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Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
ARMADO Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that’s he.
I shoot thee at the swain.
MOTH Thump then, and I flee. Exit.
ARMADO
A most acute juvenal, voluble and free of grace!
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By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is returned.
Enter MOTH, the Page, and COSTARD, the Clown.
MOTH
A wonder, master! Here’s a costard broken in a shin.
ARMADO
Some enigma, some riddle. Come, thy l’envoy – begin.
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COSTARD No egma, no riddle, no l’envoy, no salve in the
mail, sir! O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! No l’envoy,
no l’envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain!
ARMADO By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes
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me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars!
Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l’envoy, and the
word ‘l’envoy’ for a salve?
MOTH Do the wise think them other? Is not l’envoy a salve?
ARMADO
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No, page; it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:
The fox, the ape and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three.
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There’s the moral. Now the l’envoy.
MOTH I will add the l’envoy. Say the moral again.
ARMADO The fox, the ape and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three.
MOTH Until the goose came out of door,
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And stayed the odds by adding four.
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l’envoy.
The fox, the ape and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three.
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ARMADO Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.
MOTH A good l’envoy, ending in the goose. Would you desire more?
COSTARD
The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that’s flat.
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Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
Let me see: a fat l’envoy – ay, that’s a fat goose.
ARMADO
Come hither, come hither. How did this argument
begin?
MOTH By saying that a costard was broken in a shin.
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Then called you for the l’envoy.
COSTARD True, and I for a plantain: thus came your
argument in. Then the boy’s fat l’envoy, the goose that
you bought; and he ended the market.
ARMADO But tell me, how was there a costard broken in
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a shin?
MOTH I will tell you sensibly.
COSTARD Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth. I will speak
that l’envoy.
I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
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Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.
ARMADO We will talk no more of this matter.
COSTARD Till there be more matter in the shin.
ARMADO Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
COSTARD O, marry me to one Frances! I smell some
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l’envoy, some goose in this.
ARMADO By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at
liberty, enfreedoming thy person. Thou wert
immured, restrained, captivated, bound.
COSTARD True, true, and now you will be my
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purgation, and let me loose.
ARMADO I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance,
and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this:
[Gives Costard a letter.] bear this significant to the
country maid Jaquenetta. There is remuneration,
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[Gives Costard a coin.] for the best ward of mine
honour is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.
Exit.
MOTH Like the sequel, I. Signor Costard, adieu.
Exit.
COSTARD
My sweet ounce of man’s flesh, my incony jew!
Now will I look to his remuneration. ‘Remuneration’!
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O, that’s the Latin word for three farthings. Three
farthings – remuneration. ‘What’s the price of this
inkle?’ ‘One penny.’ ‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration.’
Why, it carries it! ‘Remuneration’! Why, it is a fairer
name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out
of this word.
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Enter BEROWNE.
BEROWNE My good knave Costard, exceedingly well
met.
COSTARD Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration?
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BEROWNE What is a remuneration?
COSTARD Marry, sir, halfpenny-farthing.
BEROWN Why then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
COSTARD I thank your worship. God be wi’you.
BEROWNE Stay, slave. I must employ thee.
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As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
COSTARD When would you have it done, sir?
BEROWNE This afternoon.
COSTARD Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well.
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BEROWNE Thou knowest not what it is.
COSTARD I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
BEROWNE Why, villain, thou must know first.
COSTARD I will come to your worship tomorrow morning.
BEROWNE It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it
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is but this:
The Princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
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And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This sealed-up counsel. [Gives Costard a letter.]
There’s thy guerdon: go.
[Gives Costard money.]
COSTARD Guerdon, O sweet guerdon! Better than
remuneration, elevenpence-farthing better. Most
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sweet guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print. Guerdon!
Remuneration! Exit.
BEROWNE
And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love’s whip,
A very beadle to a humorous sigh,
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
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A domineering pedant o’er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This Signor Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
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Th’anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting paritors – O my little heart!
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And I to be a corporal of his field
And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop!
What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife?
A woman that is like a German clo
ck,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame
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And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watched that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
And among three to love the worst of all,
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
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With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her! Go to, it is a plague
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That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan.
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. Exit.
4.1 Enter the PRINCESS, a Forester, her ladies, ROSALINE, MARIA and KATHERINE and her lords, BOYET and others.
PRINCESS
Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard
Against the steep-up rising of the hill?
BOYET I know not, but I think it was not he.
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PRINCESS Whoe’er ‘a was, ‘a showed a mounting mind.
Well, lords, today we shall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
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FORESTER Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice,
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
PRINCESS I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak’st ‘the fairest shoot’.
FORESTER Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
PRINCESS What, what? First praise me, and again say
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no?
O, short-lived pride! Not fair? Alack for woe!
FORESTER Yes, madam, fair.
PRINCESS Nay, never paint me now.
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
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[Gives him money.]
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
FORESTER Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
PRINCESS See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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But come, the bow. Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
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That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And out of question so it is sometimes,
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
When for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
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As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill.
BOYET Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise’ sake when they strive to be
Lords o’er their lords?
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PRINCESS Only for praise, and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
Enter COSTARD, the Clown, with a letter.
BOYET Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
COSTARD God dig-you-den all! Pray you which is the
head lady?
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PRINCESS Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that
have no heads.
COSTARD Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
PRINCESS The thickest and the tallest.
COSTARD The thickest and the tallest. It is so, truth is
truth.
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An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o’these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest
here.
PRINCESS What’s your will, sir? What’s your will?
COSTARD
I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady
Rosaline.
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PRINCESS
O, thy letter, thy letter! He’s a good friend of mine.
[Takes the letter.]
Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve:
Break up this capon.
BOYET I am bound to serve.
[Examines the letter.]
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 328
