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COSTARD.

I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one

Lady Rosaline.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

O, thy letter, thy letter! He's a good friend of mine.

Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve.

Break up this capon.

BOYET.

I am bound to serve.

This letter is mistook; it importeth none here.

It is writ to Jaquenetta.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

We will read it, I swear.

Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

BOYET.

[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,

saw,

and overcame. He came, one; saw, 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 enrich'd; 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 are thou then?

Food for his rage, repasture for his den.'

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?

What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better?

BOYET.

I am much deceived but I remember the style.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.

BOYET.

This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;

A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport

To the Prince and his book-mates.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

Thou fellow, a word.

Who gave thee this letter?

COSTARD.

I told you: my lord.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

To whom shouldst thou give it?

COSTARD.

From my lord to my lady.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

From which lord to which lady?

COSTARD.

From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,

To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE.

Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.

[To ROSALINE] Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another

day. Exeunt PRINCESS and TRAIN

BOYET.

Who is the shooter? who is the shooter?

ROSALINE.

Shall I teach you to know?

BOYET.

Ay, my continent of beauty.

ROSALINE.

Why, she that bears the bow.

Finely put off!

BOYET.

My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry,

Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.

Finely put on!

ROSALINE.

Well then, I am the shooter.

BOYET.

And who is your deer?

ROSALINE.

If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.

Finely put on indeed!

MARIA.

You Still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

BOYET.

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

ROSALINE.

Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man

when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

BOYET.

So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when

Queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

ROSALINE.

[Singing]

Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,

Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

BOYET.

An I cannot,