Love's Labour's Lost by William Shakespeare
Act 1 - Scene 2
The same.
Don Adriano de Armado : Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit
[p]grows melancholy?
Moth : A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
Don Adriano de Armado : Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.
Moth : No, no; O Lord, sir, no.
Don Adriano de Armado : How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my
[p]tender juvenal?
Moth : By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.
Don Adriano de Armado : Why tough senior? why tough senior?
Moth : Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
Don Adriano de Armado : I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton
[p]appertaining
to thy young days, which we may
[p]nominate tender.
Moth : And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your
[p]old time,
which we may name tough.
Don Adriano de Armado : Pretty and apt.
Moth : How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or
[p]I apt, and my
saying pretty?
Don Adriano de Armado : Thou pretty, because little.
Moth : Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?
Don Adriano de Armado : And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth : Speak you this in my praise, master?
Don Adriano de Armado : In thy condign praise.
Moth : I will praise an eel with the same praise.
Don Adriano de Armado : What, that an eel is ingenious?
Moth : That an eel is quick.
Don Adriano de Armado : I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest my blood.
Moth : I am answered, sir.
Don Adriano de Armado : I love not to be crossed.
Moth : [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him.
Don Adriano de Armado : I have promised to study three years with the duke.
Moth : You may do it in an hour, sir.
Don Adriano de Armado : Impossible.
Moth : How many is one thrice told?
Don Adriano de Armado : I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.
Moth : You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.
Don Adriano de Armado : I confess both: they are both the varnish of a
[p]complete man.
Moth : Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of
[p]deuce-ace
amounts to.
Don Adriano de Armado : It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth : Which the base vulgar do call three.
Don Adriano de Armado : True.
Moth : Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here
[p]is three studied,
ere ye'll thrice wink: and how
[p]easy it is to put 'years' to the
word 'three,' and
[p]study three years in two words, the dancing
horse
[p]will tell you.
Don Adriano de Armado : A most fine figure!
Moth : To prove you a cipher.
Don Adriano de Armado : I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is
[p]base for a
soldier to love, so am I in love with a
[p]base wench. If drawing my
sword against the humour
[p]of affection would deliver me from the
reprobate
[p]thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner,
and
[p]ransom him to any French courtier for a
new-devised
[p]courtesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I
should
[p]outswear Cupid. Comfort, me, boy: what great men
[p]have
been in love?
Moth : Hercules, master.
Don Adriano de Armado : Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name
[p]more; and,
sweet my child, let them be men of good
[p]repute and carriage.
Moth : Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great
[p]carriage, for
he carried the town-gates on his back
[p]like a porter: and he was in
love.
Don Adriano de Armado : O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do
[p]excel thee in my
rapier as much as thou didst me in
[p]carrying gates. I am in love
too. Who was Samson's
[p]love, my dear Moth?
Moth : A woman, master.
Don Adriano de Armado : Of what complexion?
Moth : Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
Don Adriano de Armado : Tell me precisely of what complexion.
Moth : Of the sea-water green, sir.
Don Adriano de Armado : Is that one of the four complexions?
Moth : As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.
Don Adriano de Armado : Green indeed is the colour of lovers; but to have a
[p]love of that
colour, methinks Samson had small reason
[p]for it. He surely affected
her for her wit.
Moth : It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.
Don Adriano de Armado : My love is most immaculate white and red.
Moth : Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under
[p]such colours.
Don Adriano de Armado : Define, define, well-educated infant.
Moth : My father's wit and my mother's tongue, assist me!
Don Adriano de Armado : Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and
[p]pathetical!
Moth : If she be made of white and red,
[p]Her faults will ne'er be
known,
[p]For blushing cheeks by faults are bred
[p]And fears by pale
white shown:
[p]Then if she fear, or be to blame,
[p]By this you shall
not know,
[p]For still her cheeks possess the same
[p]Which native she
doth owe.
[p]A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of
[p]white
and red.
Don Adriano de Armado : Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?
Moth : The world was very guilty of such a ballad some
[p]three ages since:
but I think now 'tis not to be
[p]found; or, if it were, it would
neither serve for
[p]the writing nor the tune.
Don Adriano de Armado : I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may
[p]example my
digression by some mighty precedent.
[p]Boy, I do love that country
girl that I took in the
[p]park with the rational hind Costard: she
deserves well.
Moth : [Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better love than
[p]my master.
Don Adriano de Armado : Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth : And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
Don Adriano de Armado : I say, sing.
Moth : Forbear till this company be past.
Dull : Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard
[p]safe: and you
must suffer him to take no delight
[p]nor no penance; but a' must fast
three days a week.
[p]For this damsel, I must keep her at the park:
she
[p]is allowed for the day-woman. Fare you well.
Don Adriano de Armado : I do betray myself with blushing. Maid!
Jaquenetta : Man?
Don Adriano de Armado : I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaquenetta : That's hereby.
Don Adriano de Armado : I know where it is situate.
Jaquenetta : Lord, how wise you are!
Don Adriano de Armado : I will tell thee wonders.
Jaquenetta : With that face?
Don Adriano de Armado : I love thee.
Jaquenetta : So I heard you say.
Don Adriano de Armado : And so, farewell.
Jaquenetta : Fair weather after you!
Dull : Come, Jaquenetta, away!
Don Adriano de Armado : Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou
[p]be pardoned.
Costard : Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a
[p]full stomach.
Don Adriano de Armado : Thou shalt be heavily punished.
Costard : I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they
[p]are but lightly
rewarded.
Don Adriano de Armado : Take away this villain; shut him up.
Moth : Come, you transgressing slave; away!
Costard : Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast, being loose.
Moth : No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison.
Costard : Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation
[p]that I have
seen, some shall see.
Moth : What shall some see?
Costard : Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon.
[p]It is not for
prisoners to be too silent in their
[p]words; and therefore I will say
nothing: I thank
[p]God I have as little patience as another man;
and
[p]therefore I can be quiet.
Don Adriano de Armado : I do affect the very ground, which is base, where
[p]her shoe, which
is baser, guided by her foot, which
[p]is basest, doth tread. I shall
be forsworn, which
[p]is a great argument of falsehood, if I love.
And
[p]how can that be true love which is falsely
[p]attempted? Love
is a familiar; Love is a devil:
[p]there is no evil angel but Love.
Yet was Samson so
[p]tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet
was
[p]Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit.
[p]Cupid's
butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club;
[p]and therefore too much
odds for a Spaniard's rapier.
[p]The first and second cause will not
serve my turn;
[p]the passado he respects not, the duello he
regards
[p]not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his
[p]glory is
to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust rapier!
[p]be still, drum! for your
manager is in love; yea,
[p]he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god
of rhyme,
[p]for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit;
[p]write,
pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.
Previous: Act 1 - Scene 1
Next: Act 2 - Scene 1
