.

Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice 40 To slander music any more than once.

D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.

Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; 45 Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, Yet will he swear he loves.

D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come; Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes.

Balth. Note this before my notes; 50 There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.

D. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks; Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Air.

Bene. Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheeps’ guts should hale souls out of men’s 55 bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done.

The Song.

Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never: 60 Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, 65 Of dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy: Then sigh not so, &c.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. 70

Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.

D. Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.

Bene. An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and I pray God his 75 bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

D. Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber-window. 80

Balth. The best I can, my lord.

D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exit Balthasar.] Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? 85

Claud. O, ay: stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. 90

Bene. Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection; it is past the infinite of thought.

D. Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit. 95

Claud. Faith, like enough.

Leon. O God, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she?

Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. 100

Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud. She did, indeed.

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against 105 all assaults of affection.

Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.

Bene. I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide himself 110 in such reverence.

Claud. He hath ta’en the infection: hold it up.

D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?

Leon. No; and swears she never will: that’s her 115 torment.

Claud. ’Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?’ 120

Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all.

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember 125 a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

Leon. O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?

Claud. That.

Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; 130 railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her; ‘I measure him,’ says she, ‘by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.’

Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, 135 sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!’

Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself: 140 it is very true.

D. Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.

Claud. To what end? He would make but a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. 145

D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.

123: pleases] Q. pleaseth Ff.

331: mountain] mooting Johnson conj.

Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony! 35

Claud. And she is exceeding wise.

D. Pedro. In every thing but in loving Benedick. 150

Leon. O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on 155 me: I would have daffed all other respects, and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what a’ will say.

Leon. Were it good, think you?

Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she 160 will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she make her love known; and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man, as 165 you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.

Claud. He is a very proper man.

D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness.

Claud. Before God! and in my mind, very wise.

D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are 170 like wit.

Claud. And I take him to be valiant.

D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most 175 Christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear 180 God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?

Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel. 185

Leon. Nay, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.

D. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see 190 how much he is unworthy so good a lady.

Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.

Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.

D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; 195 and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. 200

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.

Bene. [Coming forward] This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself 205 proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair,—’tis a truth, I can 210 bear them witness; and virtuous,—’tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me,—by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I 215 have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I 220 said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.

Enter BEATRICE.

Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. 225

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure, then, in the message? 230

Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. [Exit.

Bene. Ha! ‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner;’ there’s a double meaning in that. ‘I took 235 no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me;’ that’s as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture. [Exit. 240

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, II. 3.

SCENE III.] SCENE VIII. Pope.

Enter Benedick.] Collier. Enter Benedick alone. Q Ff. Enter B. and a Boy. Rowe. Enter B. and a Boy following. Staunton.

1: Enter Boy.] Collier, om. Q Ff.

7: [Exit Boy.] Exit. Q. Ff (after line 5).

18: orthography] Ff. ortography Q. orthographer Rowe (ed. 2). orthographist Capell conj.

22: an] and Q.

27–30: See note (XIII).

29: I] Q. om. Ff.

33: SCENE IX. Pope.

Enter......Leonato] Capell. Enter prince, Leonato, Claudio, Musicke. Q. Enter Prince, L., C. and Jacke Wilson. Ff.

38: kid-fox] cade fox Hanmer. hid fox Warburton.

Enter...Music] Q. om. Ff.

40: tax] task Capell conj.

41, 42: F1 repeats these lines in the turn of the page.

45–56: Put into the margin as spurious by Pope.

53: nothing] Q Ff. noting Theobald.

65: moe] Q F1. more F2 F3 F4.

66: Of] Or Collier MS.

67: fraud...was] Q. fraud...were Ff. frauds...were Pope.

68: leavy] leafy Pope.

72: no, no] ne no F4.

no, faith;] no; faith, Collier.

74: An] Capell. And Q Ff. If Pope.

76: lief] live Q.

79: us] om. Rowe.

night] om. Pope.

82: [Exit B.] Exeunt Bal. and Musick. Capell. See note (XIV).

93, 94: it,...affection;] it,...affection, Q Ff. it;...affection, Pope. it;...affection,— Capell.

94: infinite] definite Warburton.

100: this] Q F1. the F2 F3 F4.

102: tell you] tell Capell.

124: paper] paper full Collier MS.

126: us of] of us Q.

127: was] om. F3 F4.

128: over] ever F2.

sheet?] Capell. sheet. Q Ff. sheets. Collier MS.

133: for] om. Rowe.

136: prays, curses] prays, cries Collier MS. curses, prays Halliwell.

140: afeard] Q Ff. afraid Rowe.

144: make but] Q. but make Ff.

146: alms] alms-deed Collier MS.

156: daffed] Johnson. daft Q Ff. dofft Pope. dafft Theobald.

158: a’] a Q. he Ff.

166: contemptible] contemptuous Hanmer.

169: Before] Q. ’Fore Ff.

172: Claud.] Q. Leon. Ff.

174: say] Q. see Ff.

175: most] Q. om. Ff.

177–182: Leon. If he...make.] Put into the margin as spurious by Pope.

177: a’ must] a must Q Ff. he must Rowe.

183: seek] Q. see Ff.

184: wear] wait Rowe (ed. I).

190: see] shew Rowe (ed. I).

191: unworthy] Q. unworthy to have Ff.

196: gentlewomen] Q. gentlewoman Ff.

197: one an opinion of another’s] an opinion of one another’s Pope.

200: in to] Q F4. into F1 F2 F3. to Rowe (ed. I).

201: SCENE X. Pope.

204: their] Q. the Ff.

214: have] to have Rowe.

215: remnants] Q F1. remains F2 F3 F4.

217: youth...age] age...youth Collier MS.

224: in to] into F3.

225: dinner] See note (XV).

232: knife’s] Pope. knives Q Ff.

choke] not choke Collier MS.

235: in to] into F1.

238: is] are Hanmer. ~~~~~

ACT III.

SCENE I. LEONATO’S garden.

Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA.

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the prince and Claudio: Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse 5 Is all of her; say that thou overheard’st us; And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter; like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 10 Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her, To listen our propose. This is thy office; Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently.

Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 15 As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick. When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit: My talk to thee must be, how Benedick 20 Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay.

Enter BEATRICE, behind.

Now begin; For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 25

Urs. The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait: So angle we for Beatrice; who even now Is couched in the woodbine coverture. 30 Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. [Approaching the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; I know her spirits are as coy and wild 35 As haggerds of the rock.

Urs. But are you sure That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?

Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord.

Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?

Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; 40 But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed 45 As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But Nature never framed a woman’s heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; 50 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 55 She is so self-endeared.

Urs. Sure, I think so; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, 60 But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced, She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut; 65 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 70

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.

Hero. No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me 75 Out of myself, press me to death with wit! Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. 80

Urs. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.

Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with: one doth not know 85 How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! She cannot be so much without true judgement,— Having so swift and excellent a wit As she is prized to have,—as to refuse 90 So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.

Hero. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, 95 For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.

Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. When are you married, madam? 100

Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in: I’ll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urs. She’s limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.

Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps: 105 Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

[Exeunt Hero and Ursula.

Beat. [Coming forward] What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. 110 And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band; For others say thou dost deserve, and I 115 Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, III. 1.

SCENE I. Enter... Ursula.] Enter H. and two Gentlewomen, M. and Ursley. Q.

1: to] into Pope.

4: Ursula] Ursley Q.

9: like] like to Pope.

12: listen our propose] Q. listen our purpose F1. listen to our purpose F2 F3 F4.

14: warrant you] Q F1. warrant F2 F3 F4.

23: Enter B. behind.] Steevens (after line 23). Enter B. Q (after line 25) Ff. Enter B. running towards the arbour. Theobald. Enter B. stealing in behind. Collier MS.

29: even] e’en Pope.

33: false sweet] false-sweet S. Walker conj.

34: she is] she’s Pope.

42: wrestle] wrastle Q Ff.

45: as full as] Q F1 F2. as full, as F3 F4.

51: eyes] Q F1. eye F2 F3 F4.

58: she] sheele Q.

62: She would] She’d Pope.

63: antique] Q. anticke F1.

65: agate] agot Q Ff. aglet Theobald (Warburton).

72: not] for Rowe. nor Capell.

75: She would] she’d Pope.

air] an air Rowe (ed. I).

79: better death than] better death, then Q. better death, to F1. better death, to F2 F3 F4.

80: as die] as ’tis to die Pope.

89: swift] sweet Rowe.

91: Signior] om. Pope.

96: bearing, argument] F4. bearing argument Q F1 F2 F3.

for bearing, argument] forbearing argument Jackson conj.

101: every day] in a day Collier MS.

103: me to-morrow] me,—to-morrow! Anon. conj.

104: limed] Q. tane Ff. ta’en Rowe.

106: Cupid kills] Q F1 F2. Cupids kills F3. Cupid kill F4.

107: mine] my F4.

110: behind the back] but in the lack Collier MS. ~~~~~

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO.

D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

Claud. I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new 5 gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at 10 him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.

Leon. So say I: methinks you are sadder.

Claud. I hope he be in love. 15

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there’s no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad, he wants money.

Bene. I have the toothache.

D. Pedro. Draw it. 20

Bene. Hang it!

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

D. Pedro. What! sigh for the toothache?

Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm.

Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that 25 has it.

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the 30 shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. 35

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs: a’ brushes his hat o’ mornings; what should that bode?

D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber’s?

Claud. No, but the barber’s man hath been seen with 40 him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.

Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.

D. Pedro. Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet: can you 45 smell him out by that?

Claud. That’s as much as to say, the sweet youth’s in love.

D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?

D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I 50 hear what they say of him.

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lute-string, and now governed by stops.

D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, conclude he is in love. 55

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.

D. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him. 60

D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards.

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. 65

D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.

Claud. ’Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet.

Enter DON JOHN.

D. John. My lord and brother, God save you! 70

D. Pedro. Good den, brother.

D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak with you.

D. Pedro. In private?

D. John. If it please you: yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him. 75

D. Pedro. What’s the matter?

D. John. [To Claudio] Means your lordship to be married to-morrow?

D. Pedro. You know he does.

D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. 80

Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.

D. John. You may think I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and 85 in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage,—surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed.

D. Pedro. Why, what’s the matter?

D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady 90 is disloyal.

Claud. Who, Hero?

D. John. Even she; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero.

Claud. Disloyal? 95

D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse: think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window entered, even the night before her wedding-day: if 100 you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.

Claud. May this be so?

D. Pedro. I will not think it.

D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess 105 not that you know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly.

Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should 110 wed, there will I shame her.

D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.

D. John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue 115 show itself.

D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned!

Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting!

D. John. O plague right well prevented! so will you say when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt. 120

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, III. 2.

SCENE II. A room...] Capell.

2: go I] I go F3 F4.

10: hangman] henchman Upton conj. twangman Becket conj.

15: be] is Pope.

21, 22: Omitted by Tieck.

21: Bene.] Leon. Anon. conj.

24: Where] Which Rowe.

25: can] Pope. cannot Q Ff.

30–33: or in the...doublet] Q. omitted in Ff, restored by Pope (ed. 2).

33: no doublet] all doublet Mason conj.

35: appear] Q. to appear Ff.

37: a’] a Q Ff. he Rowe.

o’ mornings] Pope (ed. I). a mornings Q Ff. a-mornings Pope (ed. 2).

45: a’] a Q Ff. he Rowe.

48: D. Pedro.] Prin. Ff. Bene. Q.

53: now governed] governed Anon. conj. new-governed S. Walker conj.

54: conclude, conclude] Q. conclude Ff.

61: face] heels Theobald. feet Mason conj.

upwards] downwards Grey conj.

70: SCENE III. Pope.

76: D. Pedro.] Claudio. Capell conj.

85, 86: brother,...heart hath] Rowe. brother (I think...heart) hath Q Ff.

90: has] Q. hath Ff.

99: to-night,] Q omits the comma.

101: her then,] Hanmer. her, then Q Ff.

110: her to-morrow,] Rowe. Q Ff. omit the comma. her; to-morrow, Capell.

115: midnight] Q. night Ff.

119, 120: so...sequel.] Printed as a verse by Rowe.

120: when you have] when have F2. ~~~~~

SCENE III. A street.

Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES with the Watch.

Dog. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul.

Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen 5 for the prince’s watch.

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.

Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable?

First Watch. Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; 10 for they can write and read.

Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.

Sec. Watch. Both which, master constable,— 15

Dog. You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable 20 of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name.

Sec. Watch. How if a’ will not stand?

Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; 25 and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.

Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince’s subjects.

Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the 30 prince’s subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets; for for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.

Watch. We will rather sleep than talk: we know what belongs to a watch. 35

Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. 40

Watch. How if they will not?

Dog. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for.

Watch. Well, sir. 45

Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.

Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not 50 lay hands on him?

Dog. Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your company. 55

Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner.

Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.

Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must 60 call to the nurse and bid her still it.

Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?

Dog. Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb 65 when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.

Verg. ’Tis very true.

Dog. This is the end of the charge:—you, constable, are to present the prince’s own person: if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 70

Verg. Nay, by’r lady, that I think a’ cannot.

Dog. Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. 75

Verg. By’r lady, I think it be so.

Dog. Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your own; and good night. Come, neighbour. 80

Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.

Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato’s door; for the wedding being 85 there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu: be vigitant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.

Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE.

Bora. What, Conrade!

Watch. [Aside] Peace! stir not.

Bora. Conrade, I say! 90

Con. Here, man; I am at thy elbow.

Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow.

Con. I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward with thy tale. 95

Bora. Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.

Watch. [Aside] Some treason, masters: yet stand close.

Bora. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a 100 thousand ducats.

Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?

Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible any villany should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. 105

Con. I wonder at it.

Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.

Con. Yes, it is apparel. 110

Bora. I mean, the fashion.

Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?

Watch. [Aside] I know that Deformed; a’ has been a 115 vile thief this seven year; a’ goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name.

Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody?

Con. No; ’twas the vane on the house.

Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this 120 fashion is? how giddily a’ turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reeky painting, sometime like god Bel’s priests in the old church-window, sometime like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten 125 tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club?

Con. All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? 130

Bora. Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night,—I tell this tale vilely:—I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio 135 and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.

Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero?

Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but 140 the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as 145 he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’er night, and send her home again without a husband.

First Watch. We charge you, in the prince’s name, stand! 150

Sec. Watch. Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.

First Watch. And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a’ wears a lock. 155

Con. Masters, masters,—

Sec. Watch. You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.

Con. Masters,—?

First Watch. Never speak: we charge you let us obey 160 you to go with us.

Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills.

Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we’ll obey you. [Exeunt. 165

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, III. 3.

SCENE III.] Capell. SCENE IV. Pope. om. Q Ff.

Enter D. and Verges...] Enter D. and his compartner... Q Ff.

8: desartless] disartless F4.

10: George] Francis Halliwell. See note (XVI).

19: no] more Warburton.

21: lantern] lantherne Q F1 F2. lanthorn F3 F4.

24: a’] he Rowe.

32: to talk] Q. talk Ff.

34, 41, 50, 62, 81: Watch.] Watch 2. Rowe.

39: those] Q. them Ff.

55: your] Q F1 F2. his F3 F4.

66: he bleats] Q F1 F2. it bleats F3 F4.

71: a’] a Q F1 F2 F3. I F4. he Pope.

73: statues] F1. statutes Q F2 F3 F4.

79: fellows’] Hanmer. fellowes Q F1 F2. fellows F3 F4. fellow’s Rowe.

counsels] counsel F4.

87: vigitant] Q F1. vigilant F2 F3 F4.

88: SCENE V. Pope.

89: [Aside.] Rowe.

95: with] om. Rowe (ed. 1).

100: Don] Dun Q.

104: villany] villain Warburton.

rich] cheap Theobald conj.

115, 116: a’...a’] a...a Q Ff. he...he Pope. See note (XVII).

116: this seven year] Q. this seven years Ff. these seven years Warburton. these seven year Steevens.

119: vane] Q F2 F3 F4. vaine F1. rain S. Walker conj. See note (XVIII).

122: sometimes] Q Ff. sometime Steevens.

123: reeky] rechie Q Ff.

123, 124: sometime] Q F1 F2. sometimes F3 F4.

124: god] the god Pope.

124, 125: sometime] Q F1 F3 F4. somtime F2. sometimes Rowe.

127: and I see] Q. and see Ff.

129: too] om. Rowe.

137: afar] far Pope.

139: they] Q. thy Ff.

147: saw] had seen Capell.

149: [Starting out upon them. Capell.

153: the] Q F1 F2. a F3 F4.

159–161: Con. Masters,—First Watch. Never...us.] Theobald. Con. Masters, never...us. Q Ff. ~~~~~

SCENE IV. HERO’S apartment.

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.

Urs. I will, lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.

Urs. Well. [Exit. 5

Marg. Troth, I think your other rabato were better.

Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this.

Marg. By my troth’s not so good; and I warrant your cousin will say so.

Hero. My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another: I’ll 10 wear none but this.

Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so. 15

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.

Marg. By my troth’s but a night-gown in respect of yours,—cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, 20 graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t.

Hero. God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy.

Marg. ’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.

Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? 25

Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, ‘saving your reverence, a husband:’ an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody: is there any 30 harm in ‘the heavier for a husband’? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise ’tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes.

Hero. Good morrow, coz.

Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 35

Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune?

Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.

Marg. Clap’s into ‘Light o’ love;’ that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I’ll dance it.

Beat. Ye light o’ love, with your heels! then, if your 40 husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barns.

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.

Beat. ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin; ’tis time you 45 were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho!

Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?

Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.

Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s no more sailing by the star. 50

Beat. What means the fool, trow?

Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart’s desire!

Hero. These gloves the count sent me; they are an excellent perfume. 55

Beat. I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.

Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly catching of cold.

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have you professed apprehension? 60

Marg. Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.

Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, 65 and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prickest her with a thistle.

Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in this Benedictus. 70

Marg. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love: nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart 75 out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, 80 I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?

Marg. Not a false gallop.

Re-enter URSULA.

Urs. Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior 85 Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, III. 4.

SCENE IV.] Capell. SCENE VI. Pope.

Hero’s apartment.] Theobald.

6: rabato] Hanmer. rebato Q Ff.

8: troth’s] troth it’s Rowe (ed. 2).

17: troth’s] troth it’s Pope. See note (XIX).

18: o’ gold] Capell. a gold Q Ff. of gold Pope.

19: pearls, down sleeves] pearls down the sleeves Steevens conj.

skirts, round] Q F1 F2. skirts, round, F3 F4. skirts round, Hanmer. skirts round Dyce.

29: say, ‘saving...husband:’] See note (XX).

an] and Ff. & Q. if Pope.

34: SCENE VII. Pope.

38: Clap’s] Q. Claps Ff. Clap us Rowe (ed. 2).

38, 40: o’ love] Rowe (ed. 2). a love Q Ff.

40: Ye] Q Ff. Yes, Rowe. Yea, Steevens (Capell conj.).

41: see] Q. look Ff.

57: goodly] Q F1 F2. a goodly F3 F4.

65: this] the Capell conj.

76: of thinking] with thinking Pope. o’ thinking Capell.

79: eats] eats not Johnson conj.

83: that] om. F4. ~~~~~

SCENE V. Another room in LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO, with DOGBERRY and VERGES.

Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour?

Dog. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly.

Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. 5

Dog. Marry, this it is, sir.

Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends?

Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God 10 help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.

Verg. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.

Dog. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour 15 Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it 20 all of your worship.

Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah?

Dog. Yea, an ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am 25 glad to hear it.

Verg. And so am I.

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say.

Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship’s presence, ha’ ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves 30 as any in Messina.

Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out: God help us! it is a world to see. Well said, i’ faith, neighbour Verges: well, God’s a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must 35 ride behind. An honest soul, i’ faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men are not alike; alas, good neighbour!

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.

Dog. Gifts that God gives. 40

Leon. I must leave you.

Dog. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.

Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it 45 me: I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.

Dog. It shall be suffigance.

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. 50

Leon. I’ll wait upon them: I am ready.

[Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.

Dog. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now to examination these men.

Verg. And we must do it wisely. 55

Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here’s that shall drive some of them to a noncome: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, III. 5.

SCENE V.] SCENE VIII. Pope.

Enter...] Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough. Q Ff.

4: it is] ’tis F4.

9: off] Steevens (Capell conj.). of Q Ff.

11: honest] as honest Rowe (ed. 2).

23: an ’twere a thousand pound] Capell. and ’t twere a thousand pound Q. and ’twere a thousand times Ff. and twice a thousand times Pope.

30: ha’] ha Q. have Ff. hath Pope.

35: God’s] he’s Pope.

an] Pope. and Q Ff.

ride of a horse] Q F1. ride of horse F2. rides an horse F3 F4. ride an horse Rowe (ed 2).

42: our watch, sir,] om. sir F4.

43: aspicious] auspicious Rowe (ed. 2).

46: it] Q. om. Ff.

47: [Exit Q Ff.

48: Enter...] Rowe.

51: [Exeunt L. and M.] Capell. [Ex. Leon. Pope.

54: examination] Q. examine Ff.

these] Q. those Ff.

56: you] om. Pope.

57: that] that [touching his forehead. Johnson.

57: to a noncome] Q Ff. to non-come Pope. to a non-com Capell. ~~~~~

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A church.

Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and attendants.

Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.

Claud. No. 5

Leon. To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her.

Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count.

Hero. I do. 10

Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it.

Claud. Know you any, Hero?

Hero. None, my lord. 15

Friar. Know you any, count?

Leon. I dare make his answer, none.

Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do!

Bene. How now! interjections? Why, then, some be 20 of laughing, as, ah, ha, he!

Claud. Stand thee by, Friar. Father, by your leave: Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid, your daughter?

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. 25

Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.

Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. There, Leonato, take her back again: 30 Give not this rotten orange to your friend; She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour. Behold how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! 35 Comes not that blood as modest evidence To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows? But she is none: She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; 40 Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

Leon. What do you mean, my lord?

Claud. Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.

Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, Have vanquish’d the resistance of her youth, 45 And made defeat of her virginity,—

Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known her, You will say she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the ’forehand sin: No, Leonato, 50 I never tempted her with word too large; But, as a brother to his sister, show’d Bashful sincerity and comely love.

Hero. And seem’d I ever otherwise to you?

Claud. Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: 55 You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals That rage in savage sensuality. 60

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?

Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?

D. Pedro. What should I speak? I stand dishonour’d, that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale.

Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? 65

D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.

Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.

Hero. True! O God!

Claud. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? is this the prince’s brother? Is this face Hero’s? are our eyes our own? 70

Leon. All this is so: but what of this, my lord?

Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter; And, by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly.

Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. 75

Hero. O, God defend me! how am I beset! What kind of catechising call you this?

Claud. To make you answer truly to your name.

Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach?

Claud. Marry, that can Hero; 80 Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue. What man was he talk’d with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.

Hero. I talk’d with no man at that hour, my lord. 85

D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, Myself, my brother, and this grieved count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window; 90 Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confess’d the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret.

D. John. Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord, Not to be spoke of; 95 There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claud. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed 100 About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, Thou pure impiety and impious purity! For thee I’ll lock up all the gates of love, And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, 105 To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious.

Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point for me?

[Hero swoons.

Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down?

D. John. Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, 110 Smother her spirits up.

[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio.

Bene. How doth the lady?

Beat. Dead, I think. Help, uncle! Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!

Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand. Death is the fairest cover for her shame 115 That may be wish’d for.

Beat. How now, cousin Hero!

Friar. Have comfort, lady.

Leon. Dost thou look up?

Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not?

Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing 120 Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood? Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, 125 Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 130 Why had I not with charitable hand Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates, Who smirched thus and mired with infamy, I might have said, ‘No part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins’? 135 But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her,—why, she, O, she is fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea 140 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, And salt too little which may season give To her foul-tainted flesh!

Bene. Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say. 145

Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!

Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?

Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.

Leon. Confirm’d, confirm’d! O, that is stronger made 150 Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron! Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, Wash’d it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.

Friar. Hear me a little; 155 For I have only been silent so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady: I have mark’d A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames 160 In angel whiteness beat away those blushes; And in her eye there hath appear’d a fire, To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; Trust not my reading nor my observations, 165 Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenour of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error.

Leon. Friar, it cannot be. 170 Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left Is that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury; she not denies it: Why seek’st thou, then, to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? 175

Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused of?

Hero. They know that do accuse me; I know none: If I know more of any man alive Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, 180 Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintain’d the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!

Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. 185

Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.

Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, 190 These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 195 Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find, awaked in such a kind, Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.

Friar. Pause awhile, 200 And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead: Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed; Maintain a mourning ostentation, 205 And on your family’s old monument Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites That appertain unto a burial.

Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do?

Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf 210 Change slander to remorse; that is some good: But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She dying, as it must be so maintain’d, Upon the instant that she was accused, 215 Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find 220 The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio: When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination; 225 And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit, More moving-delicate and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn, 230 If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her, No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape 235 Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be levell’d false, The supposition of the lady’s death Will quench the wonder of her infamy: And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, 240 As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you: And though you know my inwardness and love 245 Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body.

Leon. Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. 250

Friar. ’Tis well consented: presently away; For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure.

[Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice.

Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? 255

Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.

Bene. I will not desire that.

Beat. You have no reason; I do it freely.

Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me 260 that would right her!

Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?

Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.

Bene. May a man do it?

Beat. It is a man’s office, but not yours. 265

Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I 270 deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.

Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.

Beat. Do not swear, and eat it.

Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. 275

Beat. Will you not eat your word?

Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee.

Beat. Why, then, God forgive me!

Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? 280

Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you.

Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest. 285

Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.

Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell.

Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 290

Beat. I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go.

Bene. Beatrice,—

Beat. In faith, I will go.

Bene. We’ll be friends first. 295

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O 300 that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice,— 305

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!

Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice,—

Beat. Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. 310

Bene. Beat—

Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is 315 melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. 320

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.

Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? 325

Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

Bene. Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say 330 she is dead: and so, farewell. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, IV. 1.

SCENE I. and attendants.] om. Q Ff. Guests and attendants. Grant White.

4: lady.] lady? Rowe (ed. 2).

6: her: friar,] Q F1. her, friar, F2 F3 F4. her, friar; Rowe (ed. 2).

9: count.] count? Rowe (ed. 2).

19: not knowing what they do!] Q. omitted in Ff.

42–44: S. Walker proposes to make four lines ending lord?...soul...lord,...proof.

43: Not to knit] Q F1. Not knit F2 F3 F4. Nor knit Steevens conj. Not to be...soul as one line, Steevens (Tyrwhitt conj.).

44: Dear] Dear, dear Capell.

proof] approof Theobald.

48: You will] You’ll Pope.

55: thee! Seeming] Grant White. thee seeming Q Ff. thy seeming Pope. the seeming Knight.

write] rate Warburton conj.

56: You...orb] Becket would put in inverted commas.

seem] seem’d Hanmer.

Dian] Diane Q F1 F2. Diana F3 F4.

60: rage] range Collier MS.

61: wide] wild Collier MS.

62: Leon.] Claud. Tieck.

75: do so] Q F2. doe F1. to do F3 F4.

78: F2 F3 F4 give this line to Leonato; Theobald restored it to Claudio.

81: itself] herself Rowe.

86: are you] Q. you are Ff.

91: most like a liberal] like an illiberal Hanmer. like a most liberal Anon. conj.

94: Fie, fie] Fie Hanmer, dividing the lines, A thousand...are Not...spoke of.

95: spoke] Q. spoken Ff.

97: Thus] Thou Collier MS.

101: thy thoughts] Q Ff. the thoughts Rowe.

108: [Hero swoons] Hanmer.

111: [Exeunt...] Rowe. om. Q Ff.

112: SCENE II. Pope.

118: look up] still look up Steevens conj.

120: Why, doth not] Theobald. Why doth not Q Ff.

125: shames] shame’s F3 F4.

126: rearward] F3 F4. rereward Q. reward F1. reareward F2. hazard Collier MS. re-word Brae conj.

128: frame] ’fraine Warburton. hand Hanmer. frown Collier MS.

129: O,] Q F1. om. F2 F3 F4. I’ve Rowe.

131: I not] not I Rowe.

133: smirched] Q. smeered F1 F2 F3. smeer’d F4.

136, 137: and...and...And] as...as...As Warburton.

140: ink,] ink! Capell.

143: foul-tainted] foule tainted Q Ff. soul-tainted Collier MS.

143–145: Sir, sir...to say] Printed as prose in Q Ff, as verse by Pope.

152: Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie] Q. Would the princes lie and Claudio lie F1. Would the prince lie and Claudio would he lie F2 F3 F4.

155–158: Hear me......mark’d] See note (XXI).

156: been silent] silent been Grant White.

157: course] cross Collier MS.

159, 160: apparitions To start into] Q F1 F2 F3. apparitions To start in F4. apparitions start Into Reed.

161: beat] beate Q. beare F1 F2. bear F3 F4.

165: observations] observation Hanmer.

167: tenour] Theobald. tenure Q Ff.

book] books Heath conj.

168: reverence, calling] reverend calling Collier MS.

170: biting] blighting Collier MS.

Friar] om. Hanmer.

185: princes] Q F1. prince F2 F3 F4.

186: bent] bend Becket conj.

188: lives] lies S. Walker conj.

189: frame of] fraud and Collier MS.

192: of it] it F3 F4.

197: kind] cause Capell conj. MS.

200: throughly] thoroughly F4.

202: princes left for dead] Theobald. princesse (left for dead) Q Ff.

217: it so] so it F4.

219: Whiles] Whilst Pope.

lack’d and lost] lost and lack’d Collier MS.

220: rack] reck Johnson (ed. 1).

222: Whiles] Whilst Rowe. Whist Warburton.

224: life] love Pope.

228: moving-delicate] Capell. moving delicate, Q F1. moving, delicate, F2 F3 F4.

249: I flow in grief] I flow In grief, alas, Hanmer. alas, I flow in grief Capell.

254: [Exeunt...] Exit. Q Ff.

255: SCENE III. Pope.

273: swear] Q. swear by it Ff.

289: it] Q. om. Ff.

290: [He seizes her. Halliwell.

299: he] Rowe. a Q Ff.

311: Beat—] Theolbald Beat? Q F1. Bett? F2 F3. But? F4. But— Rowe. But, Beatrice— Steevens conj.

312: counties] counts Rowe (ed. 2).

313: count, Count Comfect] counte, counte comfect Q. count, comfect F1. count-comfect F2 F3 F4. Count—confect Grant White.

316: courtesies] cursies Q F1. curtsies F2. curtesies F3 F4. courtesy Collier MS. curses Grant White conj.

317: tongue] tongues Hanmer.

328: I leave] Q. leave Ff.

329: a dear] Q F1. dear F2 F3 F4. ~~~~~

SCENE II. A prison.

Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO.

Dog. Is our whole dissembly appeared?

Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.

Sex. Which be the malefactors?

Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner.

Verg. Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibition to 5 examine.

Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable.

Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, friend? 10

Bora. Borachio.

Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?

Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.

Dog. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve God? 15

Con. Yea, sir, we hope. Bora. ” ” ” ”

Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be 20 thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?

Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none.

Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false 25 knaves.

Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none.

Dog. Well, stand aside. ’Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?

Sex. Master constable, you go not the way to examine: 30 you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

Dog. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men.

First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the 35 prince’s brother, was a villain.

Dog. Write down, Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.

Bora. Master constable,—

Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, 40 I promise thee.

Sex. What heard you him say else?

Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. 45

Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed.

Verg. Yea, by mass, that it is.

Sex. What else, fellow?

First Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and 50 not marry her.

Dog. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.

Sex. What else?

Watch. This is all. 55

Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died. Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato’s: I will go 60 before and show him their examination. [Exit.

Dog. Come, let them be opinioned.

Verg. Let them be in the hands—

Con. Off, coxcomb!

Dog. God’s my life, where’s the sexton? let him write 65 down, the prince’s officer, coxcomb. Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet!

Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.

Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down 70 an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow; and, which is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; and, 75 which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that I had been writ down an ass! [Exeunt. 80

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, IV. 2.

SCENE II.] Capell. SCENE IV. Pope.

A prison] Theobald.

Enter...] Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clearke in gownes. Q Ff. See note (XXI).

1: Dog.] Capell. Keeper Q Ff. Town-Clerk. Rowe. See note (XXI).

2: Verg.] Capell. Cowley. Q F1 F2 F3. Cowly. F4. Dog. Rowe. See note (XXI).

a cushion] Q F1. cushion F2 F3 F4.

4: Dog.] Capell. Andrew. Q Ff. Verg. Rowe. See note (XXI).

16–19: Yea, sir...villains] Omitted in Ff, restored by Theobald.

20: go] grow Rowe (ed. 2).

25: ear: sir,] ear sir, Q F1 F2 F3. ear sir; F4.

30: constable] Town Clerk Rowe.

31: forth] Q Ff. om. Rowe.

32: eftest] easiest Rowe. deftest Theobald.

39: constable] Town Clerk Rowe.

44: for accusing] for the accusing Rowe (ed. 2).

47: by mass] Q. by th’ masse Ff.

60: Leonato’s] Leonatoes Q. Leonato Ff.

63, 64: VERG. Let them be in the hands— CON. Off, coxcomb!] Malone. Couley. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe Q. Sex. Let...coxcombe Ff. Conr. Let...coxcomb Theobald. Con. Let us...Coxcomb Hanmer. Sexton. Let them be in hand. Conr. Off, Coxcomb! Warburton. Ver. Let them be in bands. Con. Off, coxcomb! Capell. Let them be in band— Steevens. Let them bind their hands Tyrwhitt conj. (withdrawn). Ver. Let them be in the hands of— Con. Coxcomb! Malone conj. Ver. Let them be bound. Con. Hands off, Coxcomb! Collier MS. See note (XXII).

66, 67: bind them. Thou] bind them; thou F3 F4. bind them thou Q F1 F2.

68: Con.] Rowe. Couley. Q F1 F2 F3. Cowley. F4.

76: is] Q. om. Ff.

78: losses] leases Collier MS. lawsuits Anon. (N. and Q.) conj.

80: [Exeunt.] Pope. [Exit. Q Ff. ~~~~~

ACT V.

Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO.

Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself.

Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; 5 Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so loved his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine, And bid him speak of patience; 10 Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, 15 Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’ when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man: for, brother, men 20 Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 25 Charm ache with air, and agony with words: No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency, To be so moral when he shall endure 30 The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ.

Leon. I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood; For there was never yet philosopher 35 That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance.

Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; Make those that do offend you suffer too. 40

Leon. There thou speak’st reason: nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her.

Ant. Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily. 45

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO.

D. Pedro. Good den, good den.

Claud. Good day to both of you.

Leon. Hear you, my lords,—

D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato.

Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord: Are you so hasty now? well, all is one.

D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 50

Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low.

Claud. Who wrongs him?

Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:— Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword: I fear thee not.

Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 55 If it should give your age such cause of fear: In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

Leon. Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me: I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As, under privilege of age, to brag 60 What I have done being young, or what would do, Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me, That I am forced to lay my reverence by, And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, 65 Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast belied mine innocent child; Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors; O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, 70 Save this of hers, framed by thy villany!

Claud. My villany?

Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.

D. Pedro. You say not right, old man.

Leon. My lord, my lord, I’ll prove it on his body, if he dare,

Despite his nice fence and his active practice, 75 His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.

Claud. Away! I will not have to do with you.

Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill’d my child: If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: 80 But that’s no matter; let him kill one first; Win me and wear me; let him answer me. Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me: Sir boy, I’ll whip you from your foining fence; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. 85

Leon. Brother,—

Ant. Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece; And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains, That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue: 90 Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!

Leon. Brother Antony,—

Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,— Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, 95 Go antiquely, and show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; And this is all.

Leon. But, brother Antony,—

Ant. Come, ’tis no matter: 100 Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.

D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death: But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing But what was true, and very full of proof. 105

Leon. My lord, my lord,—

D. Pedro. I will not hear you.

Leon. No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.

Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it.

[Exeunt Leonato and Antonio.

D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we went to seek. 110

Claud. Now, signior, what news?

Bene. Good day, my lord.

D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part almost a fray.

Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped 115 off with two old men without teeth.

D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.

Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came 120 to seek you both.

Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?

Bene. It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it? 125

D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?

Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.

D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art 130 thou sick, or angry?

Claud. What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject. 135

Claud. Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.

D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.

Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 140

Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear?

Claud. God bless me from a challenge!

Bene. [Aside to Claudio] You are a villain; I jest not: I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your 145 cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.

Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.

D. Pedro. What, a feast, a feast?

Claud. I’ faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf’s-head 150 and a capon; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?

Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.

D.Pedro. I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit 155 the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: ‘True,’ said she, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘a great wit:’ ‘Right,’ says she, ‘a great gross one.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘a good wit:’ ‘Just,’ said she, ‘it hurts nobody.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘the gentleman is wise:’ ‘Certain,’ said she, ‘a wise gentleman.’ 160 ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘he hath the tongues:’ ‘That I believe,’ said she, ‘for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there’s a double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus did she, an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues: yet at last she 165 concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.

Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she cared not.

D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: 170 the old man’s daughter told us all.

Claud. All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.

D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head? 175

Claud. Yea, and text underneath, ‘Here dwells Benedick the married man’?

Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, 180 hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company: your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and till then peace be with him. [Exit. 185

D. Pedro. He is in earnest.

Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.

D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee.

Claud. Most sincerely. 190

D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!

Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.

D. Pedro. But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, 195 and be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled?

Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO.

Dog. Come, you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.

D. Pedro. How now? two of my brother’s men bound! 200 Borachio one!

Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord.

D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done?

Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they 205 are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.

D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why 210 they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.

Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.

D. Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are 215 thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: what’s your offence?

Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could 220 not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; who, in the night, overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments: how you disgraced 225 her, when you should marry her: my villany they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. 230

D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?

Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.

D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?

Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.

D. Pedro. He is composed and framed of treachery: 235 And fled he is upon this villany.

Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first.

Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and, 240 masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.

Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.

Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the Sexton.

Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, 245 That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him: which of these is he?

Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me.

Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d Mine innocent child?

Bora. Yea, even I alone. 250

Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: Here stand a pair of honourable men; A third is fled, that had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death: Record it with your high and worthy deeds: 255 ’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claud. I know not how to pray your patience; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not 260 But in mistaking.

D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I: And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That he’ll enjoin me to.

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; 265 That were impossible: but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died; and if your love Can labour ought in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, 270 And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night: To-morrow morning come you to my house; And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that’s dead, 275 And she alone is heir to both of us: Give her the right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge.

Claud. O noble sir, Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! I do embrace your offer; and dispose 280 For henceforth of poor Claudio.

Leon. To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming; To-night I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was pack’d in all this wrong, 285 Hired to it by your brother.

Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me; But always hath been just and virtuous In any thing that I do know by her.

Dog. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white 290 and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God’s name, the 295 which he hath used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God’s sake: pray you, examine him upon that point.

Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and 300 reverend youth; and I praise God for you.

Leon. There’s for thy pains.

Dog. God save the foundation!

Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. 305

Dog. I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God 310 prohibit it! Come, neighbour.

[Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.

Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.

Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow.

D. Pedro. We will not fail.

Claud. To-night I’ll mourn with Hero.

Leon. [To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on. We’ll talk with Margaret, 315 How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

[Exeunt, severally.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, V. 1.

SCENE I. Before L.’s house] Pope.

6: comforter] Q. comfort F1. comfort els F2. comfort else F3 F4.

7: do] doe Q. doth Ff.

10: speak] speak to me Hanmer.

16: Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’] Capell. And sorrow, wagge, crie hem Q F1 F2. And hallow, wag, cry hem F3. And hollow, wag, cry hem F4. And sorrow wage; cry, hem Theobald. And sorrow waive, cry hem Hanmer. And, sorrow wag! cry; hem Johnson. And sorrow gagge; cry hem Tyrwhitt conj. And sorrowing, cry hem Heath conj. Cry, sorrow, wag! and hem Steevens (Johnson conj.). In sorrow wag; cry hem Malone. And sorry wag, cry hem Steevens conj. And, sorrow waggery, hem Ritson conj. And sorrow-wagg’d cry hem Becket conj. And—sorrow wag!—cry hem Dyce. Call sorrow joy, cry hem Collier MS. Say, sorrow, wag; cry hem S. Walker conj. And sorrow’s wag, cry hem Grant White. And sorrow away! cry hem Halliwell conj. At sorrow wink, cry hem Anon. conj.

18: candle-wasters] caudle-waters Jackson conj.

yet] you Collier MS.

21: speak] Q F1 F2. give F3 F4.

38: push] Q Ff. pish Rowe (ed. 2).

45: SCENE II. Pope.

52: wrongs him] wrongeth him Hanmer. wrongs him, sir? Capell.

53: Marry, thou] marry, Thou, thou Steevens. who? Marry thou S. Walker conj.

63: mine] Q. my Ff.

67: mine] my Pope.

78: daff] doffe Warburton.

83: come, sir boy, come, follow me] Q Ff. come boy, follow me Pope. come sir boy, follow me Capell.

91: braggarts, Jacks] Jacks, braggarts Hanmer.

94: monging] Q F1. mongring F2 F3 F4.

96: and] om. Spedding conj.

outward] an outward Rowe.

97: off] Theobald, of Q Ff.

102: wake] rack Hanmer. wrack Warburton. waste Talbot conj.

patience] passions Anon. conj.

105: what] om. F2 F3 F4.

106–109: Printed as three lines ending No!...shall,...it. by Hanmer.

107: Enter Benedick. Ff.

108: No?] Capell. No Q F1. No! F2 F3 F4.

Come] om. Steevens.

109: Enter Ben. Q.

[Exeunt...] Exeunt ambo. Q Ff (after the preceding line).

110: we] he F3 F4.

114: almost] om. Rowe (ed. 2).

115: like] likt Q F1.

120: a] om. F3 F4.

143: [Aside to Claudio] Edd. See note (XXIII).

149: a feast, a feast?] Q F1. a feast? F2 F3 F4.

150: I’ faith] Ay, faith, Capell conj.

a calf’s-head] Malone. a calves head Q F1 F2. calves heads F3 F4.

151: a capon] a cap-on Capell. capers Collier MS.

156: True] Right Rowe (ed. 2).

said] Q. saies F1 F2 F3 says F4.

157: Right] Just Rowe (ed. 2).

158: says she] said she Pope.

159: said she] says she Steevens.

160, 161: a wise gentleman] a wise gentle man Johnson conj.

164: there’s] theirs Q.

169: an] Hanmer. and Q Ff.

172: God] who Collier MS.

174: savage] Q F1 F2. salvage F3 F4.

175: on] one Q.

184: lady. For] lady: for Q F1 F2 F3. lady, for F4. lady for Rowe.

185: [Exit.] Rowe.

189: thee.] thee? Pope.

193: SCENE IV. Pope.

195: let me be] Q F1. let me see F2 F3 F4. let be Capell.

let me be: pluck] let me pluck Malone conj.

197: SCENE IV. Hanmer.

Enter...] Hanmer. Enter Constables, C. and B. Q (after 192). Enter Constable, C. and B. Ff (after 192).

198: weigh more] more weigh S. Walker conj.

an] if Pope.

211: you lay] lay you F4.

215: Who] Q F1. Whom F2 F3 F4.

222: overheard] heard F4.

232: whiles] while Rowe.

