They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see.
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
Peace! for I will not have to do with you.
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.
Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.
The fairest is confession.
Were not you here but even now disguised?
Madam, I was.
And were you well advised?
I was, fair madam.
When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?
That more than all the world I did respect her.
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
Upon mine honour, no.
Peace, peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear
As precious eyesight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto moreover
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth unhold his word.
What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
My faith and this the princess I did give:
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.
What, will you have me, or your pearl again?
Neither of either; I remit both twain.
I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,
Told our intents before; which once disclosed,
The ladies did change favours: and then we,
Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn, in will and error.
Much upon this it is: and might not you To Boyet.
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye
Wounds like a leaden sword.
Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
O Lord, sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
What, are there but three?
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
And three times thrice is nine.
Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know:
I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir—
We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. Exit.
Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.
We are shame-proof, my lord: and ’tis some policy
To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.
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.
A right description of our sport, my lord.
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.
There is five in the first show.
You are deceived; ’tis not so.
The pedant, the braggart,