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{Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, MARIA, and ROSALINE.}
PRINCESS. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady wall’d about with diamonds:
Look you what I have from the loving King.
ROSALINE. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
PRINCESS. Nothing but this: yes as much love in Rhyme,
As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
ROSALINE. That was the way to make his godhead Wax:
For he hath been five thousand years a Boy.
KATHARINE. Aye and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
ROSALINE. You’ll ne’er be friends with him, a kill’d your sister.
KATHARINE. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;
And so she died: had she been Light, like you, of such a merry,
nimble stirring spirit, she might a been Grandam ere she died.
And so may you: For a light heart lives long.
ROSALINE. What’s your dark meaning mouse, of this light word?
KATHARINE. A light condition in a beauty dark.
ROSALINE. We need more light to find your meaning out.
KATHARINE. You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff:
Therefore I‘ll darkly end the argument.
ROSALINE. Look what you do, you do it still in the dark.
KATHARINE. So do not you, for you are a light Wench.
ROSALINE. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
KATHARINE. You weigh me not, Oh that’s you care not for me.
ROSALINE. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure.
PRINCESS. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.
But Rosaline, you have a Favor too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
ROSALINE. I would you knew:
And if my face were but as fair as yours,
My Favor were as great, be witness this.
Nay I have Verses too, I thank Berowne:
The numbers true, and were the numbering too,
I were the fairest Goddess on the ground.
I am compar’d to twenty thousand fairs.
Oh he hath drawn my picture in his letter.
PRINCESS. Any thing like?
ROSALINE. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
PRINCESS. Beauteous as Ink: a good conclusion.
KATHARINE. Fair as a text B in a Copy-book.
ROSALINE. Where pencils, How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter,
Oh that your face were not so full of O’s.
PRINCESS. A pox of that jest, and I beshrew all Shrews!
But, Katharine what was sent to you
From fair Dumaine?
KATHARINE. Madam, this Glove.
PRINCESS. Did he not send you twain?
KATHARINE. Yes madam: and moreover,
Some thousand Verses of a faithful lover.
A huge translation of hypocrisy,
Wildly compiled, profound simplicity.
MARIA. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longaville.
The Letter is too long by half a mile.
PRINCESS. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The Chain were longer, and the Letter short.
MARIA. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
PRINCESS. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
ROSALINE. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne I’ll torture ere I go.
Oh that I knew he were but in by the week.
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes.
And shape his service wholly to my device,
And make him proud to make me proud that jests,
So pert taunt would I o’er sway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
PRINCESS. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,
As Wit turned Fool, folly in Wisdom hatch’d:
Hath Wisdom’s warrant, and the help of School
And Wits own grace to grace a learned Fool.
ROSALINE. The blood of youth burns not with such excess,
As gravity’s revolt to wantons be.
MARIA. Folly in Fools bears not so strong a note,
As foolery in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove by Wit, worth in simplicity.
{Enter BOYET.}
PRINCESS. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
BOYET. Oh I am stable with laughter, Where’s her Grace?
PRINCESS. Thy news Boyet?
BOYET. Prepare Madam, prepare.
Arm Wenches arm, encounters mounted are,
Against your Peace Love doth approach, disguised,
Armed in arguments, you‘ll be surprised.
Muster your Wits, stand in your own defense,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and fly hence.
PRINCESS. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid: What are they,
That charge their breath against us? Say scout, say.
BOYET. Under the cool shade of a Sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour:
When lo to interrupt my purpos’d rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addressed,
The King and his companions warily,
I stole into a neighbor thicket by,
And over heard, what you shall over hear:
That by and by disguised they will be here.
Their Herald is a pretty knavish Page:
That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage
Action and accent did they teach his there.
‘Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear’.
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Presence majestical would put his out:
For quoth the king, ‘an Angel shalt thou see:
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously’.
The Boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil:
I should have feared her had she been a devil.’
With that all laughed and clapp’d on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
One rubbed elbow thus, and fleered, and swore,
A better speech was never spoke before.
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cried ‘via we will do it come what will come’.
The third he capered and cried, ‘All goes well’.
The fourth turned on the toe, and down he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To check their folly passion’s solemn tears.
PRINCESS. But what, but what, come they to visit us?
BOYET. They do, they do; and are apparelled thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is to parley, to court, and dance,
And every one his Love-feat will advance,
Unto his several Mistress: which they‘ll know
By Favors several, which they did bestow.
PRINCESS. And will they so? the Gallants shall be task’d:
For Ladies; we will every one be mask’d,
And not a man of them shall have the grace
Despite of suit, to see a Lady’s face.
Hold Rosaline, this Favor thou shalt wear,
And then the King will court thee for his Dear:
Hold take thou this my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change your Favors too, so shall your Loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.
ROSALINE. Come on then, wear the Favors most in sight.
KATHARINE. But in this changing, What is your intent?
PRINCESS. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
They do it but in mockery merriment,
And mock for mock is only my intent,
Their several counsels they unbosom shall,
To Loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal.
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With Visages displayed to talk and greet.
ROSALINE. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t?
PRINCESS. No, to the death we will not move a foot,
Nor to their pend speech render we no grace:
But while tis spoke each turn away his face.
BOYET. Why that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.
PRINCESS. Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt,
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
There’s no such sport, as sport by sport o’erthrown:
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own.
So shall we stay mocking intended game,
And they well mock’d depart away with shame.
BOYET. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d the maskers, come .
{Enter PAGE, followed by KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAINE, and BEROWNE disguised.}
PAGE. All hail, the richest Beauties on the earth.
BOYET. Beauties no richer than rich Taffeta.
PAGE. A holy parcel of the fairest dames that ever turn’d their —
— backs to mortal views.
BEROWNE. “Their eyes,” villain, “their eyes.”
PAGE. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views.
Out—
BOYET. True, out indeed.
PAGE. Out of your favors heavenly spirits vouchsafe
Not to behold.
BEROWNE. “Once to behold,” rogue.
PAGE. Once to behold with your Sun beamed eyes … With your Sun-beamed eyes —
BOYET. They will not answer to that Epithet.
You were best call it Daughter-beamed eyes.
PAGE. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
BEROWNE. Is this your perfectness? begone you rogue.
ROSALINE. What would these strangers?
Know their minds Boyet.
If they do speak our language, tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would?
BOYET. What would you with the Princess?
BEROWNE. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
ROSALINE. What would they, say they?
BOYET. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
ROSALINE. Why that they have, and bid them so be gone.
BOYET. She says you have it, and you may be gone.
KING. Say to her we have measur’d many miles,
To tread a Measure with her on this grass.
BOYET. They say that they have measur’d many a mile,
To tread a Measure with you on this grass.
ROSALINE. It is not so. Ask them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they have measured many,
The measure then of one is easily told.
BOYET. If to come hither, you have measured miles,
And many miles: the Princess bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill up one mile?
BEROWNE. Tell her we measure them by weary steps.
BOYET. She hears her self.
ROSALINE. How many weary steps,
Of many weary miles you have o’er gone,
Are numbered in the travel of one Mile?
BEROWNE. We number nothing that we spend for you,
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
That we may do it still without account.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
That we (like savages) may worship it.
ROSALINE. My face is but a Moon, and clouded too.
KING. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do.
Vouchsafe bright Moon, and these thy Stars to shine,
(Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyne.
ROSALINE. O’ vain petitioner, beg a greater matter,
Thou now requests but Moonshine in the water.
KING. Then in our measure, do but vouchsafe one change,
Thou bid’st me beg, this begging is not strange.
ROSALINE. Play Music then: nay you must do it soon.
Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moon.
KING. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
ROSALINE. You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed?
KING. Yet still she is the Moon, and I the Man.
