A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and
red.
ARMADO. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the 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.
ARMADO. 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 whipt; and yet a better love than my
master.
ARMADO. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
MOTH. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
ARMADO. I say, sing.
MOTH. Forbear till this company be past.
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 allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.
ARMADO. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid!
JAQUENETTA. Man!
ARMADO. I will visit thee at the lodge.
JAQUENETTA. That's hereby.
ARMADO. I know where it is situate.
JAQUENETTA. Lord, how wise you are!
ARMADO. I will tell thee wonders.
JAQUENETTA. With that face?
ARMADO. I love thee.
JAQUENETTA. So I heard you say.
ARMADO. And so, farewell.
JAQUENETTA. Fair weather after you!
DULL. Come, Jaquenetta, away. Exit with JAQUENETTA
ARMADO. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be
pardoned.
COSTARD. Well, sir, I hope when I do it I shall do it on a full
stomach.
ARMADO. Thou shalt be heavily punished.
COSTARD. I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are
but
lightly rewarded.
ARMADO. Take away this villain; shut him up.
MOTH. Come, you transgressing slave, away.
COSTARD. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast, being loose.
MOTH. No, sir; that were fast, and loose. Thou shalt to prison.
COSTARD. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation
that I
have seen, some shall see.
MOTH. What shall some see?
COSTARD. Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon. It
is
not for prisoners to be too silent in their words, 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
ARMADO. 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 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 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; 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
ACT II. SCENE II. The park
Enter the PRINCESS OF FRANCE, with three attending ladies, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, and two other LORDS
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
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,
When she did starve the general world beside
And prodigally gave them all to you.
PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but
mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise.
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utt'red 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