Excerpt from Love's Labour's Lost - anthology. King Ferdinand of Navarre and his companions, the lords Berowne, Longaville, and Dumaine, have sworn a vow, at the king's suggestion, that they will forego the society of women and the pleasures of love for three years, in order to devote themselves to study. A pre-arranged state visit from the Princess of France and her ladies, forgotten by the king, forces them to revise the terms of their vow to allow for the necessity of meeting with the women, and soon all four men are in love. As befits the courtly setting and the scholarly aims of the young men, the language and wit of Love's Labour's Lost are sophisticated and refined, but despite the literary atmosphere of the play, the comic possibilities of the stage are not neglected. In Act IV, Scene 3, Berowne--the only one of the lords to have protested at the impossibility of maintaining the vow--is attempting to write a sonnet to his beloved, when he is disturbed by the arrival of the king and forced to hide. From his vantage point he spies on the other men, as one by one they enter to reveal--to both the on- and off-stage audiences--their own lovestruck attempts at poetry. Through the style of the young men's verses Shakespeare parodies the poetic fashions of the day for images of hunting and melancholy, but it is the structure of the scene that provides the greatest humour. The multiple eavesdropping is exquisitely executed, and as each man emerges to berate the others for breaking their vow, the audience has the pleasure of knowing that Berowne, too, is forsworn, and likely soon to be discovered. While Berowne is in the middle of a self-confident assault on his companions' treacherous promise-breaking, Costard and Jaquenetta make a perfectly timed entrance with an incriminating letter. Love's Labour's Lost Act IV, Scene 3 Enter Berowne with a paper in his hand, alone BEROWNE. (reading) "The King he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself--" They have pitched a toil; I am toiling 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 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! He stands aside Enter the King with a paper KING. Ay me! BEROWNE. Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid. Thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets! KING. (reading) "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 shinest 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 will 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? He stands aside Enter Longaville with several papers 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 perjured so? BEROWNE. I could put thee in comfort--not by two that I know. Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of Love's Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity. LONGAVILLE. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move. (Reading) "O sweet Maria, empress of my love!"-- These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. He tears the paper BEROWNE. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose; Disfigure not his shop. LONGAVILLE. (taking another paper) This same shall go: (Reading) "Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore, but I will prove-- Thou being a goddess--I forswore not thee. My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Thy grace, being gained, cures all disgrace in me. Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is; Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is. If broken, then, it is no fault of mine; If by me broke, what fool is not so wise To lose an oath to win a paradise?" BEROWNE. This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess. Pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! We are much out o'th'way. Enter Dumaine with a paper LONGAVILLE. By whom shall I send this?--Company? Stay. He stands aside BEROWNE. All hid, all hid--an old infant play. Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish! Dumaine transformed! Four woodcocks in a dish! DUMAINE. O most divine Kate! BEROWNE. O most profane coxcomb! DUMAINE. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye! BEROWNE. By earth, she is not, corporal. There you lie! DUMAINE. Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted. BEROWNE. An amber-coloured raven was well noted. DUMAINE. As upright as the cedar. BEROWNE. Stoop, I say! Her shoulder is with child. DUMAINE. As fair as day. BEROWNE. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. DUMAINE. O that I had my wish! LONGAVILLE. And I had mine! KING. And I mine too, good Lord! BEROWNE. Amen, so I had mine! Is not that a good word? DUMAINE. I would forget her, but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remembered be. BEROWNE. A fever in your blood? Why, then incision Would let her out in saucers. Sweet misprision! DUMAINE. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. BEROWNE. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. DUMAINE. (reading) "On a day--alack the day!-- Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air. Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wished himself the heaven's breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn. Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were, And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love." This will I send, and something else more plain, That shall express my true love's fasting pain. O, would the King, Berowne, and Longaville Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note, For none offend where all alike do dote. LONGAVILLE. (advancing) Dumaine, thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desirest society. You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, To be o'erheard and taken napping so. KING. (advancing) Come, sir, you blush! As his your case is such; You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not love Maria! Longaville Did never sonnet for her sake compile, Nor never lay his wreathèd arms athwart His loving bosom to keep down his heart. I have been closely shrouded in this bush And marked you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion, Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion. "Ay me!" says one; "O Jove!" the other cries. One, her hairs were gold; crystal the other's eyes, (To Longaville) You would for paradise break faith and troth; (To Dumaine) And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. What will Berowne say when that he shall hear Faith infringèd, which such zeal did swear? How will he scorn, how will he spend his wit! How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it! For all the wealth that ever I did see, I would not have him know so much by me. BEROWNE. (advancing) Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me. Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These worms for loving, that art most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears There is no certain princess that appears; You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing; Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting! But are you not ashamed? Nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? You found his mote, the King your mote did see; But I a beam do find in each of three. O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen! O me, with what strict patience have I sat, To see a king transformèd to a gnat! To see great Hercules whipping a gig, And profound Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief? O, tell me, good Dumaine. And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege's? All about the breast. A caudle, ho! KING. Too bitter is thy jest. Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view? BEROWNE. Not you to me, but I betrayed by you; I that am honest, I that hold it sin To break the vow I am engagèd in, I am betrayed by keeping company With men like you, men of inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for Joan? Or spend a minute's time In pruning me? When shall you hear that I Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb-- KING. Soft! Whither away so fast? A true man or a thief that gallops so? BEROWNE. I post from love. Good lover, let me go. Enter Jaquenetta with a letter, and Costard JAQUENETTA. God bless the King! KING. What present hast thou there? COSTARD. Some certain treason. KING. What makes treason here? COSTARD. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. KING. If it mar nothing neither, The treason and you go in peace away together. JAQUENETTA. I beseech your grace let this letter be read. Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. KING. Berowne, read it over. Berowne reads the letter Where hadst thou it? JAQUENETTA. Of Costard. KING. Where hadst thou it? COSTARD. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. Berowne tears the letter KING. How now, what is in you? Why dost thou tear it? BEROWNE. A toy, my liege, a toy. Your grace needs not fear it. LONGAVILLE. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it. DUMAINE. (gathering up the pieces) It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name. BEROWNE. (to Costard) Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame! Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess! KING. What? BEROWNE. That you three fools lacked me fool to make up the mess. He, he, and you--and you, my liege!--and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. DUMAINE. Now the number is even. BEROWNE. True, true, we are four. Will these turtles be gone? KING. Hence, sirs, away! COSTARD. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta BEROWNE. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! As true we are as flesh and blood can be. The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood doth not obey an old decree. We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. KING. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? BEROWNE. "Did they?" quoth you! Who sees the heavenly Rosaline That, like a rude and savage man of Inde At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow That is not blinded by her majesty? KING. What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. BEROWNE. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the culled sovereignty Do meet as at a fair in her fair cheek, Where several worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues-- Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not! To things of sale a seller's praise belongs: She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. A withered hermit, five-score winters worn, Mght shake off fifty, looking in her eye. Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. O, 'tis the sun that makes all things shine! KING. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony! BEROWNE. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! A wife of such wood were felicity. O, who can give an oath? Where is a book? That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack If that she learn not of her eye to look. No face is fair that is not full so black. KING. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the school of night; And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. BEROWNE Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady's brows be decked, It mourns that painting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect; And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days, For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. DUMAINE. To look like her are chimney-sweepers black. LONGAVILLE. And since her time are colliers counted bright. KING. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. DUMAINE. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. BEROWNE. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colours should be washed away. KING. 'Twere good yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, I'll find a fairer face not washed today. BEROWNE. I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here. KING. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. DUMAINE. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. LONGAVILLE. Look, here's thy love (showing his shoe); my foot and her face see. BEROWNE. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. DUMAINE. O, vile! Then, as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walked overhead. KING. But what of this? Are we not all in love? BEROWNE. O, nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn. KING. Then leave this chat, and, good Berowne, now prove Our loving lawful and our faith not torn. DUMAINE. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil! LONGAVILLE. O, some authority how to proceed! Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil! DUMAINE. Some salve for perjury. BEROWNE. 'Tis more than need. Have at you then, affection's men-at-arms! Consider what you first did swear unto: To fast, to study, and to see no woman-- Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young, And abstinence engenders maladies. O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books; For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enriched you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain, And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil; But love, first learnèd in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immurèd in the brain, But with the motion of all elements Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye: A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound When the suspicious head of theft is stopped. Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails. Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. For valour, is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair. And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were tempered with Love's sighs. O, then his lines would ravish savage ears And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world; Else none at all in aught proves excellent. Then fools you were these women to forswear, Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love, Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men, Or for men's sake, the authors of these women, Or women's sake, by whom we men are men-- Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn, For charity itself fulfils the law, And who can sever love from charity? KING. Saint Cupid, then! And, soldiers, to the field! BEROWNE. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords! Pell-mell, down with them! But be first advised In conflict that you get the sun of them. LONGAVILLE. Now to plain-dealing. Lay these glosses by. Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? KING. And win them too! Therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents. BEROWNE. First from the park let us conduct them thither; Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masques, and merry hours Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. KING. Away, away! No time shall be omitted That will betime and may by us be fitted. BEROWNE. "Allons! Allons!" Exeunt King, Longaville, and Dumaine Sowed cockle reaped no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure. Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. Exit
