ACT 2
Scene 1

...volumes in folio.
Enter the Princess of France, with three attending Ladies (Rosaline, Maria, and Katherine), Boyet and other Lords.
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 besides
And prodigally gave them all to you.

...his high will.
Proud of employment, willingly I go.

...yours is so.
Boyet exits.

...Here comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.

...what admittance, lord?
Navarre had notice of your fair approach,
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all addressed to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learned:
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath
To let you enter his unpeopled house.

Enter King of Navarre, Longaville, Dumaine, and Berowne.
Here comes Navarre.

...Satisfy me so.
So please your Grace, the packet is not come
Where that and other specialties are bound.
Tomorrow you shall have a sight of them.

...is that same?
The heir of Alanson, Katherine her name.

...in the white?
A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.

...desire her name.
She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.

...sir, whose daughter?
Her mother’s, I have heard.

...on your beard!
Good sir, be not offended. She is an heir of
Falconbridge.

...most sweet lady.
Not unlike, sir, that may be.

...in the cap?
Rosaline, by good hap.

...wedded or no?
To her will, sir, or so.

...welcome, sir. Adieu.
Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

...but a jest.
And every jest but a word.

...at his word.
I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.

...hot sheeps, marry.
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.

...finish the jest?
So you grant pasture for me.
He tries to kiss her.

...several they be.
Belonging to whom?

...here ’tis abused.
If my observation, which very seldom lies,
By the heart’s still rhetoric, disclosèd wi’ th’ eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

... With what?
With that which we lovers entitle “affected.”

... Your reason?
Why, all his behaviors did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His heart like an agate with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed.
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair.
Methought all his senses were locked in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy,
Who, tend’ring their own worth from where they were glassed,
Did point you to buy them along as you passed.
His face’s own margent did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I’ll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

...Boyet is disposed.
But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclosed.
I only have made a mouth of his eye
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

... but grim.
Do you hear, my mad wenches?

... No.
What then, do you see?

...to be gone.
You are too hard for me.
They all exit.

ACT 4
Scene 1

...and some Joan.
Enter the Princess, a Forester, her Ladies, Boyet and her other Lords.

...means no ill.
Do not curst wives hold that self sovereignty
Only for praise’ sake when they strive to be
Lords o’er their lords?

...Enter Clown Costard.
Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

...up this capon.
taking the letter
I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook; it importeth none here.
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

...everyone give ear.
reads.
By heaven, that thou art fair is most
infallible, true that thou art beauteous, truth itself
that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration
on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and
most illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious
and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it
was that might rightly say “Veni, vidi, vici,” which to
annothanize in the vulgar (O base and obscure vulgar!)
videlicet, “He came, see, and overcame”: He
came, one; see, two; overcame, three. Who came? The
King. Why did he come? To see. Why did he see? To
overcome. To whom came he? To the beggar. What
saw he? The beggar. Who overcame he? The beggar.
The conclusion is victory. On whose side? The
King’s. The captive is enriched. On whose side? The
beggar’s. The catastrophe is a nuptial. On whose side?
The King’s—no, on both in one, or one in both. I am
the King, for so stands the comparison; thou the
beggar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command
thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could.
Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou
exchange for rags? Robes. For tittles? Titles. For thyself?
Me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy
foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every
part.
Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado.

Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.

Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play.

But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?

Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

...hear better?
I am much deceived but I remember the style.

...o’er it erewhile.
This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court,
A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince and his bookmates.

...thine another day.
Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?

...you to know?
Ay, my continent of beauty.

...Finely put off.
My lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry,
Hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on.

...am the shooter.
And who is your deer?

... the brow.
But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?

...the hit it?
So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a
woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little
wench, as touching the hit it.

...my good man.
sings
An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.

...hit it.
A mark! O, mark but that mark. “A mark,” says my lady.
Let the mark have a prick in ’t to mete at, if it may be.

...the clout.
to Maria
An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.

... to bowl.
I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
Boyet and Maria exit.

ACT 5
Scene 2

...worth in simplicity.
Enter Boyet.

...in his face.
O, I am stabbed with laughter. Where’s her Grace?

...Thy news, Boyet?
Prepare, madam, prepare.
Arm, wenches, arm. Encounters mounted are
Against your peace. Love doth approach, disguised,
Armèd in arguments. You’ll be surprised.
Muster your wits, stand in your own defense,
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

...Say, scout, say.
Under the cool shade of a sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour.
When, lo, to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addressed
The King and his companions. Warily
I stole into a neighbor thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear:
That, by and by, disguised, they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page
That well by heart hath conned his embassage.
Action and accent did they teach him there:
“Thus must thou speak,” and “thus thy body bear.”
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.
I should have feared her had she been a devil.”
With that, all laughed and clapped him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
One rubbed his elbow thus, and fleered, and swore
A better speech was never spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cried “Via! We will do ’t, come what will come.”
The third he capered and cried “All goes well!”
The fourth turned on the toe, and down he fell.
With that, they all did tumble on the ground
With such a zealous laughter so profound
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.

...to visit us?
They do, they do; and are appareled thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is to parley, to court, and dance,
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress—which they’ll know
By favors several which they did bestow.

...away her face.
Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.

...Sound trumpet, within.
The trumpet sounds. Be masked; the maskers come.

...on the Earth!
Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

...mortal views. Out—
True; out indeed.

...your sun-beamèd eyes—
They will not answer to that epithet.
You were best call it “daughter-beamèd eyes.”

...what they would.
What would you with the Princess?

...they, say they?
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

...so be gone.
She says you have it, and you may be gone.

...on this grass.
They say that they have measured many a mile
To tread a measure with you on this grass.

...is eas’ly told.
If to come hither you have measured miles,
And many miles, the Princess bids you tell
How many inches doth fill up one mile.

...by weary steps.
She hears herself.

...They move aside.

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

Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
things.

...so wondered at?

Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed
out.

...bark on tree.

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.

...Will they return?
They will, they will, God knows,

And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows.

Therefore change favors, and when they repair,

Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

...to be understood.

Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud.

Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown,

Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

...tent to us.

Ladies, withdraw. The gallants are at hand.

...Where’s the Princess?
Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty
Command me any service to her thither?

...for one word.
I will, and so will she, I know, my lord.
He exits.

...of his part!
Enter the Ladies, with Boyet.

...a leaden sword.
Full merrily

Hath this brave manage, this career been run.

...I Pompey am—
With leopard’s head on knee.

...I am Alisander—
Your nose says no, you are not, for it stands too right.

...world’s commander—
Most true; ’tis right. You were so, Alisander.

...mean you, sir?
To make Judas hang himself.

...his own face.
A cittern-head.

...coin, scarce seen.
The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.

...would do so.
Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.—
And so adieu, sweet Jude. Nay, why dost thou stay?

...gentle, not humble.
A light for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark; he may stumble.

...respect of this.
But is this Hector?

...More calf, certain.
No, he is best endued in the small.

...sweet Grace’s slipper.
Loves her by the foot.

...Most rare Pompey!
Renowned Pompey!

...woolward for penance.
True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want
of linen; since when, I’ll be sworn, he wore none
but a dishclout of Jaquenetta’s, and that he wears
next his heart for a favor.

...we this way.
They all exit.