Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

King. I say, they shall not come. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how; Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them 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 expence of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses 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's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit ARMADO. King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five. Biron. There is five in the first show. King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:

Abate a throw at novum; 48) and the whole world again,
Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein.
King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
[Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c.

Pageant of the Nine Worthies.
Enter CoSTARD arm'd, for Pompey.
Cost. I Pompey am,
Boyet.

Cost. I Pompey am, Boyet.

You lie, you are not he.

With libbard's head 49) on knee.

Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big.– Dum. The great.

Cost. It is great, sir;- Pompey surnam'd 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;

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. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, 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. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. 5o)

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tendersmelling night.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander.

Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. Biron. Pompey the great,

Cost.

Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. O, sir, [to NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close stool, will be given to A-jax: 51) he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, der. [NATH. retires.] There, an't shall please you; and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisana foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, alas, you see, how "tis; a little o'er-parted: 52) But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

-

[blocks in formation]

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.

Hol. What mean you, sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder.
Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
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.

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. 53)
Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch. 54)
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer: And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun

tenance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. False: we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have out-faced them all. 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.
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

[blocks in formation]

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea||
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,

Dum.

Long.

That mint.

That columbine.

Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 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 breath'd, he was a man— But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the PRINCESS] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, 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 Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

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. 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.
Biron. What reason have you for't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt;
I go woolward 59) for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for
want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore
none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a
wears next his heart, for a favour.
Enter MERCADE

Mer. God save you, madam!
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father Prin. Dead, for my life.

Mer. Even so; my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. 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.
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,
The liberal 6) opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, 1) your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides 62)
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; 63)
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what is purpos'd; 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.
Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of
grief;

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pom- And by these badges understand the king.
pey! Pompey the huge!
Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd: More Ates, 57) more
Ates; stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; 58) I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword: pray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.

- I

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
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
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 party-coated presence of loose love

Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us 4) to make: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
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.

[ocr errors]

Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me. 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 Birón, Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue 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:

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;

Your favours, the embassadors 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,

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,
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 perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore, this,
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
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;
Where stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their 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 gandy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love; "")
Then, at the expiration of the year,

Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palin, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,

5)

For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.
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?
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank;
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.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Kath. A wife! - 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
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd 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 you be forsworn again.
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.

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,
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.

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
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,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the KING. 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, And then 'twill end. Biron.

That's too long for a play.

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 am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, that the two learned men have compiled, in praise most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm. Holla! approach.

Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD,

and others.

This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.

Song.

Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds 7) of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree,

[blocks in formation]

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;

Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel *) the pot.
IV.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,69)
And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, 7)
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;

Tu whit, to-who, a merry note,
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.

[blocks in formation]

SALANIO, 1)

SALARINO,
GRATIANO,

[ocr errors]

Friends to Antonio and Bassanio.

LORENZO, in love with Jessica. SHYLOCK, a Jew:

TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.

[blocks in formation]

LAUNCELOT GOBBо, a Clown, Servant to Shylock.
Old Gовво, Father to Launcelot.
SALERIO, 2) a Messenger from Venice.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.
BALTHAZAR, Servants to Portia.

STEPHANO,

PORTIA, a rich Heiress:

NERISSA, her Waiting-maid.

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants.

partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Venice. A Street.

Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Antonio.

IN sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies) with portly sail,
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, 4)
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

[ocr errors]

That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. should be still
Plucking the grass, ') to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object, that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew ) dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top ) lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks?
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,

And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought To think on this; and shall I lack the thought, That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad? But, tell not me; I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandize.

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year: Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. Salan. Why then you are in love.

Ant.

Fye, fye! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you

are sad,

Because you are not merry and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper:
And other of such vinegar aspéct,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good-morrow, my good lords.

Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say when?

You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO.

Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found An

tonio,

« НазадПродовжити »