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Love’s Labour’s Lost by William Shakespeare

FERDINAND I say they shall not come.

PRINCESS Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:

That sport best pleases that doth least know how:

Where zeal strives to content, and the contents

Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:

Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,

When great things labouring perish in their birth.

BIRON A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO

ADRIANO DE ARMADO Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal

sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

Converses apart with FERDINAND, and delivers him a paper

PRINCESS Doth this man serve God?

BIRON Why ask you?

PRINCESS He speaks not like a man of God’s making.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for,

I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding

fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we

will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra.

I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

Exit

FERDINAND Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He

presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the

Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page,

Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus: And if

these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the other five.

BIRON There is five in the first show.

FERDINAND You are deceived; ’tis not so.

BIRON The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool

and the boy:–

Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again

Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

FERDINAND The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

Enter COSTARD, for Pompey

COSTARD I Pompey am,–

BOYET You lie, you are not he.

COSTARD I Pompey am,–

BOYET With libbard’s head on knee.

BIRON Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends

with thee.

COSTARD I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big–

DUMAIN The Great.

COSTARD It is, ‘Great,’ sir:–

Pompey surnamed the Great;

That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make

my foe to sweat:

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France,

If your ladyship would say, ‘Thanks, Pompey,’ I had done.

PRINCESS Great thanks, great Pompey.

COSTARD ‘Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I

made a little fault in ‘Great.’

BIRON My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for Alexander

SIR NATHANIEL When in the world I lived, I was the world’s

commander;

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my

conquering might:

My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,–

BOYET Your nose says, no, you are not for it stands too right.

BIRON Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.

PRINCESS The conqueror is dismay’d. Proceed, good Alexander.

SIR NATHANIEL When in the world I lived, I was the world’s

commander,–

BOYET Most true, ’tis right; you were so, Alisander.

BIRON Pompey the Great,–

COSTARD Your servant, and Costard.

BIRON Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

COSTARD [To SIR NATHANIEL]

O, sir, you have overthrown

Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of

the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds

his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given

to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror,

and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander.

SIR NATHANIEL retires

There, an’t shall please you; a foolish mild man; an

honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a

marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good

bowler: but, for Alisander,–alas, you see how

’tis,–a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies

a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Enter HOLOFERNES, for Judas; and MOTH, for Hercules

HOLOFERNES Great Hercules is presented by this imp,

Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that three-headed canis;

And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.

Quoniam he seemeth in minority,

Ergo I come with this apology.

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.

MOTH retires

Judas I am,–

DUMAIN A Judas!

HOLOFERNES Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.

DUMAIN Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.

BIRON A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?

HOLOFERNES Judas I am,–

DUMAIN The more shame for you, Judas.

HOLOFERNES What mean you, sir?

BOYET To make Judas hang himself.

HOLOFERNES Begin, sir; you are my elder.

BIRON Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

HOLOFERNES I will not be put out of countenance.

BIRON Because thou hast no face.

HOLOFERNES What is this?

BOYET A cittern-head.

DUMAIN The head of a bodkin.

BIRON A Death’s face in a ring.

LONGAVILLE The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

BOYET The pommel of Caesar’s falchion.

DUMAIN The carved-bone face on a flask.

BIRON Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.

DUMAIN Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

BIRON Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.

And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

HOLOFERNES You have put me out of countenance.

BIRON False; we have given thee faces.

HOLOFERNES But you have out-faced them all.

BIRON An thou wert a lion, we would do so.

BOYET Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.

And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

DUMAIN For the latter end of his name.

BIRON For the ass to the Jude; give it him:–Jud-as, away!

HOLOFERNES This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

BOYET A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble.

HOLOFERNES retires

PRINCESS Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!

Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, for Hector

BIRON Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.

DUMAIN Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

FERDINAND Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

BOYET But is this Hector?

FERDINAND I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.

LONGAVILLE His leg is too big for Hector’s.

DUMAIN More calf, certain.

BOYET No; he is best endued in the small.

BIRON This cannot be Hector.

DUMAIN He’s a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift,–

DUMAIN A gilt nutmeg.

BIRON A lemon.

LONGAVILLE Stuck with cloves.

DUMAIN No, cloven.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO Peace!–

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea

From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

I am that flower,–

DUMAIN That mint.

LONGAVILLE That columbine.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

LONGAVILLE I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

DUMAIN Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks,

beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed,

he was a man. But I will forward with my device.

To the PRINCESS

Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

PRINCESS Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO I do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.

BOYET [Aside to DUMAIN]

Loves her by the foot,–

DUMAIN [Aside to BOYET]

He may not by the yard.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,–

COSTARD The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she

is two months on her way.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO What meanest thou?

COSTARD Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor

wench is cast away: she’s quick; the child brags in

her belly already: tis yours.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt

die.

COSTARD Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is

quick by him and hanged for Pompey that is dead by

him.

DUMAIN Most rare Pompey!

BOYET Renowned Pompey!

BIRON Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!

Pompey the Huge!

DUMAIN Hector trembles.

BIRON Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them

on! stir them on!

DUMAIN Hector will challenge him.

BIRON Ay, if a’ have no man’s blood in’s belly than will

sup a flea.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

COSTARD I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man:

I’ll slash; I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you,

let me borrow my arms again.

DUMAIN Room for the incensed Worthies!

COSTARD I’ll do it in my shirt.

DUMAIN Most resolute Pompey!

MOTH Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you

not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean

you? You will lose your reputation.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat

in my shirt.

DUMAIN You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

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