234: Yea, and...of it] Yea; And...on’t S. Walker conj.

and] om. Pope.

richly] rich F2 F3 F4.

235: and framed] om. F3 F4.

240: reformed] informed F3 F4.

245: SCENE V. Pope.

Re-enter...] Capell. Enter Leonato. Q Ff. Enter L. and Sexton. Theobald.

249: Art thou] Q. Art thou thou F1. Art thou, art thou F2 F3 F4.

259: Impose] Expose Hanmer.

me to] to me Capell conj.

264: to] too F3 F4.

265: I cannot bid you bid my daughter live] Q F1. I cannot bid you daughter live F2. I cannot bid your daughter live F3. You cannot bid my daughter live F4. You cannot bid my daughter live again Rowe. I cannot bid you cause my daughter live Collier MS.

285: pack’d] packt Q Ff. pact Collier.

306: arrant] errant F4.

311: [Exeunt D. and V.] Edd. Exeunt D., V. and Watch. Capell. Exeunt. Ff (after line 312). om. Q.

315: [To the Watch.] Edd. ~~~~~

SCENE II. LEONATO’S garden.

Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting.

Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living 5 shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

Marg. To have no man come over me! why, shall I always keep below stairs?

Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth; 10 it catches.

Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer’s foils, which hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the 15 bucklers.

Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think 20 hath legs.

Bene. And therefore will come. [Exit Margaret.

[Sings] The god of love, That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, 25 How pitiful I deserve,—

I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, 30 they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find out no rhyme to ‘lady’ but ‘baby,’ an innocent rhyme; for ‘scorn,’ ‘horn,’ a hard rhyme; for ‘school,’ ‘fool,’ a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: 35 no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?

Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.

Bene. O, stay but till then! 40

Beat. ‘Then’ is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.

Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but 45 foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly 50 hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?

Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to 55 intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?

Bene. Suffer love,—a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart! 60 If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.

Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Beat. It appears not in this confession: there’s not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. 65

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you? 70

Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, 75 is praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?

Beat. Very ill.

Bene. And how do you?

Beat. Very ill too.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I 80 leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter URSULA.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder’s old coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. 85 Will you come presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior?

Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle’s. [Exeunt. 90

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, V. 2.

SCENE II.] Capell. SCENE VI. Pope.

Leonato’s garden.] Reed. L.’s house. Pope. See note (XXIV).

8, 9: me! why, shall...stairs?] me, why shal...staires. Q. me, why, shall...staires? Ff.

9: keep below] keep above Theobald. keep men below Steevens conj. keep them below Singer conj.

23: [Sings.] Pope.

23–26: Printed as prose in Q Ff, as verse by Capell.

29: names] Q F3 F4. name F1 F2.

31: over and over] Q F1. over F2 F3 F4.

32: it in] Q F3 F4. it F1 F2.

33: baby] babie Q F1. badie F2 F3. bady F4. baudy Rowe.

34: innocent] Q F1. innocents F2 F3 F4. innocent’s Rowe.

36: nor] Q. for Ff.

37: Enter Beatrice] Ff. Enter B. Q (after line 38).

38: SCENE VII. Pope.

called] call Rowe.

42: came] came for Pope. See note (XXVI).

48: his] its Rowe.

54: all together] altogether Hanmer.

maintained] maintain Capell conj.

57: first] om. Rowe.

64: this] that Hanmer.

69: monument] Q. monuments Ff.

bell rings] Q. bells ring Ff.

71: Question:] Question, Q Ff. Question? Pope. om. Hanmer.

72: rheum] thewme F3. thewm F4.

is it] it is F4.

74: myself. So] myself so Q Ff.

81: Enter U.] Q. Enter U. Ff (after line 79).

88: in thy lap] on thy lip Brae conj.

90: uncle’s] uncle Rowe. ~~~~~

SCENE III. A church.

Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and three or four with tapers.

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?

A Lord. It is, my lord.

Claud. [Reading out of a scroll]

Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, 5 Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that died with shame Lives in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. 10

Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. 15 Midnight, assist our moan; Help us to sigh and groan, Heavily, heavily: Graves, yawn, and yield your dead, Till death be uttered, 20 Heavily, heavily.

Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night! Yearly will I do this rite.

D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out: The wolves have prey’d; and look, the gentle day, 25 Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.

Claud. Good morrow, masters: each his several way.

D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; 30 And then to Leonato’s we will go.

Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed’s Than this for whom we render’d up this woe. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, V. 3.

SCENE III.] Capell. SCENE VIII. Pope.

2: A Lord.] Lord. Q Ff. Atten. Rowe.

3: Claud. [Reading...] Capell. Epitaph. Q Ff.

3: by] with Capell (corrected in MS.).

9: [Affixing it. Capell.

10: dumb] Ff. dead Q.

13: thy] the Rowe.

knight] bright Collier MS.

15: they] we Collier MS.

20: Till] Until Hanmer.

21: Heavily, heavily] Q. Heavenly, heavenly Ff.

22: Claud.] Rowe. Lo. Q Ff.

23: rite] Pope. right Q Ff.

29: his several way] his way can tell Collier MS.

32: speed’s] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). speeds Q F1 speed F2 F3 F4.

33: whom] which Hanmer. ~~~~~

SCENE IV. A room in LEONATO’S house.

Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, MARGARET, URSULA, FRIAR FRANCIS, and HERO.

Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?

Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears 5 In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforced To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, 10 Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask’d. [Exeunt Ladies. The prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit me. You know your office, brother: You must be father to your brother’s daughter, 15 And give her to young Claudio.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm’d countenance.

Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.

Friar. To do what, signior?

Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them. 20 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis most true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.

Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me, 25 From Claudio, and the prince: but what’s your will?

Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: But, for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d In the state of honourable marriage: 30 In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leon. My heart is with your liking.

Friar. And my help. Here comes the prince and Claudio.

Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, and two or three others.

D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.

Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio: 35 We here attend you. Are you yet determin’d To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter?

Claud. I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.

Leon. Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready. [Exit Antonio. D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter, 40 That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?

Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man; we’ll tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee; 45 As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat 50 Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

Claud. For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.

Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.

Claud. Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your face. 55

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her.

Claud. Give me your hand: before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me.

Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: 60 [Unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero!

Hero. Nothing certainer: One Hero died defiled; but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid.

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! 65

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.

Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; When after that the holy rites are ended, I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death: Meantime let wonder seem familiar, 70 And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?

Beat. [Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?

Beat. Why, no; no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio 75 Have been deceived; they swore you did.

Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason.

Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.

Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me. 80

Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.

Bene. ’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?

Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.

Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.

Claud. And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her; 85 For here’s a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion’d to Beatrice.

Hero. And here’s another, Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. 90

Bene. A miracle! here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, 95 for I was told you were in a consumption.

Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kissing her.

D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?

Bene. I’ll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care 100 for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a’ shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man 105 is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, 110 to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends: let’s have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives’ heels. 115

Leon. We’ll have dancing afterward.

Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight, 120 And brought with armed men back to Messina.

Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers. [Dance.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Much Ado About Nothing, V. 4.

SCENE IV.] SCENE IX. Pope.

...Margaret] om. Reed (1793).

7: sort] sorts Q.

10: you] Q F1. yong F2. young F3 F4.

12: [Exeunt Ladies.] Q Ff (after line 16). Capell (after line 17). Dyce (after line 14).

23: Leon.] Q F1. Old. F2 F3 F4. Ant. Rowe.

30: In the] Q F1. I’th F2 F3 F4.

state] estate Johnson.

31: friar,] om. F3 F4.

33: Here...Claudio] Q. omitted in Ff.

34: SCENE X. Pope.

and...others] and...other. Q. with attendants. Ff.

45: all Europa] Q F1 F2. so all Europe F3 F4. all our Europe Steevens conj.

50: And got] Q F3 F4. A got F1 F2.

52: SCENE XI. Pope.

comes] Q Ff. come Rowe.

Re-enter...] Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula. Q Ff.

54: This line is given to Leonato in Q Ff, to Antonio first by Theobald.

58: hand: before......friar,] Pope. hand before...friar, Q Ff.

60: [Unmasking.] Rowe.

63: defiled] Q. om. Ff. belied Collier MS.

69: you] thee F3 F4.

74: Why, no] Why F3 F4. No Steevens.

75, 76: Printed as Prose in Ff.

76: they swore] Q Ff. for they did swear Hanmer. for they swore Capell.

77: Troth] om. Steevens.

79: did swear] swore Collier MS.

80: that] Q. om. Ff.

81: that] Q. om. Ff.

82: such] Q. om. Ff.

94: not] yet Theobald, now Hanmer.

96: I was told] Q F1 F2 as I told F3 F4 as I was told Rowe.

97: Given to Leonato in Q Ff, corrected by Theobald.

[Kissing her.] Theobald.

99: wit-crackers] witte-crackers Q F1 F2. witty-crackers F3 F4.

102: a’] a Q Ff, Collier. he Rowe.

103: purpose] propose Reed (1803).

105: what] Q F3 F4. om. F1 F2.

112: do] no F4.

116: afterward] Q F2. afterwards F2 F3 F4.

117: play,] Pope. play Q Ff.

118: there is no] No S. Walker conj., making a verse.

122: thee] the, F4. ~~~~~

NOTES.

NOTE I.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Rowe and Pope included in the list of Dramatis Personæ, ‘Innogen, wife to Leonato.’ At the beginning of the first scene the Quarto and the Folios have, ‘Enter Leonato Governour of Messina, Innogen his wife, &c.’ and at the beginning of Act II. Sc. I, ‘Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, &c.’ But as no reference is made to such a character throughout the play, Theobald was doubtless right in striking the name out. The author probably, as Theobald observed, had designed such a character in his first sketch, and afterwards saw reason to omit it. It is impossible to conceive that Hero’s mother should have been present during the scenes in which the happiness and honour of her daughter were at issue, without taking a part, or being once referred to.

NOTE II.

I. 1. 124. The punctuation which we have adopted seems to be the only one which will make sense of this passage without altering the text. We must suppose that, during the ‘skirmish of wit’ between Benedick and Beatrice, from line 96 to 123, Don Pedro and Leonato have been talking apart and making arrangements for the visit of the Prince and his friends, the one pressing his hospitable offers and the other, according to the manners of the time, making a show of reluctance to accept them.

NOTE III.

I. 1. 182, 183. Johnson was not satisfied with his own conjecture, and supposed something to be omitted relating to Hero’s consent or to Claudio’s marriage; ‘something which Claudio and Pedro concur in wishing.’

NOTE IV.

I. 2. 1. We take this opportunity of reminding the reader that when no authority is given for the place of the scene, we generally follow the words of Capell. He, however, more frequently expands than alters the directions given by Pope. At the beginning of the next scene he puts, unnecessarily, ‘Another room in Leonato’s house.’ The stage was left vacant for an instant, but there is nothing to indicate a change of place.

NOTE V.

II. 1. 1. Mr Spedding, in The Gentleman’s Magazine, June 1850, proposed to rearrange the Acts thus:

Act II.  to begin at what is now Act I. Sc. 2, Act III. . . . . . . . . . . . . Act II. Sc. 3, Act IV.  . . . . . . . . . . . . Act III. Sc. 4,

Act V. remaining as it is.

We have not felt ourselves at liberty in such cases as this to desert the authority of the Folio.

NOTE VI.

II. 1. Scene, a hall in Leonato’s house. It may be doubted whether the author did not intend this scene to take place in the garden rather than within doors. The banquet, of which Don John speaks, line 150, would naturally occupy the hall or great chamber. Don Pedro at the close of the scene says, ‘Go in with me, &c.’ If the dance, at line 135, were intended to be performed before the spectators, the stage might be supposed to represent a smooth lawn as well as the floor of a hall. On the other hand, the word ‘entering,’ at line 70, rather points to the scene as being within doors.

NOTE VII.

II. 1. 67. The conjecture of the MS. corrector of Mr Collier’s Folio, which seems to have suggested itself independently to Capell (Notes, Vol. II. p. 121), is supported by a passage in Marston’s Insatiate Countesse, Act II. (Vol. III. p. 125, ed. Halliwell):

‘Thinke of me as of the man Whose dancing dayes you see are not yet done.

Len. Yet you sinke a pace, sir.’

NOTE VIII.

II. 1. 87. Mr Halliwell mentions that Mar. is altered to Mask. in the third Folio. This is not the case in Capell’s copy of it.

NOTE IX.

II. 1. 218. In the copy before us of Theobald’s first edition, which belonged to Warburton, the latter has written ‘Mr Warburton’ after the note in which the reading ‘impassable,’ adopted by Theobald, is suggested and recommended, thus claiming it as his own. We have accepted his authority in this and other instances.

NOTE X.

II. 1. 237. bring you the length of Prester John’s foot: fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard. Though ‘of’ and ‘off’ are frequently interchanged in the old copies, yet, as in this place both Quarto and Folios are consistent in reading ‘of’ in the first clause and ‘off’ in the second, we follow them.

NOTE XI.

II. 1. 284. The old copies here give us no help in determining whether Beatrice is meant to cry, ‘Heigh-ho for a husband,’ or merely, ‘Heigh-ho,’ and wish for a husband. Most editors seem by their punctuation to adopt the latter view. We follow Staunton in taking the former. It probably was the burden of a song. At all events it was so well-known as to be almost proverbial. It is again alluded to III. 4. 48.

NOTE XII.

II. 2. 39. The substitution of ‘Borachio’ for ‘Claudio’ does not relieve the difficulty here. Hero’s supposed offence would not be enhanced by calling one lover by the name of the other. The word ‘term,’ moreover, is not the one which would be used to signify the calling a person by his own proper name. It is not clearly explained how Margaret could, consistently with the ‘just and virtuous’ character which Borachio claims for her in the fifth act, lend herself to the villain’s plot. Perhaps the author meant that Borachio should persuade her to play, as children say, at being Hero and Claudio.

NOTE XIII.

II. 3. 27–30. wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on her. Pope erroneously remarks, ‘these words added out of the edition of 1623.’ They are found in the Quarto, all the Folios, and Rowe. Warburton enhances the blunder by including the next clause also, ‘mild, or come not near me.’

NOTE XIV.

II. 3. 81. We have adhered to the old stage direction in this place, because it is not certain that any musicians accompanied Balthasar. The direction of the Quarto at line 38, ‘Enter Balthasar with musicke,’ may only mean that the singer had a lute with him. In the direction of the Folios, at line 33, only ‘Jacke Wilson’ is mentioned.

NOTE XV.

II. 3. 225. Mr Halliwell says that we ought to change ‘dinner’ to ‘supper’ here and at line 235, in order to make the action consistent, as we find from line 34 that it is evening: ‘How still the evening is, &c.’ Such inaccuracies are characteristic of Shakespeare, and this cannot well have been due to the printer or copier.

NOTE XVI.

III. 3. 10. George Seacole. For ‘George’ Mr Halliwell reads ‘Francis.’ But ‘Francis Seacole,’ mentioned III. 5. 52, is the sexton, and, as it would appear, town-clerk also, too high a functionary to be employed as a common watchman. If the same person had been intended, the error would have been analogous to that in the Merry Wives of Windsor, where Master Page is christened ‘Thomas’ in one place and ‘George’ in another.

NOTE XVII.

III. 3. 115, 116. Here Rowe, contrary to his custom, does not alter ‘a’ into ‘he.’ We do not in all cases notice these perpetually recurring variations.

NOTE XVIII.

III. 3. 119. Mr Halliwell says that he has found ‘raine’ for ‘vaine’ in one copy of the first Folio.

NOTE XIX.

III. 4. 8, 17. The recurrence of this phrase makes it almost certain that the omission of ‘it’ is not a printer’s error, but an authentic instance of the omission of the third personal pronoun. So the first, or second, is omitted in III. 4. 51; ‘What means the fool, trow?’ For other instances, see Sidney Walker’s Criticisms, Vol. I. p. 77 sqq. And compare note XI, Measure for Measure.

NOTE XX.

III. 4. 29. say, ‘saving your reverence, a husband.’ The Quarto and Folios punctuate thus: say, saving your reverence a husband. Modern editions have say, saving your reverence, ‘a husband.’ But surely Margaret means that Hero was so prudish as to think that the mere mention of the word ‘husband’ required an apology.

NOTE XXI.

IV. 1. 154–157. Hear me...mark’d. This commencement of the Friar’s speech comes at the bottom of page, sig. G. i. (r) of the Quarto. The type appears to have been accidentally dislocated, and the passage was then set up as prose. The Folio follows the Quarto except that it puts a full stop instead of a comma after ‘markt.’ Some words were probably lost in the operation, giving the Friar’s reason for remaining silent, viz. that he might find out the truth. The whole passage would therefore stand as follows:

Hear me a little; for I have only been Silent so long and given way unto This course of fortune . . . . . By noting of the lady I have mark’d, &c.

The usual punctuation:

And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady: I have mark’d, &c.

makes but indifferent sense.

‘I have only been silent’ may mean ‘I alone have been silent.’

NOTE XXII.

IV. 2. 1. The Quarto and Folios agree, with slight differences of spelling, in the stage direction given in the note. The Town Clerk is clearly the same functionary as the Sexton mentioned in the second line.

The first speech is given in the Quarto and Folios to ‘Keeper’—a misprint for ‘Kemp’—the name of the famous actor who played Dogberry. All the other speeches of Dogberry throughout the scene, except two, are given to ‘Kemp,’ those of Verges to ‘Cowley’ or ‘Couley.’ Both Willam Kempt (i. e. Kempe or Kemp) and Richard Cowley are mentioned in the list of the ‘Principall Actors’ prefixed to the first Folio. The speech of Dogberry, line 4, is assigned to ‘Andrew,’ which is supposed to be a nickname of Kemp, who so often played the part of ‘Merry Andrew.’ That in lines 14, 15, is given in the Quarto to ‘Ke.’ and in the Folios to ‘Kee.’ or Keep.,’ a repetition of the error in line 1. The retention of these names in the successive printed copies, as well as that of ‘Jack Wilson’ in a former scene, shows the extreme carelessness with which the original MS. had been revised for the press in the first instance, and supplies a measure of the editorial care to which the several Folios were submitted. All that is known about these actors is collected in a volume edited by Mr Collier for the Shakespeare Society.

NOTE XXIII.

IV. 2. 63, 64. Verg. Let them be in the hands. Con. Off coxcomb! The reading of the Quarto is ‘Couley. Let them be in the hands of coxcombe.’ In the Folio, ‘Sex.’ is substituted for ‘Couley,’ without materially improving the sense. The first words may be a corruption of a stage direction [Let them bind them] or [Let them bind their hands].

NOTE XXIV.

V. 1. 143. We have introduced the words ‘[Aside to Claudio]’, because it appears from what Don Pedro says, line 149, ‘What, a feast, a feast?’ and, from the tone of his banter through the rest of the dialogue, that he had not overheard more than Claudio’s reply about ‘good cheer.’

NOTE XXV.

V. 2. 1. Scene, Leonato’s garden. It is clear from line 83, where Ursula says, ‘Yonder’s old coil at home,’ that the scene is not supposed to take place in Leonato’s house, but out of doors. We have therefore, in this case, deserted our usual authorities, Pope and Capell.

NOTE XXVI.

V. 2. 42. The same construction, i.e. the non-repetition of the preposition, is found in Marston’s Fawne, Act I. Sc. 2: (Vol. II. p. 24, ed. Halliwell), “With the same stratagem we still are caught.”

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST.

FERDINAND, king of Navarre. BIRON, lord attending on the King. LONGAVILLE, ” ” ” DUMAIN, ” ” ” BOYET, lord attending on the Princess of France. Mercade, ” ” ” DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a fantastical Spaniard. SIR NATHANIEL, a curate. HOLOFERNES, a schoolmaster. DULL, a constable. COSTARD, a clown. MOTH[2], page to Armado. A Forester.

The PRINCESS of France. ROSALINE, lady attending on the Princess. MARIA, ” ” ” KATHARINE, ” ” ” JAQUENETTA, a country wench.

Lords, Attendants, &c.

SCENE—Navarre.

