Love's Labour's Lost

but let that pass. The very all of all is- but, sweet heart,
I do
implore secrecy- that the King would have me present the
Princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or
show,
or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, understanding that
the
curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and
sudden
breaking-out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you
withal,
to the end to crave your assistance.
HOLOFERNES. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine
Worthies.
Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some
show in the posterior of this day, to be rend'red by our
assistance, the King's command, and this most gallant,
illustrate, and learned gentleman, before the Princess- I say
none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
NATHANIEL. Where will you find men worthy enough to present
them?
HOLOFERNES. Joshua, yourself; myself, Alexander; this gallant
gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great
limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page,
Hercules.
ARMADO. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that
Worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of his club.
HOLOFERNES. Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in
minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and
I
will have an apology for that purpose.
MOTH. An excellent device! So, if any of the audience hiss, you
may
cry 'Well done, Hercules; now thou crushest the snake!' That
is
the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the
grace to
do it.
ARMADO. For the rest of the Worthies?
HOLOFERNES. I will play three myself.
MOTH. Thrice-worthy gentleman!
ARMADO. Shall I tell you a thing?
HOLOFERNES. We attend.
ARMADO. We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech
you,
follow.
HOLOFERNES. Via, goodman Dull! Thou has spoken no word all this
while.
DULL. Nor understood none neither, sir.
HOLOFERNES. Allons! we will employ thee.
DULL. I'll make one in a dance, or so, or I will play
On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
HOLOFERNES. Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away.
Exeunt

SCENE II. The park

Enter the PRINCESS, MARIA, KATHARINE, and ROSALINE

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 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 OF FRANCE. Nothing but this! Yes, as much love in
rhyme
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper
Writ o' 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 year a boy.
KATHARINE. Ay, 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 a 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 i' th' 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? O, that's you care not for me.
ROSALINE. Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.'
PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Well bandied both; a set of wit well
play'd.
But, Rosaline, you have a favour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
ROSALINE. I would you knew.
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great: be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne;
The numbers true, and, were the numb'ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground.