Works    |    Last play                 ÆSOP SHAKESPEARE           Next play     |    Glossary
Created and designed by




Comedies

Love's Labours Lost
  • Last scene
  • Next scene
  • Complete play
  • ACT III SCENE I

    
     Dramatis Personae 
     Act I   Scene I 
     Act I   Scene II 
     Act II  Scene I 
     Act III Scene I 
     Act IV  Scene I  
     Act IV  Scene II 
     Act IV  Scene III 
     Act V   Scene I 
     Act V   Scene II 
     Complete play
    


     Act III 

    
    ACT III: SCENE I	The same.

    
    	Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO and MOTH
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
    
    MOTH	Concolinel.
    
    	Singing
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this key,
    	give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately
    	hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love.
    
    MOTH	Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	How meanest thou? brawling in French?
    
    MOTH	No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at
    	the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour
    	it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and
    	sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you
    	swallowed love with singing love, sometime through
    	the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling
    	love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of
    	your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly
    	doublet like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in
    	your pocket like a man after the old painting; and
    	keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away.
    	These are complements, these are humours; these
    	betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without
    	these; and make them men of note--do you note
    	me?--that most are affected to these.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	How hast thou purchased this experience?
    
    MOTH	By my penny of observation.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	But O,--but O,--
    
    MOTH	'The hobby-horse is forgot.'
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse'?
    
    MOTH	No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your
    	love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Almost I had.
    
    MOTH	Negligent student! learn her by heart.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	By heart and in heart, boy.
    
    MOTH	And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	What wilt thou prove?
    
    MOTH	A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon
    	the instant: by heart you love her, because your
    	heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her,
    	because your heart is in love with her; and out of
    	heart you love her, being out of heart that you
    	cannot enjoy her.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	I am all these three.
    
    MOTH	And three times as much more, and yet nothing at
    	all.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter.
    
    MOTH	A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador
    	for an ass.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Ha, ha! what sayest thou?
    
    MOTH	Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse,
    	for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	The way is but short: away!
    
    MOTH	As swift as lead, sir.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	The meaning, pretty ingenious?
    	Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
    
    MOTH	Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	I say lead is slow.
    
    MOTH	You are too swift, sir, to say so:
    	Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
    	He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
    	I shoot thee at the swain.
    
    MOTH	Thump then and I flee.
    
    	Exit
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace!
    	By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
    	Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
    	My herald is return'd.
    
    	Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD
    
    MOTH	A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy; begin.
    
    COSTARD	No enigma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the
    	mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no
    	l'envoy, no l'envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain!
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
    	thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes
    	me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars!
    	Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and
    	the word l'envoy for a salve?
    
    MOTH	Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain
    	Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
    	I will example it:
    	The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
    	Were still at odds, being but three.
    	There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.
    
    MOTH	I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	          The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
    	Were still at odds, being but three.
    
    MOTH	          Until the goose came out of door,
    	And stay'd the odds by adding four.
    	Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with
    	my l'envoy.
    	The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
    	Were still at odds, being but three.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	          Until the goose came out of door,
    	Staying the odds by adding four.
    
    MOTH	A good l'envoy, ending in the goose: would you
    	desire more?
    
    COSTARD	The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat.
    	Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.
    	To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose:
    	Let me see; a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
    
    MOTH	By saying that a costard was broken in a shin.
    	Then call'd you for the l'envoy.
    
    COSTARD	True, and I for a plantain: thus came your
    	argument in;
    	Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;
    	And he ended the market.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	But tell me; how was there a costard broken in a shin?
    
    MOTH	I will tell you sensibly.
    
    COSTARD	Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak that l'envoy:
    	I Costard, running out, that was safely within,
    	Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	We will talk no more of this matter.
    
    COSTARD	Till there be more matter in the shin.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
    
    COSTARD	O, marry me to one Frances: I smell some l'envoy,
    	some goose, in this.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty,
    	enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured,
    	restrained, captivated, bound.
    
    COSTARD	True, true; and now you will be my purgation and let me loose.
    
    DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO	I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and,
    	in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
    	bear this significant
    
    	Giving a letter
    
    		to the country maid Jaquenetta:
    	there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine
    	honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.
    
    	Exit
    
    MOTH	Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu.
    
    COSTARD	My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!
    
    	Exit MOTH
    
    	Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration!
    	O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three
    	farthings--remuneration.--'What's the price of this
    	inkle?'--'One penny.'--'No, I'll give you a
    	remuneration:' why, it carries it. Remuneration!
    	why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will
    	never buy and sell out of this word.
    
    	Enter BIRON
    
    BIRON	O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.
    
    COSTARD	Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man
    	buy for a remuneration?
    
    BIRON	What is a remuneration?
    
    COSTARD	Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.
    
    BIRON	Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk.
    
    COSTARD	I thank your worship: God be wi' you!
    
    BIRON	Stay, slave; I must employ thee:
    	As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
    	Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
    
    COSTARD	When would you have it done, sir?
    
    BIRON	This afternoon.
    
    COSTARD	Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.
    
    BIRON	Thou knowest not what it is.
    
    COSTARD	I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
    
    BIRON	Why, villain, thou must know first.
    
    COSTARD	I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.
    
    BIRON	It must be done this afternoon.
    	Hark, slave, it is but this:
    	The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
    	And in her train there is a gentle lady;
    	When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
    	And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;
    	And to her white hand see thou do commend
    	This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
    
    	Giving him a shilling
    
    COSTARD	Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration,
    	a'leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon! I
    	will do it sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration!
    
    	Exit
    
    BIRON	And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;
    	A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
    	A critic, nay, a night-watch constable;
    	A domineering pedant o'er the boy;
    	Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
    	This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
    	This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
    	Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
    	The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
    	Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
    	Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
    	Sole imperator and great general
    	Of trotting 'paritors:--O my little heart:--
    	And I to be a corporal of his field,
    	And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
    	What, I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
    	A woman, that is like a German clock,
    	Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
    	And never going aright, being a watch,
    	But being watch'd that it may still go right!
    	Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
    	And, among three, to love the worst of all;
    	A wightly wanton with a velvet brow,
    	With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
    	Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed
    	Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
    	And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
    	To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
    	That Cupid will impose for my neglect
    	Of his almighty dreadful little might.
    	Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan:
    	Some men must love my lady and some Joan.
    
    	Exit
    
    
    

    Last scene | This scene | All scenes in this play | Dramatis Personæ | Shakespeare's works | Next scene