1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ] first given by Rowe. See note (I)

2: MOTH] MOTE. Grant White conj. ~~~~~

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST[3].

~~~~~ Footnote:

3: See note (II). ~~~~~

SCENE I. The king of Navarre’s park

Enter FERDINAND, king of NAVARRE, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN.

King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live register’d upon our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, The endeavour of this present breath may buy 5 That honour which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge, And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors,—for so you are, That war against your own affections And the huge army of the world’s desires,— 10 Our late edict shall strongly stand in force: Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville, 15 Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes That are recorded in this schedule here: Your oaths are pass’d; and now subscribe your names, That his own hand may strike his honour down 20 That violates the smallest branch herein: If you are arm’d to do as sworn to do, Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.

Long. I am resolved; ’tis but a three years’ fast: The mind shall banquet, though the body pine: 25 Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.

Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified: The grosser manner of these world’s delights He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves: 30 To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; With all these living in philosophy.

Biron. I can but say their protestation over; So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, That is, to live and study here three years. 35 But there are other strict observances; As, not to see a woman in that term, Which I hope well is not enrolled there; And one day in a week to touch no food, And but one meal on every day beside, 40 The which I hope is not enrolled there; And then, to sleep but three hours in the night, And not be seen to wink of all the day,— When I was wont to think no harm all night, And make a dark night too of half the day,— 45 Which I hope well is not enrolled there: O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep!

King. Your oath is pass’d to pass away from these.

Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please: 50 I only swore to study with your grace, And stay here in your court for three years’ space.

Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.

Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. What is the end of study? let me know. 55

King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know.

Biron. Things hid and barr’d, you mean, from common sense?

King. Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense.

Biron. Come on, then; I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: 60 As thus,—to study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid; Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, 65 Study to break it, and not break my troth. If study’s gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know: Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say no.

King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, 70 And train our intellects to vain delight.

Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth; while truth the while 75 Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. Study me how to please the eye indeed, 80 By fixing it upon a fairer eye; Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed, And give him light that it was blinded by. Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun, That will not be deep-search’d with saucy looks: 85 Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others’ books. These earthly godfathers of heaven’s lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights 90 Than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name.

King. How well he’s read, to reason against reading!

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! 95

Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.

Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a-breeding.

Dum. How follows that?

Biron. Fit in his place and time.

Dum. In reason nothing.

Biron. Something, then, in rhyme.

King. Biron is like an envious sneaping frost, 100 That bites the first-born infants of the spring.

Biron. Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast, Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose 105 Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows; But like of each thing that in season grows. So you, to study now it is too late, Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate.

King. Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: adieu. 110

Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you: And though I have for barbarism spoke more Than for that angel knowledge you can say, Yet confident I’ll keep what I have swore, And bide the penance of each three years’ day. 115 Give me the paper; let me read the same; And to the strict’st decrees I’ll write my name.

King. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!

Biron [reads]. ‘Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court,’—Hath this been proclaimed? 120

Long. Four days ago.

Biron. Let’s see the penalty. [Reads] ‘on pain of losing her tongue.’ Who devised this penalty?

Long. Marry, that did I.

Biron. Sweet lord, and why? 125

Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty.

Biron. A dangerous law against gentility!

[Reads] ‘Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.’ 130

This article, my liege, yourself must break; For well you know here comes in embassy The French king’s daughter with yourself to speak,— A maid of grace and complete majesty,— About surrender up of Aquitaine 135 To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father: Therefore this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes the admired princess hither.

King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot.

Biron. So study evermore is overshot: 140 While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, ’Tis won as towns with fire, so won, so lost.

King. We must of force dispense with this decree; 145 She must lie here on mere necessity.

Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years’ space; For every man with his affects is born, Not by might master’d, but by special grace: 150 If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, I am forsworn on ‘mere necessity.’ So to the laws at large I write my name: [Subscribes And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame: 155 Suggestions are to other as to me; But I believe, although I seem so loth, I am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick recreation granted?

King. Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted 160 With a refined traveller of Spain; A man in all the world’s new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain; One whom the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; 165 A man of complements, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: This child of fancy, that Armado hight, For interim to our studies, shall relate. In high-born words, the worth of many a knight 170 From tawny Spain, lost in the world’s debate. How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; But, I protest, I love to hear him lie, And I will use him for my minstrelsy.

Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight. 175 A man of fire-new words, fashion’s own knight.

Long. Costard the swain and he shall be our sport; And, so to study, three years is but short.

Enter DULL with a letter, and COSTARD.

Dull. Which is the Duke’s own person?

Biron. This, fellow: what wouldst? 180

Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his Grace’s tharborough: but I would see his own person in flesh and blood.

Biron. This is he.

Dull. Signior Arme—Arme—commends you. There’s 185 villany abroad: this letter will tell you more.

Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.

King. A letter from the magnificent Armado.

Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words. 190

Long. A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!

Biron. To hear? or forbear laughing?

Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to forbear both. 195

Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness.

Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.

Biron. In what manner? 200

Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all those three: I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park; which, put together, is in manner and form following. Now, sir, for the manner,—it is the manner of a man to speak to 205 a woman: for the form,—in some form.

Biron. For the following, sir?

Cost. As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend the right!

King. Will you hear this letter with attention? 210

Biron. As we would hear an oracle.

Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.

King [reads]. ‘Great deputy, the welkin’s vicegerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul’s earth’s god, and body’s fostering 215 patron.’—

Cost. Not a word of Costard yet.

King [reads]. ‘So it is,’—

Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so. 220

King. Peace!

Cost. Be to me, and every man that dares not fight!

King. No words!

Cost. Of other men’s secrets, I beseech you.

King [reads]. ‘So it is, besieged with sable-coloured 225 melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time when. About the sixth hour; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that 229 nourishment which is called supper: so much for the time when. Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped thy park. Then for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, 234 surveyest, or seest: but to the place where,—it standeth north-north- east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,’—

Cost. Me?

King [reads]. ‘that unlettered small-knowing soul,’— 240

King [reads]. ‘that shallow vassal,’—

Cost. Still me?

King [reads]. ‘which, as I remember, hight Costard,’

Cost. O, me! 245

King [reads]. ‘sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, which with,—O, with— but with this I passion to say wherewith,’—

Cost. With a wench.

King [reads] ‘with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; 250 or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I, as my everesteemed duty pricks me on, have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet Grace’s officer, Anthony Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.’

Dull. Me, an’t shall please you; I am Anthony Dull. 255

King [reads]. ‘For Jaquenetta,—so is the weaker vessel called which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain,—I keep her as a vessel of thy law’s fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty. DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.’ 260

Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.

King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to this?

Cost. Sir, I confess the wench. 265

King. Did you hear the proclamation?

Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.

King. It was proclaimed a year’s imprisonment, to be taken with a wench. 270

Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damsel.

King. Well, it was proclaimed damsel.

Cost. This was no damsel neither, sir; she was a virgin.

King. It is so varied too; for it was proclaimed virgin. 275

Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.

King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir.

Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir.

King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall 280 fast a week with bran and water.

Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Biron, see him deliver’d o’er: 285 And go we, lords, to put in practice that Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.

[Exeunt King, Longaville, and Dumain.

Biron. I’ll lay my head to any good man’s hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on. 290

Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and, therefore, welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! 295

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, I, 1.

SCENE I. The king...park] See note (III).

Biron] F2 F3 F4. Berowne Qq F1 and passim.

3: And...death] Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.

13: Academe] Q2 F2. Achademe Q1 F1. Academy F3 F4.

18: schedule] sedule Q1. scedule Q2 Ff.

23: oaths] oath Steevens. See note (IV).

keep it too] keepe it to Qq F1 keep them to F2. keep them too F3 F4.

27: bankrupt quite] bancrout quite Q1. bankerout Ff. banquerout Q2. quite restored by Pope, and again rejected by Theobald.

29: these] this Collier MS.

31: pomp] pome Q1.

62: feast...forbid] Theobald. fast...forbid Qq Ff. fast...fore-bid Theobald conj.

65: hard a keeping] hard-a-keeping Hanmer.

67: thus] Qq Ff. this Pope.

72: Why,] Pope. Why? Qq Ff.

but] Q1. and Ff Q2.

77: of light] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

83: it was] was it Steevens.

87: base] bare S. Walker conj.

others’] other Rowe (ed. 1).

92: nought but fame;] nought: but feign; Warburton. nought but shame; Id. conj.

103: any] Qq Ff. an Pope.

106: in] on Capell.

new-fangled] new-spangled Grey conj.

shows] F3 F4. showes Qq F1 F2. earth Theobald. mirth S. Walker conj. Malone supposes a line to be lost after line 103.

108: So you, to study] Go you to study, Anon. conj. But you’ll to study, Lettsom conj.

to study] by study Collier MS.

109: Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate] Q1 That were to climb o’er the house to unlock the gate Ff Q2. Climb o’er the house-top to unlock the gate Collier MS. That were to climb the house o’er to unlock the gate Grant White.

110: sit] Qq F2 F3 F4. fit F1. set Malone conj. See note (V).

114: I’ll keep what] I’ll keep to what Collier MS.

swore] F2 F3 F4. sworne Qq F1.

117: strict’st] F2 F3 F4. strictest Qq F1.

123: this penalty?] this? Steevens, reading On...this? as a verse.

127: Biron] Theobald. Qq Ff continue this line to Longaville.

gentility] gentletie Q1. garrulity Theobald conj. scurrility Staunton conj.

130: can possibly] Pope. can possible Q1. shall possibly Ff Q2.

136: bedrid] bedred Q1.

138: hither] rather Collier MS.

146: She] We Capell.

147: us all] us both Q2.

151: speak] Q1. break Ff Q2. plead Collier MS.

153: [Subscribes.] Subscribes and gives back the paper. Capell.

156: Other] Q1. others Ff Q2.

158: will last] last will S. Walker conj.

161: refined] Qq F1. conceited F2 F3 F4.

162: world’s] world’s Qq F1. world F2 F3 F4.

world’s...planted] world-new fashions flaunted Collier MS.

164: One whom] F2 F3 F4. on who Q1. one who F1 Q2.

176: fire-new] fire, new F1.

178: is] are Pope.

Enter......Costard] Malone. Enter a Constable with Costard with a letter. Qq Ff.

179: Duke’s] Qq Ff. King’s Theobald.

182: tharborough] farborough Q1.

191: heaven] having Theobald. haven Jackson conj. hearing Collier MS.

193: laughing] Capell. hearing Qq Ff.

194: and] om. Rowe (ed. 2).

197: climb] F3 F4. clime Qq F1 F2. chime Collier MS.

199: with the manner] with the manor Hanmer. in the manner Warburton.

205: it is] Qq F1. is F2 F3 F4. in Rowe (ed. 2).

220: true, but so] true: but so Qq Ff. true, but so, so Hanmer.

237: minnow] Qq Ff. minion or minim Anon. conj.

239, 241, 243: Me?...Me?...me?] Ff Q2. Mee?...Mee?...mee. Q1. Me...Me...me. Hanmer.

242: vassal] vessel Collier MS.

247: which] with, Theobald.

251: sweet] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

252: meed] need Warburton.

253: thy] Qq F1. the F2 F3 F4.

257: keep] Qq F2 F3 F4. keeper F1.

vessel] vassal Theobald.

260: Adriano] Qq. Adriana Ff.

271: I...I] It...I F2.

272, 273, 274: damsel] Q1, except in line 241 demsel. damosell Ff Q2.

287: [Exeunt...] Exeunt. F2 F3 F4. om. Qq F1.

288: good man’s hat] man’s good hat Capell conj. goodman’s hat Anon. conj.

290: Given to Constable in Collier MS.

293: prosperity] prosperie Q1.

294: till then, sit thee] Q1. untill then sit Ff Q2. untill then set thee Collier MS. ~~~~~

SCENE II. The same.

Enter ARMADO and MOTH.

Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. 5

Moth. No, no; O Lord, sir, no.

Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?

Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior. 10

Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior?

Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?

Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender. 15

Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough.

Arm. Pretty and apt.

Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty? 20

Arm. Thou pretty, because little.

Moth. Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?

Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.

Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?

Arm. In thy condign praise. 25

Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise.

Arm. What, that an eel is ingenious?

Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest my blood. 30

Moth. I am answered, sir.

Arm. I love not to be crossed.

Moth. [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him.

Arm. I have promised to study three years with the 35 Duke.

Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir.

Arm. Impossible.

Moth. How many is one thrice told?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a 40 tapster.

Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.

Arm. I confess both: they are both the varnish of a complete man.

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross 45 sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.

Moth. Which the base vulgar do call three.

Arm. True.

Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now 50 here is three studied, ere ye’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. 55

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 humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French 60 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 65 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. 70

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. 75

Arm. Of what complexion?

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. 80

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?

Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit. 85

Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.

Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours.

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. 90

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, 95 Her faults will ne’er be known; For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, And fears by pale white shown: Then if she fear, or be to blame, By this you shall not know; 100 For still her cheeks possess the same Which native she doth owe.

A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the 105 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. 110

Arm. I will have that 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. [Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better love 115 than my master.

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. 120

Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA.

Dull. Sir, the duke’s pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe: and you must suffer him to 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. 125

Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid.

Jaq. Man.

Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.

Jaq. That’s hereby.

Arm. I know where it is situate. 130

Jaq. Lord, how wise you are!

Arm. I will tell thee wonders.

Jaq. With that face?

Arm. I love thee.

Jaq. So I heard you say. 135

Arm. And so, farewell.

Jaq. Fair weather after you!

Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away!

[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.

Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned. 140

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. 145

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. 150

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; 155 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 160 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 was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid’s 165 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, valour! rust, rapier! 170 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 sonnet. Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exit.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, I, 2.

SCENE II.] SCENE III. Pope.

The same. Armado’s house. Pope. See note (III).

Enter Armado...] Enter Armado a Braggart... F2.

10, 11, 16: senior] signeor Q1. signeur F1.

13: epitheton] F2 F3 F4. apethaton Q1. apathaton. F1 Q2.

22: Little pretty] Little! pretty Theobald.

23: apt] om. Q2.

27: ingenious] Q1 F4. ingenuous F1 Q2 F2 F3.

33: [Aside.] Hanmer.

the mere contrary] Qq F1. the clean contrary F2 F3 F4. contrary Hanmer.

36: Duke] King Theobald.

40: fitteth] Q1 fits Ff Q2.

48: do] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

51: here is] Q1. here’s Ff Q2.

ye’ll] Yele Q1. You’ll FF Q2.

51, 52: it is] is it Warburton.

55: [Aside. Hanmer.

86: green wit] See note (VI).

87: My] Me Q2.

88: maculate] Q1 immaculate Ff Q2.

94: pathetical] poetical Collier MS.

97: blushing] F2 F3 F4. blush-in Qq F1.

107: very guilty] Qq Ff. guilty Rowe.

114: rational] irrational Hanmer.

115: [Aside.] Hanmer.

116: master] master deserves Hanmer.

117: love] F2 F3 F4. loue Qq. ioue F1.

120: Enter...] Enter Clown, Constable, and Wench. Qq Ff. Enter C., D., J. and Maid. Rowe.

122: suffer him to] Q1. let him Ff Q2.

123: a’] Q1. hee F1 Q2. he F2 F3 F4.

125: [Exit. Ff Q2. om. Q1.

133: that] Q1 F2 F3 F4. what F1 Q2.

138: Dull.] Theobald. Clo. Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

[Exeunt D. and J.] Exeunt. Qq Ff.

139: Arm.] Ar. Q1. Clo. F1. Brag. Q2. Con. F2 F3 F4.

148: will fast] will be fast F2 F3 F4.

155: not] om. Q2.

too] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

words] wards Johnson conj.

163: was Samson] was Sampson Q1. Sampson was Ff Q2.

165: Solomon] F3 F4. Salomon Qq F1 F2.

169: duello] duella. Q1.

171: manager] Armiger Collier MS.

173: sonnet] Ff Qq. sonneteer Hanmer. sonneter Capell. a sonnet Amyot conj. sonnet-maker Collier MS. sonnets Grant White.

174: [Exit.] Q1. Exit Finis actus primus. F1 Q2. Finis actus primi. F2 F3 F4. ~~~~~

SCENE I. The same.

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 5 Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. Be now as prodigal of all dear grace. As Nature was in making graces dear, 10 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 judgement of the eye, Not utter’d 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, 20 You are not ignorant, all-telling fame Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, Till painful study shall outwear three years, No woman may approach his silent court: Therefore to’s seemeth it a needful course, 25 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, 30 On serious business, craving quick dispatch, Importunes personal conference with his Grace: Haste, signify so much; while we attend, Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.

Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. 35

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. [Exit Boyet. Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?

First Lord. Lord Longaville is one.

Prin. Know you the man?

Mar. I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast, 40 Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized In Normandy, saw I this Longaville: A man of sovereign parts he is esteem’d; Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms: 45 Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss, If virtue’s gloss will stain with any soil, Is a sharp wit match’d with too blunt a will; Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills 50 It should none spare that come within his power.

Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is’t so?

Mar. They say so most that most his humours know.

Prin. Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest? 55

Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish’d youth, Of all that virtue love for virtue loved: Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill; For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace, though he had no wit. 60 I saw him at the Duke Alençon’s once; And much too little of that good I saw Is my report to his great worthiness.

Ros. Another of these students at that time Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. 65 Biron they call him; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour’s talk withal: His eye begets occasion for his wit; For every object that the one doth catch, 70 The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit’s expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words, That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished; 75 So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love, That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

First Lord. Here comes Boyet.

Re-enter BOYET.

Prin. Now, what admittance, lord? 80

Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he and his competitors in oath Were all address’d to meet you, gentle lady, Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt: He rather means to lodge you in the field, 85 Like one that comes here to besiege his court, Than seek a dispensation for his oath, To let you enter his unpeeled house. Here comes Navarre.

Enter King, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BIRON, and Attendants.

King. Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre. 90

Prin. ‘Fair’ I give you back again; and ‘welcome’ I have not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.

King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.

Prin. I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither. 95

King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.

Prin. Our Lady help my lord! he’ll be forsworn.

King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.

Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.

King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. 100

Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping: ’Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, And sin to break it. 105 But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold: To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. 110

Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away; For you’ll prove perjured, if you make me stay.

Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Biron. I know you did. 115

Ros. How needless was it, then, to ask the question!

Biron. You must not be so quick.

Ros. ’Tis ’long of you that spur me with such questions.

Biron. Your wit’s too hot, it speeds too fast, ’twill tire.

Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 120

Biron. What time o’ day?

Ros. The hour that fools should ask.

Biron. Now fair befall your mask!

Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!

Biron. And send you many lovers! 125

Ros. Amen, so you be none.

Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.

King. Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one half of an entire sum 130 Disbursed by my father in his wars. But say that he or we, as neither have, Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, 135 Although not valued to the money’s worth. If, then, the king your father will restore But that one-half which is unsatisfied, We will give up our right in Aquitaine, And hold fair friendship with his Majesty. 140 But that, it seems, he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to have repaid A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, To have his title live in Aquitaine; 145 Which we much rather had depart withal, And have the money by our father lent, Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is. Dear princess, were not his requests so far From reason’s yielding, your fair self should make 150 A yielding, ’gainst some reason, in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so unseeming to confess receipt 155 Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.

King. I do protest I never heard of it; And if you prove it, I’ll repay it back, Or yield up Aquitaine.

Prin. We arrest your word. Boyet, you can produce acquittances 160 For such a sum from special officers Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfy me so.

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound: To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. 165

King. It shall suffice me: at which interview All liberal reason I will yield unto. Meantime receive such welcome at my hand As honour, without breach of honour, may Make tender of to thy true worthiness: 170 You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; But here without you shall be so received As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart, Though so denied fair harbour in my house. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell: 175 To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace!

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!

Biron. Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.

Ros. Pray you, do my commendations; I would be 180 glad to see it.

Biron. I would you heard it groan.

Ros. Is the fool sick?

Biron. Sick at the heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood. 185

Biron. Would that do it good?

Ros. My physic says ‘ay’.

Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye?

Ros. No point, with my knife.

Biron. Now, God save thy life! 190

Ros. And yours from long living!

Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring.

Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same?

Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Katharine her name.

Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. [Exit. 195

Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?

Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.

Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.

Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter? 200

Boyet. Her mother’s, I have heard.

Long. God’s blessing on your beard!

Boyet. Good sir, be not offended. She is an heir of Falconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended. 205 She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, sir, that may be. [Exit Long.

Biron. What’s her name in the cap?

Boyet. Rosaline, by good hap.

Biron. Is she wedded or no? 210

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.

Biron. You are welcome, sir: adieu.

Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit Biron.

Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord: Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jest but a word. 215

Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not ships? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.

Mar. You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest? 220

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. [Offering to kiss her.

Mar. Not so, gentle beast: My lips are no common, though several they be.

Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree: This civil war of wits were much better used 225 On Navarre and his book-men; for here ’tis abused.

Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom lies, By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what? 230

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle affected.

Prin. Your reason?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire: His heart, like an agate, with your print impress’d, 235 Proud with his form, in his eye pride express’d: His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; All senses to that sense did make their repair, To feel only looking on fairest of fair: 240 Methought all his senses were lock’d in his eye, As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass’d, Did point you to buy them, along as you pass’d: His face’s own margent did quote such amazes, 245 That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. I’ll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his, An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed.

Boyet. But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclosed. 250 I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest skilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. 255

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

Mar. No.

Boyet. What then, do you see?

Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.

Boyet. You are too hard for me.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, II, 1.

ACT II.] om. Q1. Actus secunda F1 F2. Actus secundus. Q2 F3 F4.

Enter...] Rowe. Enter the Princesse of France with three attending Ladies and three Lords. Qq Ff.

1: dearest] clearest Collier MS.

2: who] Qq F1. whom F2 F3 F4.

13: Prin.] F2 F3 F4. Queen. Qq F1.

Lord] L. Qq Ff.

beauty, though] thought Q2.

19: your wit in the praise] Qq F1. thus your wit in praise F2 F3 F4.

21: You ...] Prin. You ... F1 Q2.

25: to ’s seemeth] Qq Ff. to us seemeth Rowe (ed. 2). to us seems Pope.

32: Importunes] Importuous Q1.

34: visaged] Ff Q2. visage Q1.

36: [Exit B.] Dyce. Exit. Q1 F1 (after line 34).

37, 38: Printed as prose in Qq Ff. First as verse by Rowe (ed. 2).

39: First Lord. Lord Longaville] Capell. Lor. Longavill. Qq Ff.

you] ye Warburton.

40: Mar.] Rowe. 1 Lady. Qq Ff. Lord. Hanmer.

I know] I knew F2 F3 F4.

40–43: madam: at...solemnized In] Capell. madam at...solemnized. In Qq Ff.

43: In Normandy,] Mar. In Normandy Hanmer.

44: of sovereign parts] Ff Q2. of soveraigne peerelsse Q1. of— sovereign, peerless Malone conj. a sovereign pearl Steevens conj. of his sovereign peerless Jackson conj.

45: Well fitted in arts] Qq F1. Well fitted in the arts F2 F3 F4. In arts well fitted Grant White conj.

47, 48: gloss...gloss] glose ...glose Q1.

51: none spare] spare none Rowe (ed. 2).

52: merry mocking] merry-mocking Rowe.

55: Who...rest?] omitted by Rowe (ed. 1).

58: power to do most] powerful to do Hanmer.

60: he] she F1 Q2.

61: Alençon’s] Alansoes Qq F1. Alanzoes F2 F3 F4. Alanson’s Rowe.

64: these] the Q2.

65: if] Q1. as Ff Q2.

if...a truth] as...a youth Theobald conj.

69: his wit] Qq F1. wit F2 F3 F4.

76: voluble] valuable Rowe (ed. 2).

80: First Lord.] Lord. Q1. Ma. Ff Q2.

84: much] om. F2 F3 F4.

88: unpeeled] Q1. unpeopled Ff Q2. See note (VII).

89: [The Ladies mask. Capell.

90: SCENE II. Pope.

King.] Navar. Qq Ff.

...and Attendants] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.

93: wide] wild Reed (ed. 1803).

99: it; will] Capell. it will, Qq Ff. it’s will, Rowe (ed. 2).

105: And sin] Not sin Hanmer.

105, 106: And...sudden-bold] As one line in Q1.

114: Ros.] Rosa. Ff Q2. Kather. Q1. See note (VIII).

115–117: As two verses ending then,...quick. in Capell.

116, 118, 120, 122, 124, 126: Ros.] Rosa, Ff Q3. Kath. Q1.

129: a] one Rowe (ed. 1)

134: the which] which Capell.

138: unsatisfied] but satisfied Q2.

142: repaid] repaie F1 Q2.

143: A] Q1. An Ff Q2.

demands] remembers Rowe.

144: On] Theobald. One Qq Ff.

a] Q1 F1 F2 F3. an Q2 F4.

147: father] fathers Q2.

158: And if] An if Delius conj.

167: I will] Q1. would I Ff Q2.

171: in] Ff Q2. within Q1.

174: fair] Q1. farther Ff Q2. free Collier MS.

176: shall we] Q1. we shall Ff Q2.

178: [Exit.] Qq Ff. [Exeunt King and his train. Capell.

179: mine own] Q2. my none Q1. my own Ff. my Capell.

179, 182, 184, 186, 188, 190: Biron.] Ber. Q1. Boy. Ff Q2.

180: Pray] Now, pray Capell, reading as verse.

183–192: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.

183: fool] foole Q1. soule F1 Q2 F2. soul F3 F4.

189: No point,] No poynt, (in italics) Qq Ff. No, (rom.) point, (ital.) Capell.

192: Biron.] Ber. Qq F1. Bir. F2 F3 F4.

[Retiring.] Capell. [Exit. Qq Ff.

Enter Dumaine. Qq Ff.

194: Katharine] Singer (Capell conj.). Rosalin Qq Ff.

195: Enter Longavile. F2 F3 F4.

197: sometimes] sometime Q2.

an] and Q1. if Ff Q2.

197–203: A woman......offended.] Put in the margin by Pope.

202: on your] Qq. a your Ff.

205: Nay, my choler is ended] omitted by Pope.

207: Enter Berowne. Qq Ff.

208–226: What’s ... abused] Put in the margin by Pope.

209: Rosaline] Singer (Anon. N. and Q. conj.). Katherine Qq Ff.

212: You] Ff Q2. O you Q1. See note (IX).

213: [Exit Biron.] Q1. [Exit. Ff Q2. [The Ladies unmask. Capell.

218: Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry. Boyet. And...ships?] Rowe (ed. 2). Lady Ka. Two hot sheepes marie. Bo. And...shipps? Q1. La. Ma. Two hot sheeps marie: And wherefore not ships? Ff Q2. See note (VIII).

221: [Offering...] Capell.

224: but, gentles, agree] Theobald. but gentles agree Qq Ff.

227, 229: Punctuated as in Theobald, observation (which...eyes. Deceave... Q1. observation (which...eyes) Deceive Ff Q2.

230–252: Prin. With-what?...lie.] Put in the margin by Pope.

233: did] Q1. doc Ff Q2.

their] the Q2.

234: thorough] through Q2.

240: feel only] feed on by Jackson conj.

243: where] Q1. whence Ff Q2.

244: point you] Q1. point out Ff Q2.

245: quote] Q2. coate Q1 F1 F2. coat F3 F4.

247: and] om. Q2.

249: disposed.] disposed— Warburton. ~~~~~

Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

Moth. Concolinel. [Singing.

Arm. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately 5 hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love.

Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?

Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in French?

Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at 10 the tongue’s end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like o’er the 15 shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that 20 would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note—do you note me?—that most are affected to these.

Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?

Moth. By my penny of observation.

Arm. But O,—but O,— 25

Moth. ‘The hobby-horse is forgot.’

Arm. Callest thou my love ‘hobby-horse’?

Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love? 30

Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.

Arm. By heart and in heart, boy.

Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove. 35

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, 40 being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.

Arm. I am all these three.

Moth. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.

Arm. Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter. 45

Moth. A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador for an ass.

Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. 50

Arm. The way is but short: away!

Moth. As swift as lead, sir.

Arm. The meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?

Moth. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no. 55

Arm. I say lead is slow.

Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so: Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?

Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that’s he: I shoot thee at the swain.

Moth. Thump, then, and I flee. [Exit. 60

Arm. A most acute juvenal; volable and free of grace! By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face: Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return’d.

Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD.

Moth. A wonder, master! here’s a Costard broken in a shin. 65

Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l’envoy; begin.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l’envoy; no salve in the mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no l’envoy, no l’envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain!

Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly 70 thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l’envoy, and the word l’envoy for a salve?

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l’envoy a salve? 75

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it: The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. 80 There’s the moral. Now the l’envoy.

Moth. I will add the l’envoy. Say the moral again.

Arm. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three.

Moth. Until the goose came out of door, 85 And stay’d the odds by adding four. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l’envoy. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. 90

Arm. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.

Moth. A good l’envoy, ending in the goose: would you desire more?

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that’s flat. 95 Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see; a fat l’envoy; ay, that’s a fat goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. 100 Then call’d you for the l’envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain: thus came your argument in; Then the boy’s fat l’envoy, the goose that you bought; And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in 105 a shin?

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak that l’envoy: I Costard, running out, that was safely within, 110 Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.

Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.

Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.

Cost. O, marry me to one Frances: I smell some 115 l’envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, 120 and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant [giving a letter] to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine 125 honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit.

Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu.

Cost. My sweet ounce of man’s flesh! my incony Jew!

[Exit Moth.

Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that’s the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings— 130 remuneration.—‘What’s the price of this inkle?’—‘One penny.’—‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration:’ why, it carries it. Remuneration! why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Enter BIRON.

Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. 135

Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?

Biron. What is a remuneration?

Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.

Biron. Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk. 140

Cost. I thank your worship: God be wi’ you!

Biron. Stay, slave; I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

Cost. When would you have it done, sir? 145

Biron. This afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.

Biron. Thou knowest not what it is.

Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.

Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. 150

Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this: The princess comes to hunt here in the park, And in her train there is a gentle lady; 155 When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal’d-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon; go.

[Giving him a shilling.

Cost. Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration, 160 a ’leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon! I will do it, sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration! [Exit.

Biron. And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love’s whip; A very beadle to a humorous sigh; 165 A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; A domineering pedant o’er the boy; Than whom no mortal so magnificent! This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy; This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; 170 Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, Sole imperator and great general 175 Of trotting ’paritors:—O my little heart!— And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop! What! I love! I sue! I seek a wife! A woman, that is like a German clock, 180 Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watch’d that it may still go right! Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all; And, among three, to love the worst of all; 185 A wightly wanton with a velvet brow, With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes; Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed, Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard: And I to sigh for her! to watch for her! 190 To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect Of his almighty dreadful little might. Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan: Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [Exit. 195

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, III, 1.

ACT III.] Actus Tertius. F1 Q2. Actus Tertia. F2 F3 F4. om. Q1.

SCENE I.] Rowe. SCENE II. Capell, following Theobald, who continues Act I.

Enter Armado and Moth.] Enter Braggart and his boy. Q1. Enter Braggart and Boy: Song. Ff Q2.

7: Master] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

11: your] Q1. the Ff Q2.

12: eyelids] Q1. eye Ff Q2.

sometime] something Rowe (ed. 1). sometimes Pope.

13: as if] Theobald. if Qq Ff.

singing love, sometime] Theobald. singing love sometime Q1. singing, love sometime Ff Q2.

14: through the nose] F2 F3 F4. through: nose Qq F1.

16, 17: thin-belly] F3 F4. thinbellies Q1. thinbellie F1 Q2. thinebelly F2.

thin-belly doublet] thin belly-doublet Steevens. thin belly’s doublet Collier.

19 complements] ’complishments Hanmer.

21: them men of note—do you note me?—that] Hanmer. them men of note: do you note men that Qq Ff. the men of note: do you note men, that Theobald. them men of note (do you note men?) that Malone.

24: penny] Hanmer. penne Q1 F1 F2. pen Q2 F3 F4. paine Collier MS. ken Becket conj.

37: and this,] Theobald, (and this) Qq Ff.

without] out of Pope.

38, 39: by heart...by her] omitted by Rowe.

45: Arm.] Boy. Q2.

46: message] messenger Collier MS.

53: The] Q1. Thy Ff Q.

ingenious] ingenuous Q2.

57: so] so, so soon Johnson conj.

60: flee] fly Rowe.

61: volable] Q1. voluble Ff Q2.

free] fair Collier MS.

63: Most rude] moist-eyed Collier MS.

65: SCENE II. Pope.

65–121: Moth. A wonder...loose] Put in the margin by Pope.

66: come, thy] Qq F1. no F2 F3 F4.

66, 67: l’envoy; begin] Capell. lenvoy begin Qq Ff.

67, 68: in the mail] in thee male Qq F1. in the male F2 F3 F4. in the vale Johnson conj. in the matter Capell. à the mal Becket conj. in them all Knight (Tyrwhitt conj.).

68: O,] Q1 F3 F4. Or F1 Q2 F2.

plain] pline Q1.

69: no salve] Qq F1. or salve F2 F3 F4.

71: my lungs] thy lungs Edd. conj.

73: word] Qq F1. world F2 F3 F4.

76: page] Moth Rowe (ed. 1).

77: sain] saine Q1. faine F1 Q2 F2. fain F3 F4.

78–86: I will...four] omitted in Ff Q2.

86, 92: adding] making Collier MS.

91: Arm.] Qq F1 Pag. F2 F3 F4.

101: the] a F3 F4.

110: I Costard] Costard Warburton.

114: Sirrah Costard] Marry, Costard Knight conj. Sirrah Costard, marry, Collier MS.

118: immured] F2 F3 F4. emured Qq F1.

121: loose] be loose Collier MS.

122: set thee from] set thee free from Collier MS.

126: honour] Q1. honours Ff Q2.

128: Jew] jewel Warburton.

131: inkle] yncle Qq Ff.

One penny] i. d. Qq F1 F2. i. de. F3 F4. Five farthings Rowe (ed. 1). A penny Rowe (ed. 2).

132, 133: carries it. Remuneration!] Theobald, carries it remuneration Qq F1 F2. carries it’s remuneration F3 F4.

133: French] Q1. a French Ff Q2.

135: SCENE III. Pope.

138: What] O what Q1.

140: three-farthing worth] Q1. three farthings worth Ff Q2.

140, 142, 146, 148, 163: Each of these lines begins with O in Qq Ff. See note (IX).

143: win] om. Q2.

150: know] know it F3 F4.

154: princess] princes Q2.

159: [Giving ...shilling] Edd.

161: a ’leven-pence] a levenpence Qq Ff. elevenpence Rowe.

162: in print] in point Anon. conj. ap. Halliwell.

Gardon] Qq F1. guerdon F2 F3 F4.

163–168: Q1 prints as three lines ending whip...constable...magnificent; Ff Q2 as six lines ending love...whip...criticke...constable...boy...magnificent.

165: a humorous] an amorous Hanmer.

168: so] more Rowe.

169: wimpled] whimp’ring Hanmer.

170: senior-junior] Hanmer (Anon. conj. apud Theobald), signior Junios Qq Ff. signior Juno’s Rowe (ed. 2). signior Junio Pope. Signior Julio’s Upton conj.

dwarf] dwarfe F1.

Dan] Q1. Don Ff Q2.

177: field] file Theobald (Warburton).

179: What! I love! I sue!] What? I love! I sue! what? Hanmer. What? what? I love! I sue! Johnson. What? I! I love! I sue! Malone (Tyrwhitt conj.).

180: German clock] F2 F3 F4. Jermane Cloake Q1. Germane Cloake F1. Germaine Cloake Q2.

182: aright] right Capell.

being a] Qq F1. being but F2 F3 F4.

186: wightly] Edd. whitley Qq F1 F2. whitely F3 F4. witty Collier MS. whiteless Porson conj. See note (X).

194: sue and groan] F2 F3 F4. shue, grone Q1 F1. sue grone Q2. sue, watch, groan Lettsom conj. ~~~~~

Enter the Princess, and her train, a Forester, BOYET, ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE.

Prin. Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.

Prin. Whoe’er a’ was, a’ showed a mounting mind. Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch: 5 On Saturday we will return to France. Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush That we must stand and play the murderer in?

For. Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand where you may make the fairest shoot. 10

Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.

Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say no? O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe! 15

For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now: Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass, take this for telling true: Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. 20

Prin. See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit! O heresy in fair, fit for these days! A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill, And shooting well is then accounted ill. 25 Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t; If wounding, then it was to show my skill, That more for praise than purpose meant to kill. And, out of question, so it is sometimes, 30 Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, When, for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart; As I for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill. 35

Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty Only for praise sake, when they strive to be Lords o’er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord. 40

Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

Enter COSTARD.

Cost. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. 45

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?

Prin. The thickest and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth. An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit. 50 Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

Prin. What’s your will, sir? what’s your will?

Cost. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline.

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter! he’s a good friend of mine: Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve; 55 Break up this capon.

Boyet. I am bound to serve. This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear. Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet [reads]. By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; 60 true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, 65 vici; which to annothanize in the vulgar,—O base and obscure vulgar!—videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion 70 is victory: on whose side? the king’s. The captive is enriched: on whose side? the beggar’s. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? the king’s: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I 75 enforce thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. 80

Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar ’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey. Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then? 85 Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived but I remember the style.

Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile. 90

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the prince and his bookmates.

Prin. Thou fellow, a word: Who gave thee this letter?

Cost. I told you; my lord.

Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?

Cost. From my lord to my lady. 95

Prin. From which lord to which lady?

Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, To a lady of France that he call’d Rosaline.

Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.

[To Ros.] Here, sweet, put up this: ’twill be thine another 100 day. [Exeunt Princess and train.

Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?

Ros. Shall I teach you to know?

Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.

Ros. Why, she that bears the bow. Finely put off!

Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. 105 Finely put on!

Ros. Well, then, I am the shooter.

Boyet. And who is your deer?

Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. Finely put on, indeed!

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow. 110

Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now?

Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was 115 a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, 120 An I cannot, another can.

[Exeunt Ros. and Kath.

Cost. By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it!

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady! Let the mark have a prick in’t, to mete at, if it may be. 125

Mar. Wide o’ the bow-hand! i’ faith, your hand is out.

Cost. Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er hit the clout.

Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.

Cost. Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul. 130

Cost. She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl. [ Exeunt Boyet and Maria.

Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down! O’ my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit! 135 When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. Armado o’ th’ one side,—O, a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan! To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a’ will swear! And his page o’ t’ other side, that handful of wit! 140 Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! Sola, sola! [Shout-within.

[Exit Costard, running.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, IV, 1.

ACT IV.] ACT III. Theobald.

enter...] Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladyes, and her Lordes. Qq Ff.

2: uprising] unrising F2 F3 F4.

3: Boy.] Ff Q2. For. Q2.

6: on] ore Q1.

9: Hereby] Hardby Hanmer.

coppice] copse S. Walker conj.

11–40: I thank...lord] Put in the margin by Pope.

13: madam] om. F3 F4.

14: and again] Q1 and then again F1 Q2. then again F2 F3 F4.

22: fair] faith Collier MS.

23: fair] the F3 F4.

27: do’t] doote Q1.

32: for praise] to praise F2 F3 F4.

35: deer’s] Deere F2.

that] tho’ Warburton conj.

40: a] her Rowe.

42–52: God...will] Put in the margin by Pope.

49, 50: your waist...my wit...your waist] my waste...your wit...my waste Warburton.

49: my wit] your wit Johnson conj.

64: illustrate] illustrious Q2.

65: Zenelophon] Penelophon Collier.

66: annothanize] Qq F1. anatomize F2 F3 F4. annotanize Knight.

67: videlicet] is Capell.

saw] F2 F3 F4. see Qq F1.

saw] Rowe. see Qq Ff.

68: overcame] Q2 F3 F4. covercame Q1 F1 F2.

70: who overcame he?] Qq Ff. who overcame him? Rowe (ed. 1). whom overcame he? Hanmer.

71: the king’s] Q2 F3 F4. the king Q1 F1.

captive] captivitie Q2.

80: Adriano] Q2. Adriana Q1 Ff. Armado] F2 F3 F4. Armatho Qq F1.

87: feathers] feather F2 F3 F4.

92: phantasime] Qq F1. phantasme F2 F3 F4. phantasma Capell conj.

Monarcho] monorcho Q2.

Monarcho] mammuccio Hanmer. {Transcriber's Note: this linenote has been copied here from the original book's ADDENDA.}

99: lords] ladies Johnson conj.

100: Exeunt...] Exeunt. Ff Q2. om. Q1.

101–142: Who is... sola.] Put in the margin by Pope.

101: suitor...suitor] Steevens (Farmer conj.). shooter Qq Ff.

108: the] om. F2 F3 F4.

119: [Exit. Q1.

120: An] And Q1. om. Ff Q2.

121: [Exeunt R. and K.] Capell. [Exit. Ff. Q2.

123: hit it] F4. hit Qq F1 F2 F3.

129: pin] F2 F3 F4. is in Qq F1.

137: Armado o’ th’ one] Rowe (ed. 2). Armatho ath toothen Q1. Armathor ath to the F1 Q2. Armado ath to F2 F3 F4. Armado o’ th’ to Grant White.

139: After this line Collier MS. inserts Looking babies in her eyes his passion to declare.

140: o’ t’ other] at other Qq Ff.

of wit] of small wit Collier MS.

141: a most] F2 F3 F4. most Qq F1.

142: [Shout within.] F4. Shot within. Q1. Shoote within. F1. Shoote with him. Q2. Showte within. F2. ~~~~~

Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL.

Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth 5 like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. 10

Dull. ’Twas not a haud credo; ’twas a pricket.

Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, 15 unpruned, untrained, or, rather, unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said the deer was not a haud credo; ’twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus! 20 O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts: 25 And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be, Which we of taste and feeling are, for those parts that do fructify in us more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school: But omne bene, say I; being of an old father’s mind, 30 Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit What was a month old at Cain’s birth, that’s not five weeks old as yet?

Hol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.

Dull. What is Dictynna? 35

Nath. A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the moon.

Hol. The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, And raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score. The allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. ’Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange. 40

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say, the pollusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside 45 that, ’twas a pricket that the princess killed.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? And, to humour the ignorant, call I the deer the princess killed a pricket.

Nath. Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it 50 shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

Hol. I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.

The preyful princess pierced and prickd a pretty pleasing pricket; 54 Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell: put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket; Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting. If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores one sorel. Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.

Nath. A rare talent! 60

Dull. [Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are begot 65 in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you: and so may my 70 parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.

Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will 75 put it to them: but vir sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us.

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.

Jaq. God give you good morrow, master Parson.

Hol. Master Parson, quasi pers-on. An if one should be pierced, which is the one? 80

Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

Hol. Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine: ’tis pretty; it is well. 85

Jaq. Good master Parson, be so good as read me this letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it.

Hol. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! 90 I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice; Venetia, Venetia, Chi non ti vede non ti pretia. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. Under pardon, sir, 95 what are the contents? or rather, as Horace says in his— What, my soul, verses?

Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; lege, domine.

Nath. [reads]

If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? 100 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend: 105 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire: Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, 110 Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong, That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.

Hol. You find not the apostrophas, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers 115 ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired 120 horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you?

Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen’s lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript: ‘To the snow-white 125 hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.’ I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: ‘Your ladyship’s in all desired employment, BIRON.’ Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath 130 framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen’s, which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king: it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty: adieu. 135

Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life!

Cost. Have with thee, my girl. [Exeunt Cost. and Jaq.

Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith,—

Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable 140 colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father’s of a certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to 145 gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society. 150

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

Hol. 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, 155 and we will to our recreation. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, IV, 2.

3: Hol.] Ped. Qq Ff.

sanguis, in blood] in sanguis, blood Capell.

4: the] Q1. a Ff Q2.

24: animal] animal, not to think Collier MS.

26, 27: Printed as prose in Qq Ff, first as verse by Hanmer.

27: Which we of taste and feeling are, for those...] See note (XI).

do] Q1 Ff. om. Q2.

28: indiscreet] indistreell Q1.

29: see] set Collier MS.

32: me] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

34: Dictynna] Rowe. Dictisima Q1 F1 F2 F3. Dictissima Q2 F4. Doctissime...Dictynna Collier MS.

35: Dictynna] Dictinna F2 F3 F4. Dictima Qq F1.

36: title] tittle F2.

38: raught] rought Q1. wrought Ff Q2.

44: pollusion] Q2 F3 F4. polusion Q1 F1 F2. pollution Rowe (ed. 2).

47: epitaph] epigram Capell conj. MS.

48: ignorant] ignorault Q1.

49: call I] Edd. call’d Qq Ff. I have call’d Rowe. I will call Singer. I call Collier MS.

a] the Q2.

51: scurrility] squirilitie Q1.

54: preyful] prayfull Qq F1. praysfull F2.

54–59: Printed as twelve lines in Qq Ff.

56, 58: L] ell Qq Ff.

56: jumps] jumpt Pope.

58: one sorel] Edd. o sorell Q1. O sorell Q2 Ff. of sorel Warburton. O sore L Capell.

63: Hol.] Nath. Qq Ff. See note (XII).

66, 67: pia mater] Rowe. primater Qq Ff.

68: in whom] whom Q1.

70: my] our Rowe (ed. I).

74: ingenuou] Q2 F3 F4. ingenous Q1. ingennous F1 F2. ingenious Capell.

76: sapit] Q2 F2 F3 F4. sapis Q1 F1.

78: parson] F2 F3 F4. person Qq F1.

79: pers-on] pers-one Steevens.

79–85: Put in the margin by Pope.

81: likest] Ff Q2. liklest Q1.

83: Piercing] Edd. Of persing Qq Ff. See note (XVII).

lustre] cluster F3 F4.

86: Parson] Qq Ff.

89: Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne] F2 F3 F4. Facile precor gellida quando pecas omnia Q1 F1. Facile precor gleida quando peccas omnia Q2.

92, 93: Venetia,.....ti.....ti pretia] Edd. (from Florio’s ‘Second Frutes.’) Vinegia...te...ei non te pregia Theobald. Vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche Q1 F1. Vemchie, vencha...perroche Q2. Vemchie, vencha...piaech F2 F3 F4, Rowe, Pope.

95: loves thee not] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

99: stanze] F1 Q2. stauze Q1. stanza F2 F3 F4.

101: Ah] O ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

102: faithful] constant Ib.

103: were] like Ib.

105: would] can Ib.

110: bears] seems Ib.

112: pardon love this] do not love that Ib.

113: That sings] To sing Ib. That sings the S. Walker conj.

115: canzonet] Theobald. cangenet Qq Ff.

115–122: Here...you] Theobald continues to Holofernes. In Qq Ff they are given to Nathaniel.

117: caret] carent Nicholson conj.

119: invention? imitari] Theobald. invention imitarie Qq Ff. invention? imitating Collier MS.

120: tired] tyred Qq Ff. try’d Theobald. ’tired Capell. trained Heath conj.

123, 124: one of the strange queen’s lords] to one of the strange queen’s ladies Theobald.

125–129: I will...Biron] given to Nathaniel in Qq Ff. See note (XII).

128: writing] Rowe. written Qq Ff.

129: in] it Q2.

Sir Nathaniel] Capell. Sir Holofernes Qq Ff. om. Theobald.

129–135: Given to Dull by Rowe.

133: royal] om. Ff Q2.

137: [Exeunt...] Exit. Qq Ff.

145: before] Q1. being Ff Q2.

repast] request Heath conj.

147: or] Qq F1 F2. and F3 F4.

148: ben venuto] Rowe (ed. 2). bien venuto Q1 F2 F3 F4. bien vonuto F1 Q2. bien venu too Edd conj. ~~~~~

Enter BIRON, with a paper.

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch,— pitch that defiles: defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is 5 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 10 heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, 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 15 not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper: God give him grace to groan! [Stands aside.

Enter the King, with a paper.

King. Ay me!

Biron. [Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid: thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left 20 pap. In faith, secrets!

King [reads].

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: 25 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 shinest in every tear that I do weep: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; 30 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. 35 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. 40

Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!

Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.

Long. Ay me, I am forsworn!

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

King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame! 45

Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.

Long. Am I the first that have been perjured so?

Biron. 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. 50

Long. 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.

Biron. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose: Disfigure not his slop.

Long. This same shall go. [Reads. 55

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, 60 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, 65 Exhalest 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?

Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity, 70 A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o’ the way.

Long. By whom shall I send this?—Company! stay.

[Steps aside.

Biron. All hid, all hid, an old infant play. Like a demigod here sit I in the sky, 75 And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!

Enter DUMAIN with a paper.

Dumain transform’d! four woodcocks in a dish!

Dum. O most divine Kate!

Biron. O most profane coxcomb! 80

Dum. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!

Biron. By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.

Dum. Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.

Biron. An amber-colour’d raven was well noted.

Dum. As upright as the cedar.

Biron. Stoop, I say; 85 Her shoulder is with child.

Dum. As fair as day.

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

Dum. O that I had my wish!

Long. And I had mine!

King. And I mine too, good Lord!

Biron. Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word? 90

Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember’d be.

Biron. A fever in your blood! why, then incision Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!

Dum. Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ. 95

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

Dum. [reads]

On a day—alack the day!— Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: 100 Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish himself the heaven’s breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 105 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! 110 Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiope were; And deny himself for Jove, 115 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, Biron, and Longaville, Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill, 120 Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note; For none offend where all alike do dote.

Long. [advancing]. Dumain, thy love is far from charity, That in love’s grief desirest society: You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, 125 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, 130 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 rhymes, observed your fashion, 135 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: You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To Long. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [To Dum. 140 What will Biron say when that he shall hear Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear? How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit! How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it! For all the wealth that ever I did see, 145 I would not have him know so much by me.

Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. [Advancing. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me! Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These worms for loving, that art most in love? 150 Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears There is no certain princess that appears; You’ll not be perjured, ’tis a hateful thing; Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting! But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not, 155 All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot? You found his mote; the king your mote did see; But I a beam do find in each of three. O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen! 160 O me, with what strict patience have I sat, To see a king transformed to a gnat! To see great Hercules whipping a gig, And profound Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, 165 And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain? And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege’s? all about the breast: A caudle, ho!

King. Too bitter is thy jest. 170 Are we betray’d thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you to me, but I betray’d by you: I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in; I am betray’d, by keeping company 175 With men like you, men of inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for love? or spend a minute’s time In pruning me? When shall you hear that I Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, 180 A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb?—

King. Soft! whither away so fast? A true man or a thief that gallops so?

Biron. I post from love: good lover, let me go.

Jaq. God bless the king!

King. What present hast thou there? 185

Cost. Some certain treason.

King. What makes treason here?

Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.

King. If it mar nothing neither, The treason and you go in peace away together.

Jaq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read: Our parson misdoubts it; ’twas treason, he said. 190

King. Biron, read it over. [Giving him the paper. Where hadst thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. 195

[Biron tears the letter.

King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?

Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.

Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let’s hear it.

Dum. It is Biron’s writing, and here is his name.

[Gathering up the pieces.

Biron. [To Costard] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! you were born to do me shame. 200 Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.

King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack’d me fool to make up the mess: He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. 205 O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.

Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron. True, true; we are four. Will these turtles be gone?

King. Hence, sirs; away!

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.

[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.

Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! 210 As true we are as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood doth not obey an old decree: We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. 215

King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine?

Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head and strucken blind 220 Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty?

King. What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now? 225 My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; She an attending star, scarce seen a light.

Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron: O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull’d sovereignty 230 Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,— Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not: 235 To things of sale a seller’s praise belongs, She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. A wither’d hermit, five-score winters worn, Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, 240 And gives the crutch the cradle’s infancy: O, ’tis the sun that maketh all things shine.

King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.

Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! A wife of such wood were felicity. 245 O, who can give an oath? where is a book? That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, If that she learn not of her eye to look: No face is fair that is not full so black.

King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, 250 The hue of dungeons and the school of night; And beauty’s crest becomes the heavens well.

Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady’s brows be deck’d, It mourns that painting and usurping hair 255 Should ravish doters with a false aspect; And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days, For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, 260 Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.

Dum. To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.

Long. And since her time are colliers counted bright.

King. And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack.

Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. 265

Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colours should be wash’d away.

King. ’Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, I ’ll find a fairer face not wash’d to-day.

Biron. I’ll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here. 270

King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she.

Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.

Long. Look, here’s thy love: my foot and her face see.

Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread! 275

Dum. O vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walk’d overhead.

King. But what of this? are we not all in love?

Biron. Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.

King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove 280 Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.

Dum. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.

Long. O, some authority how to proceed; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.

Dum. Some salve for perjury.

Biron. ’Tis more than need. 285 Have at you, then, affection’s men at arms. Consider what you first did swear unto, To fast, to study, and to see no woman; Flat treason ’gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young; 290 And abstinence engenders maladies. And where that you have vow’d to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, Can you still dream and pore and thereon look? For when would you, my Lord, or you, or you, 295 Have found the ground of study’s excellence Without the beauty of a woman’s face? From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive; They are the ground, the books, the academes From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. 300 Why, universal plodding prisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller. Now, for not looking on a woman’s face, 305 You have in that forsworn the use of eyes And study too, the causer of your vow; For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself 310 And where we are our learning likewise is Then when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes. Do we not likewise see our learning there? O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books 315 For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty’s tutors have enrich’d you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; 320 And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But, with the motion of all elements, 325 Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye; A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind; 330 A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d: Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: 335 For valour, is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods 340 Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper’d with Love’s sighs; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility. 345 From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world: Else none at all in ought proves excellent. 350 Then fools you were these women to forswear; Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom’s sake, a word that all men love; Or for love’s sake, a word that loves all men; Or for men’s sake, the authors of these women; 355 Or women’s sake, by whom we men are men; Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn, For charity itself fulfils the law, 360 And who can sever love from charity?

King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!

Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advised, In conflict that you get the sun of them. 365

Long. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by: Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?

King. And win them too: therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents.

Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them thither; 370 Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masks and merry hours 375 Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.

King. Away, away! no time shall be omitted That will betime, and may by us be fitted.

Biron. Allons! allons! Sow’d cockle reap’d no corn; And justice always whirls in equal measure: 380 Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, IV, 3.

SCENE III.] SCENE IV. Pope. ACT IV. Capell.

1: he] om. Rowe (ed. 2).

2: a pitch] pitch Hanmer.

3: set] Qq Ff. sit Hanmer.

5: and I the fool] and ay the fool Grant White, am I the fool Anon. conj.

6: I a sheep] ay a sheep Grant White.

9: love her] love Rowe (ed. 2).

12, 13: melancholy] mallichollie Qq Ff.

17: [Stands aside.] [retiring. Capell, and at line 21 [Gets up into a tree. id.

24: smote] smot Qq Ff.

25: night of dew] Qq Ff. dew of night Singer (Musgrave conj.).

34: wilt] will Q1.

36: dost thou] Qq Ff. thou dost Singer (Collier MS.).

43: perjure] perjurd F2.

49: triumviry] Rowe (ed. 2). triumphery Qq F1 F2. triumphry F3 F4. triumvirate Rowe (ed. 1).

55: slop] Theobald. shop Qq Ff. shape Egerton MS.

57: cannot] could not ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

59: deserve] deserves Q2.

62: earthly] earthy F3 F4.

64: Vows are but breath] My vow was breath ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

65: which on my earth dost] that on this earth doth Ib.

66: Exhalest] Exhale Ib.

67: If broken then,] Q1 Ff. If broken, then Q2 ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

69: lose] F4. loose Qq F1 F2 F3. breake ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

71: idolatry] ydotarie Q1.

72: God amend!] God amend us! Collier MS.

[Enter Dumaine. Qq Ff.

76: fools’] souls’ S. Walker conj.

77: [Enter Dumaine, with a paper.] Dyce.

81: wonder] woonder Q1.

in] Q1. of Ff Q2.

82: not, corporal] but corporal Theobald. most corporal Collier MS.

83: hairs] hair Capell conj.

for foul...quoted] fourfold...coated] Jackson conj.

hath] have Rowe.

quoted] coted Qq Ff.

85, 86: Stoop...child. As one line in Qq Ff. Corrected by Theobald.

89: I] Johnson. om. Qq Ff.

97: [reads] reads his sonnet Qq Ff.

98: month is ever May] Q1. month is every May Ff Q2. every month is May Anon conj.

is] was ‘England’s Helicon.’

101: velvet leaves the] velvet, leaves the Qq F1 F2 F3. velvet leaves, the F4.

102: can] ’gan Theobald, gan ‘England’s Helicon’ and ‘the Passionate Pilgrim.’

103 lover] shepheard ‘England’s Helicon.’

104: Wish] Qq F1. wish’d F2 F3 F4. ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

105: may blow] to blow F3 F4.

106: Air.] Ah! Johnson conj.

107: alack] alas ‘Passionate Pilgrim,’ and ‘England’s Helicon.’

is] hath Ib.

108: thorn] Rowe (ed. 2) (from ‘England’s Helicon’), throne Qq Ff, ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’

111, 112: Do...thee] om. ‘Passionate Pilgrim,’ and ‘England’s Helicon.’

113: Thou] Thee Singer.

whom Jove] whom ev’n Jove Rowe (ed. 2). whose love Jove S. Walker conj. (withdrawn). whom great Jove Collier MS.

118: fasting] fest’ring Theobald conj. lasting Capell.

126: o’erheard] ore-hard Q1.

127: you blush;] do, blush; Capell conj. blush you: Collier MS. your blush: S. Walker conj.

128: chide] chid F2.

129: Maria:] Maria? Qq F1 F2. Maria, F3 F4.

137: Ay] Ah Rowe (ed. 1).

138: One, her] One her Q1. On her F1 Q2. Her F2 F3 F4. One’s S. Walker conj.

139: [To Long.] Johnson.

140: [To Dum.] Johnson.

142: Faith] Qq F1. A faith F2 F3 F4. Of faith or Faith so, or Such faith S. Walker conj. Faiths Delius conj. See note (XIII).

zeal] a zeal F2.

144: leap] geap Warburton.

145: I] eye Capell conj.

147: [Advancing.] Coming from his tree. Capell.

150: art] Qq F1. are F2 F3 F4.

151: coaches; in] Hanmer. coaches in Rowe (ed. 2). couches in Qq Ff. loaches in Grey conj.

157: mote...mote] Rowe. moth...moth Qq Ff.

162: gnat] knot Theobald. sot Johnson conj. knott Collins conj. quat Becket conj.

164: to tune] Q1. tuning Ff Q2.

166: toys] toyles Q2.

170: caudle] Q1. candle Ff Q2.

172: to me...by you] Capell. by me...to you Qq Ff. by me...by you Theobald.

176: men like you, men of inconstancy] Dyce (S. Walker conj.). men like men of inconstancy Qq F1. men, like men of strange inconstancy F2 F3 F4 (strang F2). vane-like men of strange inconstancy Hanmer (Warburton). moon-like men of strange inconstancy Steevens (Mason conj.). men, like men of such inconstancy Tieck conj. men-like women of inconstancy Collier conj. men like you, men all inconstancy Lettsom conj. men like women for inconstancy Anon. conj.

178: love] Love Q1. (Duke of Devonshire’s copy). Ione Q1. Ioane Qq F1 F2. Joan F3 F4. See note (XIV).

179–182: In pruning......limb?] Printed as prose in Qq Ff, corrected by Rowe (ed. 2).

185: present] presentment Singer. peasant Collier MS.

[Offering a paper. Capell.

188: away] om. F2 F3 F4.

190: parson] person Qq Ff.

’twas] Q1. it was Ff Q2.

191: [Giving...paper.] Capell. [He reads the letter. Qq Ff.

195: [Biron...letter.] Capell.

196: is in] Qq F1 F2. mean F3 F4.

199: [Gathering...] Capell.

201: lord] liege Capell (corrected in MS.).

204: and you, and you] and you Reed (1803).

207, 208: True...gone?] Printed as one line in Qq Ff.

209: [Exeunt...] Exit. F2. om. Q1 F1.

212: show] shew Q1. will shew Ff Q2.

214: were] Q1 F3 F4. are F1 Q2 F2.

217: quoth you] om. Capell.

220: strucken] F4. strooken Qq F1 F2 F3.

237: then] and Capell.

244: wood] Rowe (ed. 1). word Qq Ff. See note (XV).

250: Black is] Black as F3 F4.

251: school] F3 F4. schoole Qq F1. F2. scowl Theobald (Warburton). stole Hanmer (Theobald conj.). soul Thirlby conj. soil Dyce conj. shade Collier MS. scroll, shroud, or seal Halliwell conj. suit Edd. conj. See note (XVI).

