CUSTARD Have with thee, my girl. Exit with Jaquenetta
NATHANIEL Sir, you have done this in the fear of God very religiously, and, as a certain father saith—
HOLOFERNES Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses—did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?
NATHANIEL Marvellous well for the pen.
HOLOFERNES I do dine today at the father’s of a certain pupil of mine where, if before repast it shall please you to 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.
NATHANIEL And thank you too, for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life.
HOLOFERNES And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. (To Dull) Sir, I do invite you too. You shall not say me nay. Pauca verba. Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. Exeunt
4.3 Enter Biron with a paper in his hand, alone
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. Denle—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 as mad as Ajax, it kills sheep, it kills me, I a sheep—well proved again o’ my side. I will not love. If I do, hang me; i’faith, I will not. O, but her eye! By this light, but for her eye I would not love her. Yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme and to be melancholy, and here (showing a paper) is part of my rhyme, and here (touching his breast) my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my sonnets already. The clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it. Sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady. By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper. God give him grace to groan.
He stands aside. The King entereth with a paper
KING Ay me!
BIRON (aside) Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid, thou hast thumped him with thy birdbolt under the left 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 eyebeams when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows.
Nor shines the silver moon one-half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light.
Thou shin’st in every tear that I do weep.
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee,
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that swell in me
And they thy glory through my grief will show.
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O Queen of queens, how far dost thou excel,
No thought can think nor tongue of mortal tell.’
How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper.
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?
Enter Longueville with papers. The King steps aside
What, Longueville, and reading—listen, ear!
BIRON (aside)
Now in thy likeness one more fool appear!
LONGUEVILLE Ay me! I am forsworn.
BIRON (aside)
Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
KING (aside)
In love, I hope! Sweet fellowship in shame.
BIRON (aside)
One drunkard loves another of the name.
LONGUEVILLE
Am I the first that have been perjured so?
BIRON (aside)
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.
LONGUEVILLE
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 (aside)
O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose,
Disfigure not his slop.
LONGUEVILLE This same shall go.
He reads the sonnet
‘Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
’Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore, but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee.
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love.
Thy grace being gained cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhal‘st this vapour-vow; in thee it is.
If broken then, it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To lose an oath to win a paradise?’
BIRON (aside)
This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity,
A green goose a goddess, pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend: we are much out o’th’
way.
Enter Dumaine with a paper
LONGUEVILLE (aside)
By whom shall I send this? Company? Stay.
He steps aside
BIRON (aside)
All hid, all hid—an old infant play.
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye.
More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish.
Dumaine transformed—four woodcocks in a dish!
DUMAINE O most divine Kate!
BIRON (aside) O most profane coxcomb!
DUMAINE
By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!
BIRON (aside)
By earth, she is not, corporal; there you lie.
DUMAINE
Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.
BIRON (aside)
An amber-coloured raven was well noted.
DUMAINE
As upright as the cedar.
BIRON (aside) Stoop, I say.
Her shoulder is with child.
DUMAINE As fair as day.
BIRON (aside)
Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
DUMAINE O that I had my wishl
LONGUEVILLE (aside) And I had mine!
KING (aside) And I mine too, good Lord!
BIRON (aside)
Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?