DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit
grows melancholy? |
| MOTH
|
A great sign, sir, that he
will look sad. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. |
| MOTH
|
No, no; O Lord, sir, no.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my
tender juvenal? |
| MOTH
|
By a familiar
demonstration of the working, my tough senior. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Why tough senior? why tough senior? |
| MOTH
|
Why tender juvenal? why
tender juvenal? |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton
appertaining to thy young days, which we may
nominate tender. |
| MOTH
|
And I, tough senior, as an
appertinent title to your
old time, which we may name tough. |
DON
ADRIANO DE
ARMADO |
Pretty and apt. |
| MOTH
|
How mean you, sir? I
pretty, and my saying apt? or
I apt, and my saying pretty? |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Thou pretty, because little. |
| MOTH
|
Little pretty, because
little. Wherefore apt? |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
And therefore apt, because quick. |
| MOTH
|
Speak you this in my
praise, master? |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
In thy condign praise. |
| MOTH
|
I will praise an eel with
the same praise. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
What, that an eel is ingenious? |
| MOTH
|
That an eel is quick.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest my blood. |
| MOTH
|
I am answered, sir.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I love not to be crossed. |
| MOTH
|
[Aside] He speaks the mere
contrary; crosses love not him. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I have promised to study three years with the duke. |
| MOTH
|
You may do it in an hour,
sir. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Impossible. |
| MOTH
|
How many is one thrice
told? |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. |
| MOTH
|
You are a gentleman and a
gamester, sir. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I confess both: they are both the varnish of a
complete man. |
| MOTH
|
Then, I am sure, you know
how much the gross sum of
deuce-ace amounts to. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
It doth amount to one more than two. |
| MOTH
|
Which the base vulgar do
call three. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
True. |
| MOTH
|
Why, sir, is this such a
piece of study? Now here
is three studied, ere ye'll thrice wink: and how
easy it is to put 'years' to the word 'three,' and
study three years in two words, the dancing horse
will tell you. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
A most fine figure! |
| MOTH
|
To prove you a cipher.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is
base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a
base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour
of affection would deliver me from the reprobate
thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and
ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised
courtesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I should
outswear Cupid. Comfort, me, boy: what great men
have been in love? |
| MOTH
|
Hercules, master.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name
more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good
repute and carriage. |
| MOTH
|
Samson, master: he was a
man of good carriage, great
carriage, for he carried the town-gates on his back
like a porter: and he was in love. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do
excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in
carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson's
love, my dear Moth? |
| MOTH
|
A woman, master.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Of what complexion? |
| MOTH
|
Of all the four, or the
three, or the two, or one of the four. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Tell me precisely of what complexion. |
| MOTH
|
Of the sea-water green,
sir. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Is that one of the four complexions? |
| MOTH
|
As I have read, sir; and
the best of them too. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Green indeed is the colour of lovers; but to have a
love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason
for it. He surely affected her for her wit. |
MOTH
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
It was so, sir; for she
had a green wit.
My love is most immaculate white and red. |
| MOTH
|
Most maculate thoughts,
master, are masked under
such colours. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Define, define, well-educated infant. |
| MOTH
|
My father's wit and my
mother's tongue, assist me! |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and
pathetical! |
| MOTH
|
If she be made of white
and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known,
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred
And fears by pale white shown:
Then if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheeks possess the same
Which native she doth owe.
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of
white and red. |
DON
ADRIANO DE 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. |
DON
ADRIANO DE 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 whipped; and
yet a better love than
my master. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. |
| MOTH
|
And that's great marvel,
loving a light wench. |
DON
ADRIANO DE 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 allowed for the day-woman. Fare you well. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I do betray myself with blushing. Maid! |
| JAQUENETTA
|
Man? |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I will visit thee at the lodge. |
| JAQUENETTA
|
That's hereby.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I know where it is situate. |
| JAQUENETTA
|
Lord, how wise you are!
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I will tell thee wonders. |
| JAQUENETTA
|
With that face?
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
I love thee. |
| JAQUENETTA
|
So I heard you say.
|
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
And so, farewell. |
| JAQUENETTA
|
Fair weather after you!
|
| DULL
|
Come, Jaquenetta, away!
|
| |
[Exeunt DULL and
JAQUENETTA] |
DON
ADRIANO DE 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. |
DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO |
Thou shalt be heavily punished. |
| COSTARD
|
I am more bound to you
than your fellows, for they
are but lightly rewarded. |
DON
ADRIANO DE 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]
|
DON
ADRIANO DE 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] |