252: Given to Biron by Hanmer.

crest] dress Hanmer. crete Warburton. craye Edwards conj. cresset Becket conj. best Collier MS.

254: brows] brow F4.

255: and] F4. om. Qq F1. an F2 F3.

usurping] usurped Hanmer.

258: the days] these days Collier MS.

262: black] blake Q1.

264: crack] Q2 F3 F4. crake Q1 F1 F2.

sweet] swart Anon. conj.

267: their] her Q2.

276: lies] lyes? Qq Ff.

279: Nothing] F2 F3 F4. O nothing Qq F1. See note (IX).

285: ’Tis] S. Walker conj. O Id. conj. O tis Qq Ff. See note (XVII).

286: affection’s men] affections men Qq F1 F2. affections, men F3 F4.

289: ’gainst] against Q2.

293: have] hath Rowe (ed. 2).

295: See note (XVIII).

301: prisons] Theobald. poysons Qq Ff.

304: sinewy] sinnowy Qq Ff.

309: beauty] duty Warburton. learning Collier MS.

312, 313: eyes, Do] F2 F3 F4. eyes With our selves Do Qq F1.

318: numbers] notions Hanmer.

319: beauty’s] beautis Q1. beauties Ff. Q2. beauteous Hanmer.

332: head] hand Griffith conj. heed Anon. conj.

theft] thrift Theobald.

335: dainty Bacchus] F2 F3 F4. dainty, Bacchus Qq. F1.

336: valour] savour Theobald. flavour Griffith conj.

338: Sphinx] a Sphinx F3 F4.

339: This line printed twice in F2.

340: speaks,......gods] speaks (the voice of all) the gods Tyrwhitt conj.

340, 341: the voice......heaven] the voice makes all the gods Of heaven Farmer conj.

341: Make] Makes Hanmer. Mark, Theobald (Warburton). Wakes drowsy heaven Becket conj. Wakes heaven, drowsy Jackson conj. See note (XIX).

the] its Steevens conj.

343: sighs] tears Griffith conj.

345: humility] humanity Griffith conj.

354: that loves all men] that moves all men Hanmer. all women love Warburton. that joyes all men Heath conj. that leads all men Mason conj.

355: men’s] man’s Anon. conj.

authors] Capell. author Qq Ff.

women] words Farmer conj.

356: Or] For Warburton conj. transposing lines 355, 356.

women’s] womans F4.

357: Let us] F2 F3 F4. Lets us Q1. Let’s F1 Q2.

357, 358: lose...lose] F4. loose...loose Qq F1 F2 F3.

363: standards] standars Q1.

365: conflict] conflish F2.

376: her] his Capell conj.

378: betime] Rowe (ed. 2) be time Qq Ff. betide Staunton conj.

379: Allons! allons] Theobald (Warburton). Alone, alone Qq Ff. ~~~~~

Hol. Satis quod sufficit.

Nath. I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse 5 this quondam day with a companion of the king’s, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.

Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, 10 and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.

Nath. A most singular and choice epithet.

[Draws out his table-book.

Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical 15 phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt, —d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abbreviated ne. This is 20 abhominable,—which he would call abbominable: it insinuateth me of insanie: ne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.

Nath. Laus Deo, bene intelligo.

Hol. Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian! a little scratched, 25 ’twill serve.

Nath. Videsne quis venit?

Hol. Video, et gaudeo.

Enter ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD.

Arm. Chirrah! [To Moth.

Hol. Quare chirrah, not sirrah? 30

Arm. Men of peace, well encountered.

Hol. Most military sir, salutation.

Moth. [Aside to Costard] They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.

Cost. O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of 35 words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabi- litudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.

Moth. Peace! the peal begins.

Arm. [To Hol.] Monsieur, are you not lettered? 40

Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-book. What is a, b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head?

Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

Moth. Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning. 45

Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant?

Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I.

Hol. I will repeat them,—a, e, i,—

Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it,—o, u. 50

Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit,—snip, snap, quick and home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!

Moth. Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.

Hol. What is the figure? what is the figure? 55

Moth. Horns.

Hol. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig.

Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circum circa,—a gig of a cuckold’s horn.

Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou 60 shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it 65 ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.

Hol. O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.

Arm. Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain? 70

Hol. Or mons, the hill.

Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.

Hol. I do, sans question.

Arm. Sir, it is the king’s most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the princess at her pavilion in the 75 posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.

Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon: the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do assure you, 80 sir, I do assure.

Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy head: and among 85 other important and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let that pass: for I must tell thee, it will please his Grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let 90 that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pass. The very all of all is,—but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy,—that the king would have me present 95 the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or firework. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave 100 your assistance.

Hol. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistants, at the king’s command, and this most gallant, illustrate, 105 and learned gentleman, before the princess; I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.

Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?

Hol. Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman, 110 Judas Maccabæus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules,—

Arm. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that Worthy’s thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.

Hol. Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules 115 in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.

Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry, “Well done, Hercules! now thou crushest the snake!” that is the way to make an offence gracious, 120 though few have the grace to do it.

Arm. For the rest of the Worthies?—

Hol. I will play three myself.

Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!

Arm. Shall I tell you a thing? 125

Hol. We attend.

Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I beseech you, follow.

Hol. Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while. 130

Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir.

Hol. Allons! we will employ thee.

Dull. I’ll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.

Hol. Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away! 135

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, V, 1.

ACT V.] Actus Quartus Ff Q2.

1: quod] Rowe. quid Qq Ff.

2: sir] om. Q2.

4: affection] Qq F1. affectation F2 F3 F4.

8: hominem] F3 F4. hominum Qq F1 F2.

tanquam] tanquem Rowe.

11: picked] piqued Becket conj.

13: [Draws...] F3 F4. Draw... Qq F1 F2.

17: orthography] ortagriphie Q1 F1. ortographie Q2. ortagriphy F2. ortagraphy F3 F4.

21: he] we F3 F4.

abbominable] Q1. abhominable F1 F2. abominable F3 F4.

22: me] Qq Ff. to me Hanmer. men Farmer conj. one Collier MS.

insanie] Theobald (Warburton conj.). infamie Qq Ff. insanity Warburton. insanire S. Walker conj. insania Collier MS.

ne] nonne Johnson conj.

22: make] be mad Johnson conj. wax Dyce conj.

24: bene] bone Theobald.

25: Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian!] Edd. bome boon for boon prescian; Qq Ff. Bone?—bone for bene; Priscian Theobald. See note (XX).

scratched] scratcht Qq F1. scarch F2 F3. search F4. scratch Pope.

26: SCENE II. Pope.

34: stolen] stole F2 F3 F4.

the] om. Q2.

47: third] Theobald. last Qq Ff.

51: wave] wane Q1.

57: disputest] F4. disputes Qq F1. disputes’t F2 F3.

59: circum circa] Theobald. unum cita Qq Ff. manu cita Anon. conj.

66, 67: dunghill...dunghill] dungil...dunghel Qq F1 F2 F3. dunghil...dunghel F4.

68: preambulate] Edd. preambulat Qq Ff. prœambula Theobald.

singuled] Q1. singled Ff Q2.

70: charge-house] church-house Theobald conj. large house Collier MS.

74: most] om. Q2.

80: chose] Qq F2. choise F2. choice F3 F4.

you] om. Q2.

83: very] my very Rowe.

84: remember] refrain Capell. remember not Malone.

thy] my Jackson conj.

86: important] importunt Q1. importunate Ff Q2.

95: secrecy] F2 F3 F4. secretie Q1. secrecie F1 Q2. secretly Rowe.

99: breaking out] breakings-out Capell.

103: Sir] Rowe. Sir Holofernes Qq Ff. Sir [To Nathaniel.] Hanmer. Sir Nathaniel Capell.

104: rendered] rended Q1.

assistants] Qq Ff. assistance Heath conj.

105: at] om. Qq F1. at F2 F3 F4.

106: gentleman] gentleman’s Capell conj.

110: myself and] om. Rowe. myself or Capell. myself David Nicholson conj. See note (XXI).

gentleman] man Theobald.

112: pass] pass for Capell. pass as Edd. conj.

the page] and the page Rowe.

121: do] know Hanmer.

127: antique. I beseech you] antick, I beseech you, to Collier MS.

132: Allons] alone Qq Ff.

133, 134: Printed as verse first by Dyce (S. Walker conj.).

133: or I will] or will F3 F4. ~~~~~

Enter the Princess, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA.

Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in: A lady wall’d about with diamonds! Look you what I have from the loving king.

Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that? 5

Prin. Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper, Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.

Ros. That was the way to make his godhead wax, 10 For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

Ros. You’ll ne’er be friends with him; a’ kill’d your sister.

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; And so she died: had she been light, like you, 15 Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died: And so may you; for a light heart lives long.

Ros. What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. 20

Ros. We need more light to find your meaning out.

Kath. You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff; Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.

Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i’ th’ dark.

Kath. So do not you, for you are a light wench. 25

Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.

Kath. You weigh me not?—O, that’s you care not for me.

Ros. Great reason; for ‘past cure is still past care.’

Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d. But, Rosaline, you have a favour too: 30 Who sent it? and what is it?

Ros. I would you knew: An if my face were but as fair as yours, My favour were as great; be witness this. Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron: The numbers true; and, were the numbering too, 35 I were the fairest goddess on the ground: I am compared to twenty thousand fairs. O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

Prin. Any thing like?

Ros. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise. 40

Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

Ros. ’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter: O that your face were not so full of O’s! 45

Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.

Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

Kath. Madam, this glove.

Prin. Did he not send you twain?

Kath. Yes, madam, and, moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, 50 A huge translation of hypocrisy, Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

Mar. This and these pearls to me sent Longaville: The letter is too long by half a mile.

Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart 55 The chain were longer and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go: 60 O that I knew he were but in by the week! How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, And shape his service wholly to my hests, 65 And make him proud to make me proud that jests! So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state, That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d, As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d, 70 Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school, And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.

Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.

Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note 75 As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

Enter BOYET.

Boyet. O, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her Grace? 80

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare! Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised, Armed in arguments; you’ll be surprised: Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; 85 Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.

Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; 90 When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest, Toward that shade I might behold addrest The king and his companions: warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear; 95 That, by and by, disguised they will be here. Their herald is a pretty knavish page, That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage: Action and accent did they teach him there; ‘Thus must thou speak,’ and ‘thus thy body bear:’ 100 And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majestical would put him out; ‘For,’ quoth the king, ‘an angel shalt thou see; Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’ The boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil; 105 I should have fear’d her, had she been a devil.’ With that, all laugh’d, and clapp’d him on the shoulder, Making the bold wag by their praises bolder: One rubb’d his elbow thus, and fleer’d and swore A better speech was never spoke before; 110 Another, with his finger and his thumb, Cried, ‘Via! we will do’t, come what will come;’ The third he caper’d, and cried, ‘All goes well;’ The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell. With that, they all did tumble on the ground, 115 With such a zealous laughter, so profound, That in this spleen ridiculous appears, To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.

Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?

Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparell’d thus, 120 Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance; And every one his love-feat will advance Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know By favours several which they did bestow. 125

Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task’d; For, ladies, we will every one be mask’d; And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face. Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear, 130 And then the king will court thee for his dear; Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine, So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. And change you favours too; so shall your loves Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. 135

Ros. Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight.

Kath. But in this changing what is your intent?

Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs: They do it but in mocking merriment; And mock for mock is only my intent. 140 Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display’d, to talk and greet.

Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t? 145

Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a foot: Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace; But while ’tis spoke each turn away her face.

Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part. 150

Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out. There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown; To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own: So shall we stay, mocking intended game, 155 And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame.

[Trumpets sound within.

Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask.

Enter Blackamoors with music; MOTH; the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Russian habits, and masked.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—

Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames 160 [The Ladies turn their backs to him. That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views!

Biron. [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!— Out—

Boyet. True; out indeed.

Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe 165 Not to behold—

Biron. [Aside to Moth] Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, —with your sun-beamed eyes—

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet; 170 You were best call it ‘daughter-beamed eyes.’

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.

Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue!

Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet: If they do speak our language, ’tis our will 175 That some plain man recount their purposes: Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the princess?

Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

Ros. What would they, say they? 180

Boyet. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.

Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.

King. Say to her, we have measured many miles To tread a measure with her on this grass. 185

Boyet. They say, that they have measured many a mile To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measured many, The measure then of one is easily told. 190

Boyet. If to come hither you have measured miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell How many inches doth fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

Boyet. She hears herself.

Ros. How many weary steps, 195 Of many weary miles you have o’ergone, Are number’d in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you: Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. 200 Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.

King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine, 205 Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water.

King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change. Thou bid’st me beg: this begging is not strange. 210

Ros. Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays. Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.

King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?

Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.

King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. 215 The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.

King. But your legs should do it.

Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance, We’ll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.

King. Why take we hands, then?

Ros. Only to part friends: 220 Curtsey, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.

Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.

King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your company?

Ros. Your absence only.

King. That can never be. 225

Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.

Ros. In private, then.

King. I am best pleased with that.

[They converse apart.

Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. 230

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

Biron. Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice, Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice! There’s half-a-dozen sweets.

Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu: Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you. 235

Biron. One word in secret.

Prin. Let it not be sweet.

Biron. Thou grievest my gall.

Prin. Gall! bitter.

Biron. Therefore meet.

Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

Mar. Name it.

Dum. Fair lady,—

Mar. Say you so? Fair lord,— Take that for your fair lady.

Dum. Please it you, 240 As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. [They converse apart.

Kath. What, was your vizard made without a tongue?

Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

Kath. O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.

Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, 245 And would afford my speechless vizard half.

Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not ‘veal’ a calf?

Long. A calf, fair lady!

Kath. No, a fair lord calf.

Long. Let’s part the word.

Kath. No, I’ll not be your half: Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. 250

Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks! Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.

Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.

Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.

Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. 255

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor’s edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the sense of sense; so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings 260 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!

King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. 265 [Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors. Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?

Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d out.

Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night? 270 Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces? This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.

Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit. 275

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart; And trow you what he call’d me?

Prin. Qualm, perhaps.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, sickness as thou art! 280

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.

Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.

Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. 285

Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes; for it can never be They will digest this harsh indignity.

Prin. Will they return?

Boyet. They will, they will, God knows, 290 And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore change favours; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.

Boyet. Fair ladies mask’d are roses in their bud; 295 Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo?

Ros. Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised, 300 Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; And wonder what they were and to what end Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn’d, 305 And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.

Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o’er land.

[Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria.

Re-enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habits.

King. Fair sir, God save you! Where’s the princess? 310

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.

Biron. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease, 315 And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit’s pedler, and retails his wares At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. 320 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, 325 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: 330 This is the flower that smiles on every one, To show his teeth as white as whale’s 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, 335 That put Armado’s page out of his part!

Biron. See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou Till this madman show’d thee? and what art thou now?

Re-enter the Princess, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARIN..

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

Prin. ‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive. 340

King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.

Prin. 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.

Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow: 345 Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.

King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke: The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke; For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth. 350 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 355 Of heavenly oaths, vow’d with integrity.

King. O, you have lived 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: 360 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, 365 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. 370 I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

Biron. 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, 375 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,—

Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. 380

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

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

Ros. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you less.

Ros. Which of the vizards was it that you wore? 385

Biron. 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. We are descried; they’ll mock us now downright.

Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 390

Prin. Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?

Ros. Help, hold his brows! he’ll swound! Why look you pale? Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? 395 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, 400 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! 405 Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: I do forswear them; and I here protest, 410 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, la!— My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 415

Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.

Biron. 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; 420 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.

Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us. 425

Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Biron. Peace! for I will not have to do with you.

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

Biron. Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end. 430

King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse.

Prin. The fairest is confession. Were not you here but even now disguised?

King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advised?

King. I was, fair madam.

Prin. When you then were here, 435 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 honour, no.

Prin. Peace, peace! forbear: Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. 440

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 445 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 honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, 450 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. 455

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on’t: here was a consent, 460 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 465 To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed, Told our intents before; which once disclosed, 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, 470 We are again forsworn, in will and error. Much upon this it is: and might not you [To Boyet. Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier, And laugh upon the apple of her eye? 475 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 480 Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet. Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.

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

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

Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know 485 Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Biron. What, are there but three?

Cost. No, sir; but it is vara fine, For every one pursents three.

Biron. And three times thrice is nine.

Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know: 490

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—

Biron. Is not nine.

Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. 495

Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I 500 am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies?

Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of 505 the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

Biron. Go, bid them prepare.

Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [Exit.

King. Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and ’tis some policy 510 To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.

King. I say they shall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now: That sport best pleases that doth least know how: Where zeal strives to content, and the contents 515 Dies in the zeal of that which it presents: Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth.

Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter ARMADO.

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal 520 sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

[Converses apart with the King, and delivers him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?

Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God’s making.

Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; 525 for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. 530 He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus: And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five. 535

Biron. There is five in the first show.

King. You are deceived; ’tis not so.

Biron. ‘The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:— Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again 540 Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

Enter COSTARD, for Pompey.

Cost. I Pompey am,—

Boyet. You lie, you are not he.

Boyet. With libbard’s head on knee.

Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee. 545

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big,—

Dum. The Great.

Cost. It is, ‘Great,’ sir:—

Pompey surnamed the Great; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat: And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance, 550 And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.

If your ladyship would say, ‘Thanks, Pompey,’ I had done.

Prin. Great thanks, Great Pompey.

Cost. ’Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I made a little fault in ‘Great.’ 555

Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might: My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,— 560

Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay’d. Proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander,—

Boyet. Most true, ’tis right; you were so, Alisander. 565

Biron. Pompey the Great,—

Cost. Your servant, and Costard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. [To Sir Nath.] O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted 570 cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] There, an’t shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and 575 soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander,—alas, you see how ’tis,—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. 580

Enter HOLOFERNES, for Judas; and MOTH, for Hercules.

Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that three-headed canis; And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. Quoniam he seemeth in minority, Ergo I come with this apology. 585

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Moth retires.

Judas I am,-

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycliped Maccabæus. 590

Dum. Judas Maccabæus dipt is plain Judas.

Biron. A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?

Hol. Judas I am,—

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. 595

Hol. What mean you, sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. 600

Biron. Because thou hast no face.

Hol. What is this?

Boyet. A cittern-head.

Dum. The head of a bodkin.

Biron. A Death’s face in a ring. 605

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

Boyet. The pommel of Cæsar’s falchion.

Dum. The carved-bone face on a flask.

Biron. Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.

Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. 610

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance.

Biron. False: we have given thee faces.

Hol. But you have out-faced them all. 615

Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.

Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him:—Jud-as, away! 620

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble. [Hol. retires.

Prin. Alas, poor Maccabæus, how hath he been baited!

Enter ARMADO, for Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms. 625

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

Boyet. But is this Hector?

King. I think Hector was not so clean-timbered. 630

Long. His leg is too big for Hector’s.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.

Biron. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He’s a god or a painter; for he makes faces. 635

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift,—

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves. 640

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace!—

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea 645 From morn till night, out of his pavilion. I am that flower,—

Dum. That mint.

Long. That columbine.

Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 650

Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. [To the Princess] Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. 655

Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

Arm. I do adore thy sweet Grace’s slipper.

Boyet. [Aside to Dum.] Loves her by the foot.

Dum. [Aside to Boyet] He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,— 660

Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench is cast away: she’s quick; the child brags in 665 her belly already: ’tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him. 670

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the Huge!

Dum. Hector trembles. 675

Biron. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if a’ have no more man’s blood in’s belly than will sup a flea. 680

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: I’ll slash; I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies! 685

Cost. I’ll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose your reputation. 690

Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. 695

Biron. What reason have you for’t?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I’ll be sworn, he wore none but a 700 dish-clout of Jaquenetta’s, and that a’ wears next his heart for a favour.

Enter MARCADE.

Mar. God save you, madam!

Prin. Welcome, Marcade; But that thou interrupt’st our merriment. 705

Mar. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—

Prin. Dead, for my life!

Mar. Even so; my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud. 710

Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies.

King. How fares your majesty?

Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. 715

King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.

Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide, 720 The liberal opposition of our spirits, If over-boldly we have borne ourselves In the converse of breath: your gentleness Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord! A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: 725 Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks For my great suit so easily obtain’d.

King. The extreme parts of time extremely forms All causes to the purpose of his speed; And often, at his very loose, decides 730 That which long process could not arbitrate: And though the mourning brow of progeny Forbid the smiling courtesy of love The holy suit which fain it would convince; Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot, 735 Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost Is not by much so wholesome-profitable As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are double. 740

Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the king. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, Play’d foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies, Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our humours 745 Even to the opposed end of our intents: And what in us hath seem’d ridiculous,— As love is full of unbefitting strains; All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Form’d by the eye, and therefore, like the eye, 750 Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance: Which parti-coated presence of loose love Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, 755 Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, Our love being yours, the error that love makes Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false, 760 By being once false for ever to be true To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you: And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have received your letters full of love: 765 Your favours, the ambassadors of love; And, in our maiden council, rated them At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time: But more devout than this in our respects 770 Have we not been; and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, madam, show’d much more than jest.

Long. So did our looks.

Ros. We did not quote them so.

King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, 775 Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in. No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much, Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:— If for my love, as there is no such cause, 780 You will do aught, this shall you do for me: Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed To some forlorn and naked hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world; There stay until the twelve celestial signs 785 Have brought about the annual reckoning. If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood; If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, 790 But that it bear this trial, and last love; Then, at the expiration of the year, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine, I will be thine; and till that instant shut 795 My woeful self up in a mourning house, Raining the tears of lamentation For the remembrance of my father’s death. If this thou do deny, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the other’s heart. 800

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.

Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? 805

Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack’d, You are attaint with faults and perjury: Therefore if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick. 810

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? A wife?

Kath. A beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?

Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day 815 I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say: Come when the king doth to my lady come; Then, if I have much love, I’ll give you some.

Dum. I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.

Kath. Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again. 820

Long. What says Maria?

Mar. At the twelvemonth’s end I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

Long. I’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.

Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.

Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me; 825 Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, What humble suit attends thy answer there: Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron, Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue 830 Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, Which you on all estates will execute That lie within the mercy of your wit. To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, 835 And therewithal to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick, and still converse With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, 840 With all the fierce endeavour of your wit To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 845

Ros. Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 850 Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, Deaf’d with the clamours of their own dear groans, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, And I will have you and that fault withal; But if they will not, throw away that spirit, 855 And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall, I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

Prin. [To the King] Ay, sweet my Lord; and so I take my leave. 860

King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way.

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies’ courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, 865 And then ’twill end.

Biron. That’s too long for a play.

Re-enter ARMADO.

Arm. Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me,—

Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I 870 am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. 875

King. Call them forth quickly; we will do so.

Arm. Holla! approach.

Re-enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others.

This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. 880

THE SONG.

SPRING. When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, 885 Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, 890 And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, 895 Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!

WINTER. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, 900 And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; 905 Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson’s saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, 910 And Marian’s nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, 915 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way,—we this way. [Exeunt.

