• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 19537 0

unto: 'Your Ladyship's in all desired employment, Berowne.' Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the votaries with the King; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the King; it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty. Adieu. JAQUENETTA. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life! COSTARD. Have with thee, my girl. Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA NATHANIEL. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith- HOLOFERNES. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel? NATHANIEL. Marvellous well for the pen. HOLOFERNES. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society. NATHANIEL. And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life. HOLOFERNES. And certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. [To DULL] Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. Exeunt

SCENE III. The park

Enter BEROWNE, with a paper his band, alone

BEROWNE.

The King he is hunting the deer: I am coursing myself.

They have pitch'd a toil: I am tolling in a pitch- pitch that

defiles. Defile! a foul word. Well, 'set thee down, sorrow!' for

so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I am the fool.

Well

proved, wit. By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills

sheep; it kills me- I a sheep. Well proved again o' my side.

I

will not love; if I do, hang me. I' faith, I will not. O, but her

eye! By this light, but for her eye, I would not love her-

yes,

for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and

lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love; and it hath taught me to

rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and

here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already; the

clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet

clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not

care a pin if the other three were in. Here comes one with a

paper; God give him grace to groan!

[Climbs into a tree]

Enter the KING, with a paper

KING.

Ay me!

BEROWNE.

Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd

him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets!

KING.

[Reads]

'So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote

The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows;

Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright

Through the transparent bosom of the deep,

As doth thy face through tears of mine give light.

Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep;

No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;

So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.

Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will show.

But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep

My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.

O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel

No thought can think nor tongue of mortal tell.'

How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper-

Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?

[Steps aside]

[Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper]

What, Longaville, and reading! Listen, ear.

BEROWNE.

Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!

LONGAVILLE.

Ay me, I am forsworn!

BEROWNE.

Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.

KING.

In love, I hope; sweet fellowship in shame!

BEROWNE.

One drunkard loves another of the name.

LONGAVILLE.

Am I the first that have been perjur'd so?

BEROWNE.

I could put thee