ROSALINE. The music plays, vouchsafe some motion to it,
Our ears vouchsafe it.
KING. But your legs should do it.
ROSALINE. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
We’ll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance.
KING. Why take we hands then?
ROSALINE. Only to part friends.
Curtsy sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends.
KING. More measure of this measure be not nice.
ROSALINE. We can afford no more at such a price.
KING. Price you your selves: What buys your company?
ROSALINE. Your absence only.
KING. That can never be.
ROSALINE. Then cannot we be bought: and so adieu;
Twice to your Visor, and half once to you.
KING. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.
ROSALINE. In private then.
KING. I am best pleased with that.
BEROWNE. White-handed Mistress, one sweet word with thee.
PRINCESS. Honey, and Milk, and Sugar: there is three.
BEROWNE. Nay then two treys, an if you grow so nice,
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well run, dice:
There’s half-a-dozen sweets.
PRINCESS. Seventh sweet, adieu, since you can cog,
I’ll play no more with you.
BEROWNE. One word in secret.
PRINCESS. Let it not be sweet.
BEROWNE. Thou grievest my gall.
PRINCESS. Gall, bitter,
BEROWNE. Therefore meet.
DUMAINE. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
MARIA. Name it.
DUMAINE. Fair lady.
MARIA. Say you so? Fair Lord, take that for your fair Lady
DUMAINE. Please it you, as much in private, and I’ll bid adieu.
MARIA. What, was your visor made without a tongue?
LONGAVILLE. I know the reason (Lady) why you ask.
MARIA. Oh for your reason, quickly sir, I long?
LONGAVILLE. You have a double tongue within your Mask,
And would afford my speechless visor half.
MARIA. Veal quoth the Dutch-man: is not veal a Calf?
LONGAVILLE. A Calf fair Lady.
MARIA. No, a fair lord Calf.
LONGAVILLE. Let’s part the word?
MARIA. No, I’ll not be your half:
Take all and wean it: it may prove an Ox.
LONGAVILLE. Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks,
Will you give horns chaste lady? do not so.
MARIA. Then die a Calf, before your horns do grow.
LONGAVILLE. One word in private with you ere I die.
MARIA. Bleat softly then, the Butcher hears you cry.
BOYET. The tongues of mocking Wenches are as keen
As is the Razor’s edge invisible:
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen,
Above the sense of sense so sensible,
Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings,
Fleeter than arrows, bullets wind thought swifter things.
ROSALINE. Not one word more my Maids, break off, break off.
BEROWNE. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff.
KING. Farewell mad Wenches, you have simple wits.
{Exit KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAINE, and BEROWNE.}
PRINCESS. Twenty adieus my frozen Muscovites.
Are these the breed of Wits so wonder’d at?
BOYET. Tapers they are with your sweet breaths puffed out.
ROSALINE. Well-liking Wits they have gross gross, fat fat.
PRINCESS. Oh poverty in wit, Kingly poor flout.
Will they not (think you) hang themselves to-night?
Or ever but in visors show their faces.
This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.
ROSALINE. They were all in lamentable cases,
The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
PRINCESS. Berowne did swear himself out of all suit.
MARIA. Dumaine was at my service, and his sword,
No point (quoth I) my servant, straight was mute.
KATHARINE. Lord Longaville said I came o’er his heart:
And know you what he called me?
PRINCESS. Qualm perhaps.
KATHARINE. Yes in good faith.
PRINCESS. Go sickness as thou art.
ROSALINE. Well, better wits have worn plain statute Caps.
But you will hear; the King is my Love sworn.
PRINCESS. And quick Berowne hath plighted Faith to me.
KATHARINE. And Longaville was for my service born.
MARIA. Dumaine is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
BOYET. Madam, and pretty mistresses give ear.
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes: for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.
PRINCESS. Will they return?
BOYET. They will they will, God knows,
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore change Favors, and when they repair,
Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer air.
PRINCESS. How blow? how blow? Speak to be understood.
BOYET. Fair ladies mask’d, are Roses in their bud:
Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blown.
PRINCESS. Avaunt perplexity, What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
ROSALINE. Good Madam, if by me you’ll be advised,
Let’s mock them still as well known as disguised.
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguis’d like Muscovites in shapeless gear:
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow shows, and Prologue vilely pend.
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our Tent to us.
BOYET. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
PRINCESS. Whip to our Tents as Roes run o’er land.
{Exeunt omnes.}

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Maskers/Masquers

The deceptive meaning of cog

The Bard

VERSE: Villanova Emends & Reads Shakespeare Edition

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