PRIN.

Peace, peace, forbear:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

KING.

Despise me when I break this oath of mine.

PRIN.

I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline,

What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

ROS.

Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear

As precious eyesight, and did value me

Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,

That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

PRIN.

God give thee joy of him! The noble lord

Most honorably doth uphold his word.

KING.

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

I never swore this lady such an oath.

ROS.

By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,

You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

KING.

My faith and this the Princess I did give;

I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

PRIN.

Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear,

And Lord Berowne (I thank him) is my dear.

What? will you have me, or your pearl again?

BER.

Neither of either; I remit both twain.

I see the trick an't; here was a consent,

Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To dash it like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,

Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,

That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick

To make my lady laugh when she's dispos'd,

Told our intents before; which once disclos'd,

The ladies did change favors; and then we,

Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.

Now, to our perjury to add more terror,

We are again forsworn, in will and error.

Much upon this 'tis;

 

[to Boyet]

 

and might not you

Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?

Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier,

And laugh upon the apple of her eye?

And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,

Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

You put our page out. Go, you are allow'd;

Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.

You leer upon me, do you? There's an eye

Wounds like a leaden sword.

BOYET.

Full merrily

Hath this brave [manage], this career, been run.

BER.

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

 

Enter Clown [Costard].

 

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

COST.

O Lord, sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

BER.

What, are there but three?

COST.

No, sir, but it is vara fine,

For every one pursents three.

BER.

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.

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir –

BER. Is not nine.

COST. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

BER. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

COST. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reck'ning, sir.

BER. 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 am, as [they] say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

BER. Art thou one of the Worthies?

COST. It pleas'd them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great; for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

BER. Go bid them prepare.

COST.

We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.

 

Exit.

 

KING.

Berowne, they will shame us; let them not approach.

BER.

We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some policy

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

Dies in the zeal of that which it presents.

Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,

When great things laboring perish in their birth.

BER.

A right description of our sport, my lord.

 

Enter Braggart [Armado].

 

ARM. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal 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?

BER. Why ask you?

PRIN. 'A speaks not like a man of God his making.

ARM. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; 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: he presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabeus;

And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the other five.

BER.

There is five in the first show.

KING.

You are deceived, 'tis not so.

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

Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again

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« –

BER.

You lie, you are not he.

COST.

»I Pompey am« –

BOYET.

With libbard's head on knee.

BER.

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.‹

BER. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

 

Enter Curate [Sir Nathaniel] 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.

BER.

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 liv'd, I was the world's commander« –

BOYET.

Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander.

BER. Pompey the Great –

COST. Your servant, and Costard.

BER.