ACT 2
Scene 1
...volumes in folio.
Enter the Princess of France, with three attending Ladies (Rosaline, Maria, and Katherine), Boyet and other Lords.
...his great worthiness.
Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour’s talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue, conceit’s expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words
That agèd ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravishèd,
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
...in Brabant once?
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
...know you did.
How needless was it then
To ask the question.
...be so quick.
’Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.
...fast; ’twill tire.
Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
...time o’ day?
The hour that fools should ask.
...befall your mask.
Fair fall the face it covers.
...you many lovers.
Amen, so you be none.
...my own heart.
Pray you, do my commendations. I would
be glad to see it.
...heard it groan.
Is the fool sick?
...at the heart.
Alack, let it blood.
...do it good?
My physic says “ay.”
...with your eye?
No point, with my knife.
...save thy life.
And yours from long living.
...news of him.
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
...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.
...is the shooter?
Shall I teach you to know?
...continent of beauty.
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off.
...Finely put on.
Well, then, I am the shooter.
...is your deer?
If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.
Finely put on, indeed.
...hit her now?
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying,
that was a man when King Pippen of France was a
little boy, as touching the hit it?
...the hit it.
sings
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
...cannot, another can.
Rosaline exits.
ACT 5
Scene 2
...our sport! Away.
Enter the Ladies (the Princess, Rosaline, Katherine, and Maria.)
...shows a jewel.
Madam, came nothing else along with that?
...on Cupid’s name.
That was the way to make his godhead wax,
For he hath been five thousand year a boy.
...unhappy gallows, too.
You’ll ne’er be friends with him. He killed your sister.
...heart lives long.
What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
...a beauty dark.
We need more light to find your meaning out.
...end the argument.
Look what you do, you do it still i’ th’ dark.
...a light wench.
Indeed, I weigh not you, and therefore light.
...not for me.
Great reason: for past care is still past cure.
...what is it?
I would you knew.
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favor were as great. Be witness this. She shows a gift.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne;
The numbers true; and were the numb’ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground.
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter.
... Anything like?
Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
...in a copybook.
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!
...our lovers so.
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne I’ll torture ere I go.
O, that I knew he were but in by th’ 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,
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So pair-taunt-like would I o’ersway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
...a learnèd fool.
The blood of youth burns not with such excess
As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.
...me for Rosaline.
Princess and Rosaline exchange favors.
...Maria exchange favors.
Come on, then, wear the favors most in sight.
...talk and greet.
But shall we dance, if they desire us to ’t?
...the maskers come.
The Ladies mask.
...the fairest dames
(The Ladies turn their backs to him.)
...Begone, you rogue!
speaking as the Princess
What would these strangers? Know their minds, Boyet.
If they do speak our language, ’tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.
...and gentle visitation.
What would they, say they?
...and gentle visitation.
Why, that they have, and bid them so be gone.
...on this grass.
It is not so. Ask them how many inches
Is in one mile. If they have measured many,
The measure then of one is eas’ly told.
...She hears herself.
How many weary steps
Of many weary miles you have o’ergone
Are numbered in the travel of one mile?
...may worship it.
My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
...our watery eyne.
O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter!
Thou now requests but moonshine in the water.
...is not strange.
Play music, then. Nay, you must do it soon.
Music begins.
Not yet? No dance! Thus change I like the moon.
...you thus estranged?
You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.
...motion to it.
Our ears vouchsafe it.
...should do it.
Since you are strangers and come here by chance,
We’ll not be nice. Take hands. We will not dance.
She offers her hand.
...we hands then?
Only to part friends.—
Curtsy, sweethearts—and so the measure ends.
...Be not nice.
We can afford no more at such a price.
...buys your company?
Your absence only.
...can never be.
Then cannot we be bought. And so adieu—
Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
...hold more chat.
In private, then.
...pleased with that.
They move aside.
...swifter things.
Not one word more, my maids. Break off, break off!
The Ladies move away from the Lords.
...have simple wits.
The Ladies unmask.
...puffed out.
Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
...of count’nance quite.
They were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
...as thou art!
Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
But will you hear? The King is my love sworn.
...shapes to woo?
Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised,
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 penned,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
...runs o’er land.
The Princess and the Ladies exit.
...of his part!
Enter the Ladies, with Boyet.
...and of state.
Madam, speak true.—It is not so, my lord.
My lady, to the manner of the days,
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four indeed confronted were with four
In Russian habit. Here they stayed an hour
And talked apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think:
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
...things but poor.
This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye—
...full of poverty.
But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
...that I possess!
All the fool mine?
...give you less.
Which of the vizards was it that you wore?
...demand you this?
There; then; that vizard; that superfluous case
That hid the worse and showed the better face.
...your Highness sad?
Help, hold his brows! He’ll swoon!—Why look you pale?
Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
...crack or flaw.
Sans “sans,” I pray you.
...to undo us.
It is not so, for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
...do with you.
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
...in your ear?
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.
...such an oath.
By heaven, you did! And to confirm it plain,
You gave me this. She shows a token.
But take it,
sir, again.
...did our looks.
We did not quote them so.
...for thy love.
Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue
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,
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,
With all the fierce endeavor of your wit,
To enforce the painèd impotent to smile.
...soul in agony.
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
Of him that makes it. Then if sickly ears,
Deafed with the clamors 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,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
...we this way.
They all exit.