Love’s Labour’s Lost

1 Enter the Princess, a Forester, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet and
2 other Lords.
3 PRINCESS.
4 Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard
5 Against the steep uprising of the hill?
6 BOYET.
7 I know not, but I think it was not he.
8 PRINCESS.
9 Whoe’er he was, he showed a mounting mind.
10 Well, lords, today we shall have our dispatch;
11 On Saturday we will return to France.
12 Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
13 That we must stand and play the murderer in?
14 FORESTER.
15 Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice,
16 A stand where you may make “the fairest shoot”.
17 PRINCESS.
18 I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
19 And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoot.
20 FORESTER.
21 Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
22 PRINCESS.
23 What, what? First praise me, and again say no?
24 O short-lived pride! Not fair? Alack for woe!
25 FORESTER.
26 Yes, madam, fair.
27 PRINCESS.
28 Nay, never paint me now.
29 Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
30 Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
31 [_She gives him money._]
32 Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
33 FORESTER.
34 Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
35 PRINCESS.
36 See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit.
37 O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
38 A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
39 But come, the bow. Now mercy goes to kill,
40 And shooting well is then accounted ill.
41 Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
42 Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t;
43 If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
44 That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
45 And out of question so it is sometimes,
46 Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
47 When, for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward part,
48 We bend to that the working of the heart;
49 As I for praise alone now seek to spill
50 The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill.
51 BOYET.
52 Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
53 Only for praise’ sake, when they strive to be
54 Lords o’er their lords?
55 PRINCESS.
56 Only for praise; and praise we may afford
57 To any lady that subdues a lord.
58 Enter Costard.
59 BOYET.
60 Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
61 COSTARD.
62 God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?
63 PRINCESS.
64 Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
65 COSTARD.
66 Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
67 PRINCESS.
68 The thickest and the tallest.
69 COSTARD.
70 The thickest and the tallest. It is so, truth is truth.
71 An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
72 One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit.
73 Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here.
74 PRINCESS.
75 What’s your will, sir? What’s your will?
76 COSTARD.
77 I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady Rosaline.
78 PRINCESS.
79 O, thy letter, thy letter! He’s a good friend of mine.
80 Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve.
81 Break up this capon.
82 BOYET.
83 I am bound to serve.
84 This letter is mistook; it importeth none here.
85 It is writ to Jaquenetta.
86 PRINCESS.
87 We will read it, I swear.
88 Break the neck of the wax, and everyone give ear.
89 BOYET.
90 [_Reads_.] _By heaven, that thou art fair is most infallible; true that
91 thou art beauteous; truth itself that thou art lovely. More fairer than
92 fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
93 commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most
94 illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate
95 beggar Zenelophon, and he it was that might rightly say,_ “Veni, vidi,
96 vici,” _which to annothanize in the vulgar—O base and obscure
97 vulgar!_—videlicet, _He came, see, and overcame. He came, one; see,
98 two; overcame, three. Who came? The King. Why did he come? To see. Why
99 did he see? To overcome. To whom came he? To the beggar. What saw he?
100 The beggar. Who overcame he? The beggar. The conclusion is victory. On
101 whose side? The King’s. The captive is enriched. On whose side? The
102 beggar’s. The catastrophe is a nuptial. On whose side? The King’s? No,
103 on both in one, or one in both. I am the King, for so stands the
104 comparison; thou the beggar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I
105 command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I
106 entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? Robes. For
107 tittles? Titles. For thyself? Me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane
108 my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every
109 part.
110 Thine in the dearest design of industry,
111 Don Adriano de Armado.
112 Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
113 ’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.
114 Submissive fall his princely feet before,
115 And he from forage will incline to play.
116 But if thou strive, poor soul, what are thou then?
117 Food for his rage, repasture for his den._
118 PRINCESS.
119 What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
120 What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better?
121 BOYET.
122 I am much deceived but I remember the style.
123 PRINCESS.
124 Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile.
125 BOYET.
126 This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court,
127 A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
128 To the Prince and his book-mates.
129 PRINCESS.
130 Thou, fellow, a word.
131 Who gave thee this letter?
132 COSTARD.
133 I told you: my lord.
134 PRINCESS.
135 To whom shouldst thou give it?
136 COSTARD.
137 From my lord to my lady.
138 PRINCESS.
139 From which lord to which lady?
140 COSTARD.
141 From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
142 To a lady of France that he called Rosaline.
143 PRINCESS.
144 Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
145 Here, sweet, put up this: ’twill be thine another day.
146 [_Exeunt all but Boyet, Rosaline, Maria and Costard._]
147 BOYET.
148 Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
149 ROSALINE.
150 Shall I teach you to know?
151 BOYET.
152 Ay, my continent of beauty.
153 ROSALINE.
154 Why, she that bears the bow.
155 Finely put off!
156 BOYET.
157 My lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry,
158 Hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry.
159 Finely put on!
160 ROSALINE.
161 Well, then, I am the shooter.
162 BOYET.
163 And who is your deer?
164 ROSALINE.
165 If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.
166 Finely put on indeed!
167 MARIA.
168 You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
169 BOYET.
170 But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?
171 ROSALINE.
172 Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King
173 Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?
174 BOYET.
175 So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen
176 Guinevere of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
177 ROSALINE.
178 Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
179 Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
180 BOYET.
181 An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
182 An I cannot, another can.
183 [_Exeunt Rosaline._]
184 COSTARD.
185 By my troth, most pleasant. How both did fit it!
186 MARIA.
187 A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.
188 BOYET.
189 A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!
190 Let the mark have a prick in’t, to mete at, if it may be.
191 MARIA.
192 Wide o’ the bow hand! I’ faith, your hand is out.
193 COSTARD.
194 Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er hit the clout.
195 BOYET.
196 An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
197 COSTARD.
198 Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
199 MARIA.
200 Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
201 COSTARD.
202 She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir. Challenge her to bowl.
203 BOYET.
204 I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
205 [_Exeunt Boyet and Maria._]
206 COSTARD.
207 By my soul, a swain, a most simple clown!
208 Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down!
209 O’ my troth, most sweet jests, most incony vulgar wit,
210 When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
211 Armado, o’ the one side, O, a most dainty man!
212 To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan!
213 To see him kiss his hand and how most sweetly he will swear!
214 And his page o’ t’other side, that handful of wit!
215 Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit.
216 [_Shout within._]
217 Sola, sola!
218 [_Exit._]