Chapter XVII: Act V: Actus Quartus Ff Q2 (1)

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. ~~~~~

SCENE II. _The same._

_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!

[_Exit Moth._

_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.

[_They converse apart._

_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

[_They converse apart._

_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.

_Enter_ COSTARD.

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.

_Cost._ I Pompey am,—

_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.