~~~~~ Linenotes: Love’s Labour’s Lost, V, 2.

SCENE II.] SCENE III. Pope. ACT V. SCENE I. Capell.

3, 4: These two lines to be transposed. S. Walker conj.

3: A lady] All ladies Lettsom conj.

8: o’] a Q1. on Ff Q2.

11: years] yeare Q1.

12: shrewd] shrowd Q1.

13: ne’er] neare Q1.

17: ha’] a Qq F1 F2. have F3 F4.

a grandam] Grandam Q1.

28: cure...care] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). care...cure Qq Ff.

41: as] om. Rowe.

42: B] R Collier MS.

43: ’Ware] See note (XXII).

pencils] Rowe. pensalls Q1. pensals F1. pensils Q2 F2 F3 F4.

ho!] Hanmer. How? Qq Ff.

45: not so] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

46: Kath.] Theobald. Prin. QQ Ff.

I] om. Capell.

beshrew] beshrow Q1.

47: Katharine,] om. S. Walker conj.

to you from fair] you from Ritson conj.

49: moreover] sent moreover Capell.

51: hypocrisy] apocrypha Warburton conj. (withdrawn).

53: pearls] pearle Q1.

58: mock...so] make...sport Anon. conj.

so] for’t Theobald.

65: wholly to my hests] Dyce (S. Walker conj.). wholly to my device Qq F1. all to my behests F2 F3 F4.

65, 66: hests...jests] behest...jest Capell conj. MS.

66: that] Qq F1. with F2 F3 F4.

67: perttaunt-like] Q1. pertaunt-like Ff Q2. pedant-like Theobald. portent-like Hanmer. pageant-like Capell. scoffingly Douce conj. potent-like Singer. potently Collier MS. persaunt-like Grant White. pert-taunt-like Anon. conj.

70: fool:] Q1 F4. foole? F1 Q2 F2 F3.

72: own] one Q2.

74: wantonness] F3 F4. wantonesse F2. wantons be Qq F1.

79: is] Q1. om. Ff Q2.

80: stabb’d] stable Q1.

82: encounters] encounterers Collier MS.

88: their breath] the breach Collier MS.

89: sycamore] siccamone Q1.

93: companions: warily] Ff Q2. companions warely, Q1.

96: they] thy Q1.

103: shalt] shall F2.

118: folly, passion’s solemn] Theobald. follie pashions solembe Q1. folly passions solemne F1 Q2. folly passions, solemn F2 F3 F4. folly, passions, solemn Pope. folly with passion’s solemn Hanmer. folly, passions sudden Collier MS. folly’s passion, solemn Staunton conj.

120: After this line S. Walker thinks a line may have been lost.

121: as] Qq F1. or F2. and F3 F4.

122: parle, to] Capell. parlee, to Qq F1 F2. parlee F3 F4.

123: love-feat] Q1 Ff. love-seat Q2. love-suit Dyce (S. Walker conj.).

134: you] Q1. your Ff Q2.

too] two Q1.

139: mocking merriment] Ff Q2. mockerie merement Q1.

148: her] F2 F3 F4. his Qq F1.

149: speaker’s] Q1. keepers Ff Q2.

152: ne’er] ne’re F2 F3 F4. ere Qq F1.

156: Trumpets...] Sound Trom. Q1. Sound. Ff Q2.

157: Enter...] Enter Black-moores with musicke, the Boy with a speach, and the rest of the Lords disguysed. Qq Ff.

159: Boyet.] Theobald. Berow. Q1. Ber. F1 Q2. Bir. F2 F3 F4.

160: The Ladies...] This stage direction, printed in Roman type, comes after line 162 in Qq Ff.

163: ever] even Q1.

164: Boyet.] Qq F1. Bir. F2 F3 F4.

165: spirits] Qq F1. spirit F2 F3 F4.

170: Boyet.] Qq F1. Bir. F2 F3 F4.

173: [Exit Moth.] Moth withdraws. Capell. om. Qq Ff.

174: strangers] stranges Q1.

175: they] thy F2.

177: would.] Pope. would? Qq Ff.

178: princess] F4. princes Qq F1 F2 F3.

181, 182: These two lines omitted in Rowe (ed. 1).

185: her on this] Q1. you on the Ff Q2.

187: this] the Rowe (ed. 2).

193: doth] do Johnson.

208: request’st] Theobald. requests Qq Ff.

209: do but vouchsafe] Q1. vouchsafe but Ff Q2.

212: Not yet! no dance!] Not yet no dance: QQ Ff. Not yet? no dance? Pope. Not yet? no dance: Hanmer.

215: King. Yet...man] omitted by Capell (Theobald conj.).

the man] to man it Jackson conj.

216: The music...] given to Rosaline in Qq Ff, corrected by Theobald.

220: we] Q1. you Ff Q2.

224: Prize] F4. Prise Qq F1 F2 F3. Price Rowe (ed. 1).

you yourselves] Q1. yourselves F1 Q2. yourselves then F2 F3 F4.

229, 237, 241: [They converse apart.] Capell.

232: an] Q1 F1. and Q2 F2 F3 F4. See note (XXIII).

237: Gall! bitter] Gall, bitter Q1 Ff. Gall bitter Q2. Gall’s bitter Hanmer.

240: Take that] Q1. take you that Ff Q2.

242, 244, 247, 248, 249, 253, 255: Kath.] Rowe. Mar. Qq Ff.

247: Veal] See note (XXIV).

251: butt] but to F2 F3 F4.

257: invisible] invincible Theobald.

259: sense; so sensible] Punctuated thus by Pope. sence so sensible, Q1 sence so sensible: Ff Q2.

261: bullets] om. Capell.

263: pure] pure pure Capell.

264: Farewell] Adieu Capell.

265: Exeunt...] Exeunt. F1, after line 264. om. Q1.

269: wit, kingly-poor] wit, kingly poor Qq Ff. wit, kill’d by pure Collier MS. wit, stung by poor Singer. wit, poor-liking Staunton conj.

273: O] F2 F3 F4. om. Qq F1 I (for Ay) Edd. conj.

275: suit] sooth or truth Grey conj.

289: digest] Qq F1 F4. disgest F2 F3.

295: their] the Warburton.

296, 297: Dismask’d...blown] Or angel-veiling clouds: are roses blown, Dismaskt,...shewn Theobald (Warburton conj.). Or angels veil’d in clouds;...shewn Warburton.

297: Are...blown] Are angels, (val’d the clouds)...blown Becket conj. Are angels veil’d in clouds of roses blown Peck conj.

vailing] Ff Q2. varling Q1.

307: tent] tents Capell conj.

309: roes run o’er] roes runs ore Q1. roes runnes ore F1 Q2 F2. roes runs ore the F3. roes run o’er the F4. roes run over Steevens.

SCENE VII. Pope. ACT V. Theobald.

Re-enter...] Enter the King and the rest. Qq Ff.

312: thither], Q1. om. Ff Q2. See note (XXV).

315: pecks] Q1. pickes Ff Q2.

pigeons] pigeon Rowe.

316: God] Q1. Jove Ff Q2.

323: A’] A Q1. He Ff Q2.

324: his hand away] Q1. away his hand Ff Q2.

328: meanly] manly Rowe (ed. 2). mainly Pope.

331: flower that] fleerer Theobald conj. (withdrawn).

332: whale’s] whales Qq F1. whale his F2 F3 F4.

333: not] om. F4.

334: due] Q1. dutie F1. duty Q2. F2 F3 F4.

337: it] he Collier MS.

337–342: See...leave] Put in the margin by Pope.

338: madman] man Theobald.

341: Construe...speeches] Consture...spaches Q1.

343: SCENE VIII. Pope.

came] come Pope.

346: delights] delight Rowe.

348: must break] makes break Hanmer. made break Warburton conj.

350: men’s] F3 F4. mens Q1. men F1 Q2 F2.

352: unsullied] F2 F3 F4. unsallied Qq F1.

356: oaths] oath Q2.

365: the days] these days Collier MS.

368: Russian] Q1 F2 F3 F4. Russia F1 Q2.

373: Fair] F2 F3 F4. om. Qq F1.

374: wit makes] F2 F3 F4. wits makes Qq F1. wits make Anon. conj.

379: for] but Capell conj.

385: was it] what it F1.

390: Dum.] Duman. Q1. Du. F1 Q2. Duk. F2 F3 F4.

392: swound] F2 F3 F4. sound Qq F1. swoon Pope.

396: I: lady,] I, lady Qq F1 F2. I, lady, F3 F4. I, lady: Capell.

404: vizard] Qq F1 F2. vizards F3 F4.

405: rhyme] rime Qq Ff. time Rowe.

407: affectation] Rowe. affection Qq Ff.

415: sans] sance Q1 (ital.).

421: it] om. Q2.

433: not you] Q1. you not Ff Q2.

439: mine] my F4.

446: thereto] Qq F1. there F2 F3 F4.

454: the] to th’ F3 F4.

463: slight zany] sleight saine Q1.

465: smiles his] smiles, his Q1. smites his Jackson conj.

years] jeers Theobald. fleers Hanmer. tears Jackson conj.

472: Much...and] Boyet. Much...Biron. And Johnson conj.

it is] F2 F3 F4. tis Qq F1.

[To Boyet.] Rowe.

474: not you] you not Q2.

squier] Qq F1 F2 F3. square F4. squire Capell.

478: allow’d] F3 F4. aloude Q1. alowd F1 Q2. allowd F2.

481: merrily] merely Q1.

482: Hath this brave manage] Theobald. hath this brave nuage Q1. hath this brave manager Ff Q2. Brave manager, hath this Pope.

484: part’st] prat’st F3 F4. partest Pope.

487: vara] very Rowe (ed. 2).

488: pursents] presents Rowe (ed. 2).

490: beg] bag Becket conj.

491: hope, sir] hope F3 F4.

501: they] thy Q1.

parfect] Q1. perfect Ff Q2. persent Collier. pursent Grant White (S. Walker conj.).

in] e’en Malone.

504: Pompion] Rowe (ed. 2). Pompey Qq Ff.

510, 511: Printed as verse in Q1, as prose in Ff Q2.

511: king’s] king F3 F4.

514: least] Ff Q2. best Q1.

515, 516: contents Dies...presents] Qq Ff. content Dies...presents Rowe (ed. 1). content Dies in the zeal of that it doth present Hanmer. contents Die in the zeal of him which them presents Johnson conj. contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents Steevens. discontent Dies in the zeal of them which it present Staunton. content Lies in the zeal of those which it present Mason conj. contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents Malone. contents Lie in the fail of that which it presents Singer. contents Dyes with the zeal of that which it presents Keightley conj.

517: Their] There Capell. The Knight.

521: [Converses...] Capell.

524: He] Ff Q2. A Q1.

God’s] Ff Q2. God his Q1.

525: That is] Q1. That’s Ff Q2.

528: de la guerra] Theobald. delaguar Qq Ff. della guerra Hanmer. See note (XXVI).

529: couplement] complement Q2.

534, 535: Printed as prose in Qq Ff, as verse in Rowe (ed. 2).

540: Abate] Qq F1. A bare F2 F3 F4. A fair Heath conj. Abate a Malone. A bait Jackson conj.

novum] novem Hanmer.

541: pick] Q1. prick Ff Q2.

in his] Q1. in’s Ff Q2.

[Seats brought forth.] Capell.

542: Flourish. Enter, arm’d and accouter’d, his Scutcheon born before him, Costard for Pompey. Capell.

543: [Costard prostrates himself. Staunton conj.

Boyet] F2 F3 F4. Bero. Q1. Ber. F1 Q2.

551: [Does his obeisance to the Princess. Capell.

553: Prin.] F2 F3 F4. Lady. Q1. La. F1 Q2.

562: this,] his Q1. this Ff Q2.

563: Alexander] Alisander Capell.

573: afeard] Q1. afraid Ff Q2.

574: [Nath. retires.] Capell.

576: faith] Q1. insooth Ff Q2.

578. ’tis,] Johnson. ’tis Q1 Ff. it’s Q2.

579: [Exit Curat. Q1. Exit Cu. F1 Q2. Exit Clo. F2 F3 F4 (after line 580).

580: Prin.] Quee. Q1. Qu. F1 Q2. Clo. F2 F3 F4.

581: Hercules is] Hercules’ S. Walker conj.

582: canis] Rowe. canus Qq Ff.

587: [Moth retires.] Exit Boy. Qq Ff. [Moth does his obeisance and retires. Capell.

593: proved] F2. proud Q1. prou’d F1 Q2.

600: out of] Q1 Ff. of Q2.

607: falchion] fauchion Q1. faulchion Ff Q2.

617: as he is an ass,] Q2 F3 F4. as he is, an ass, Q1 F1 F2.

623: hath he] he hath Pope.

626: by] to Hanmer.

628: Troyan] Qq Ff. Trojan Rowe, and line 664.

631: Hector’s] Q1. Hector Ff Q2.

633: in] with F3 F4.

638: A gilt nutmeg] Ff Q2. A gift nutmeg Q1 Gift! a nutmeg Capell.

642: Peace!] om. Ff Q2.

645: fight; yea] Qq Ff. fight ye, Rowe (ed. 2).

647: mint] pink Capell conj.

653, 654: when he breathed...man] Q1 om. Ff Q2.

655: [Biron steps to Costard and whispers him. Capell.

661: The party is gone] Printed in italics as a stage direction by Qq Ff.

677: on! stir] Rowe. or stir Qq Ff.

683: bepray] Q1. pray Ff Q2.

687: [stripping. Capell.

688: [coming up to Arm. and whispering him. Capell.

699: Boyet.] Moth. (to the lords aside). Capell.

701: a’ wears] a wears Q1. he wears Ff Q2.

702: Marcade.] Qq Ff. Macard. Rowe. Mercade. Capell.

704: Marcade] good Mercade Capell, reading 703, 704 as a verse.

705: interrupt’st] interrupptest Q1. interruptest Ff Q2.

705–707: Printed as prose in Qq Ff.

706, 707: bring Is heavy in] bring; ’Tis heavy on Capell.

712: day] days Warburton’s note.

wrong] right Warburton.

718: entreat,] entreat: Q1. entreats: Ff. intreats: Q2.

725: not] but Collier MS.

a nimble] Theobald, a humble Qq F1. an humble F2 F3 F4.

726: too short] Q1. so short Ff Q2.

728: parts....forms] parts....form Rowe (ed. 1). past...forms Theobald. haste....forms Singer. dart....forms Staunton conj. parting time expressly forms Collier MS.

731: process] process of time F3 F4.

734: it would] would it Johnson conj.

738: wholesome-profitable] holdsome profitable Q1.

740: are double] Qq Ff. are deaf Capell. are dull Collier MS. hear dully Staunton conj.

740–742: Prin. I...double. Biron. Honest...And by...] Prin. I...grief. King. And by... Johnson conj.

741: ear] care Q1. ears F1. eares Q2 F2. cares F3 F4.

748: strains] strangeness Collier MS.

751: strange] Capell. straying Qq Ff. stray Coleridge conj.

756: Have] ’T hath Capell.

misbecomed] misbecombd Q1. misbecom’d Ff. misbecomm’d Q2.

762: make] make them Pope.

763: a sin] so base Collier MS.

766: the] om. Q1.

770: this in our] Hanmer. this our Q1. these are our Ff Q2. these are your Tyrwhitt conj. this (save our...) Warburton.

771: been] seen Tyrwhitt conj.

786: the] Q1. their Ff Q2.

793: me by] by F3 F4.

795: instant] Ff Q2. instance Q1.

800: intitled] F1 F2 F3 Q2. intiled Q1. intituled F4.

802: flatter] fetter Hanmer (Warburton).

804: Hence ever] Ff. Hence herrite Q1.

805–810: Included in brackets by Theobald at the suggestion of Thirlby and Warburton, and omitted by Hanmer. See note (XVIII).

806: rack’d] rank Rowe. reck’d Becket conj.

807: faults] fault F2 F3 F4.

812: A wife?...] Dyce. Kath. A wife? a beard, faire health, and... Qq Ff. Kath. A wife, a beard (fair youth) and... Theobald. Kath. No wife: a beard, fair health, and... Hanmer.

828: thy] Q1. my Ff. Q2.

829: have] had Collier MS.

833: estates] estetes Q1.

execute] exercise Collier MS.

835: fruitful] fructful Q1.

852: dear] dere Johnson conj. drear Jackson conj. dire Collier MS.

853: then] them Collier MS.

860: [To the King] Breaking Converse with the King and curtsying. Capell.

868: not] om. Q2.

872: years] yeare Q1. year Capell.

877: Re-enter...] Enter all. Qq Ff.

882, 883: Theobald. In Ff Qq the order is 883, 882.

883: cuckoo-buds] cowslip-buds Farmer conj. crocus-buds Whalley conj.

884: with delight] much-bedight Warburton.

903: foul] full Q1.

905, 906: Tu-whit; Tu-who] Qq Ff. Tu-who; Tu-whit, tu-who Capell.

917: Arm.] Brag. Ff Q2. om. Q1.

917, 918: The words...Apollo] In Q1 printed in larger type.

918: You that way,—we this way.] om. Q1. ~~~~~

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Biron is spell ‘Berowne,’ Longaville ‘Longavill,’ in Q1 F1 Q2; Mercade ‘Marcade,’ in Qq Ff. Armado is written sometimes ‘Armatho.’ Mr Grant White suggests that Moth should be written ‘Mote,’ as it was clearly so pronounced. See note (VI). ‘Boyet’ is made to rhyme with ‘debt’ in V. 2. 334; ‘Longaville’ with ‘ill’ in IV. 3. 119, and with ‘mile’ in V. 2. 53; ‘Rosaline’ with ‘thine,’ IV. 3. 217. Costard, in the old stage directions, is called ‘Clown.’

Mason says, ‘I believe the title of this play should be ‘Love’s Labours Lost,’ but it is clear, from the form in which it is written in the running title of Qq F1 F2 ‘Loves Labour’s Lost,’ that the full name was intended to be ‘Love’s Labour is Lost.’ On the title pages however of Q1 and Q2 it is written respectively ‘Loues labors lost,’ and ‘Loues Labours lost.’ It is called by Meres (1598) ‘Love Labour Lost,’ and by Tofte ‘Love’s Labour Lost,’ which is in favour of the ordinary spelling.

As the scene through the play is in the King of Navarre’s park, and as it is perfectly obvious when the action is near the palace and when near the tents of the French princess, we have not thought it necessary to specify the several changes.

I. 1. 23. This is an instance of the lax grammar of the time which permitted the use of a singular pronoun referring to a plural substantive, and vice versa, as in The Two Noble Kinsmen, Act I. Sc. 1;

‘You cannot read it there; there, through my tears, Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream, You may behold ’em.’

I. 1. 110. Singer says that in a copy of F1 which he used, the reading is ‘sit.’

I. 2. 86. There is probably an allusion in the words, ‘for she had a green wit,’ to the ‘green withes,’ with which Samson was bound. In Shakespeare’s time, ‘mote’ was frequently written ‘moth,’ as in IV. 3. 157 of this play, and in Much Ado about Nothing (II. 3) the same variety of spelling gives rise to an obscure pun, ‘Note notes, forsooth, and nothing.’ Compare, also, As You Like It, III. 3. 5.

II. 1. 88. We have retained in this passage the reading of the first Quarto, ‘unpeeled,’ in preference to the ‘unpeopled’ of the second Quarto and the Folios, which is evidently only a conjectural emendation, and does not furnish a better sense than many other words which might be proposed. In the same way, in Act III. Sc. 1, line 61, we have followed the first Quarto in reading ‘volable’ instead of ‘voluble,’ as it has direct reference to Moth’s last words ‘thump, then, and I flee,’ and is in better keeping with the Euphuistic language of the speaker.

In II. 1. 114 sqq. the speakers are ‘Berowne’ and ‘Kather.’ in Q1. This is followed by Capell, who justifies it as follows: ‘When the King and his lords enter, the ladies mask, and continue mask’d ’till they go: Biron, while the letter is reading, seeks his mistress; accosts Catharine instead of her, finds his error, and leaves her: the King’s exit gives him an opportunity to make another attempt, and he then lights on the right but without knowing her; makes a third by enquiry, and is baffled in that too, for he describes Maria, and is told she is Catharine.’ In this and other scenes the characters are so confused in the old copies that they can be determined only by the context, in this play a very unsafe guide.

II. 1. 212. In this line, as well as in III. 1. 140, 142, &c. and IV. 3. 279, the ‘O’ is superfluous and appears to have crept into the text from the last letter of the stage direction ‘Bero.’ In the first instance in which this occurs the first Quarto stands alone, and the error is corrected in the second Quarto and the Folios, and we have therefore ventured to make the same correction in the other cases.

III. 1. 186. As ‘wightly,’ in the sense of ‘nimble,’ has no etymological connection with ‘white,’ we have thought it best to retain the spelling which is least likely to mislead.

IV. 2. 27. Which we of taste and feeling are, for those... In Qq Ff this passage stands as follows: ‘which we taste and feeling, are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he,’ except that Q1 F4 put a comma after ‘taste’ and Q2 omits ‘do.’ Theobald, on Warburton’s suggestion, reads, ‘parts (which we taste and feel ingradare) that do, &c.’ Hanmer is the first to print it as verse, reading,

‘And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be, For those parts which we taste and feel do fructify in us more than he.’

Johnson proposes, ‘When we taste and feeling are for those parts, &c.’ Tyrwhitt conjectured, ‘Which we of taste and feeling are, &c.’ and is followed by Collier and several modern editors. This reading appears to make the best sense with the least alteration. In Collier MS. we find ‘which we having taste and feeling &c.’

IV. 2. 63, 70, 74. In Qq Ff these three speeches are incorrectly assigned to Nath., Hol. and Nath. respectively, whereas the third evidently belongs to Holofernes. Similarly the speeches beginning with lines 79, 83, 89, 99 are assigned to Nath. instead of Hol., and vice versâ line 99 which properly belongs to Nath. is given to Hol. Again 115–122 and 125–129 are given to Nath. in consequence of which ‘Sir Nathaniel,’ in line 129, was written ‘Sir Holofernes,’ a title to which the pedant had no claim. The mistake probably arose from the stage direction ‘Ped.’ being confounded with ‘Per.,’ that is, Person or Parson. Besides, in line 114, the ‘Ped.’ of F1 is changed in the later folios to ‘Pedro.’

IV. 3. 142. In Q1 this line stands at the top of the page. The catch-word on the preceding page is ‘Fayth,’ shewing that the word omitted, whatever it be, was not the first in the line.

IV. 3. 178. By the kind permission of the Duke of Devonshire, we have collated the copy of the first Quarto, which is in his Grace’s library, with that which is in the Capell collection. Besides the important difference mentioned in the foot-note, the following are found:

E. 3. (r) line 5, paper (Capell) p a d e r (Devonshire). E. 3. (v) line 12, corporall (Capell) croporall (Devonshire). I. 3. (r) line 22, then w i (Capell) then w (Devonshire).

IV. 3. 244. Theobald’s note is: ‘O word divine! This is the reading of all the editions that I have seen; but both Dr Thirlby and Mr Warburton concurred in reading (as I had likewise conjectured) O wood divine!’

‘Wood,’ however, is the reading of Rowe’s first edition. It was perhaps only a happy misprint, as it is altered to ‘word’ in the second.

IV. 3. 251. As ‘suiter’ was pronounced and sometimes written ‘shooter’ (IV. 1. 101), so probably ‘suit’ was sometimes written ‘shoote,’ a word easily corrupted into ‘schoole.’

IV. 3. 285. Although it is not necessary to omit a syllable on account of the metre, as Mr Sidney Walker seems to have thought, we have adopted one of his conjectures for the reason mentioned in note (IX). A similar error, which has hitherto escaped notice, seems to occur in IV. 2. 83, where the word ‘Of,’ which in the original MS. was part of the stage direction ‘Holof.’, has crept into the text. If this hypothesis be true, it follows that the frequently recurring error of ‘Nath.’ for ‘Hol.’ is not due to the author himself, but to an unskilful corrector.

IV. 3. 295. Mr Dyce omits lines 295–300, For when would you...true Promethean fire; and lines 308–315, For where is...forsworn our books, which are repeated in substance, and, to some extent verbatim, in the latter part of the speech.

There can be no doubt that two drafts of the speech have been blended together, and that the author meant to cancel a portion of it; but as there also can be no doubt that the whole came from his pen, we do not venture to correct the printer’s error. We would ‘lose no drop of the immortal man.’ The error is indeed a very instructive one. It goes to prove that the first Quarto was printed from the author’s original MS.; that the author had not made a ‘foul copy’ of his work; and that he had not an opportunity of revising the proof sheets as they passed through the press.

For the same reason we have retained V. 2. 805–810.

IV. 3. 341. We have here retained ‘make,’ because the inaccuracy is so natural, that it probably came from the pen of the author. It escaped correction in all the Quartos and Folios, as well as in Rowe’s and Pope’s editions.

V. 1. 24, 25. The reading which we have given in the text, and which had occurred to us before we discovered that Capell had hit upon nearly the same conjecture, comes nearer to the words and punctuation of the Quartos and Folios than Theobald’s, which, since his time, has been the received reading. Sir Nathaniel is not represented elsewhere as an ignoramus who would be likely to say ‘bone’ for ‘bene.’ Holofernes patronizingly calls him ‘Priscian,’ but, pedagogue-like, will not admit his perfect accuracy. ‘A little scratched’ is a phrase familiar to the schoolmaster, from his daily task of correcting his pupils’ ‘latines.’

Capell’s conjecture, given in his Notes, Vol. I. p. 44 of the Various Readings, is ‘Nath. Laus Deo bone intelligo. Hol. Bone! bon, fort bon; Priscian.’ In his printed text he follows Theobald.

Some corruption is still left in line 22: insanie: ne intelligis. Perhaps we should read insano fare: intelligis...

V. 1. 110. There is some corruption in this passage, which cannot with certainty be removed. In the subsequent scene five ‘worthies’ only are presented, viz. Hector by Armado, Pompey by Costard, Alexander by Nathaniel, Hercules by the Page, and Judas Maccabæus by Holofernes.

V. 2. 43. Johnson says ‘The former editions read Were pencils,’ and attributes the restoration of Ware to Hanmer. Mr Halliwell repeats the assertion. In reality, all the editions read Ware.