Document:  All > Shakespeare > Comedies > Love's Labour's Lost > Act I, scene II

Jump to: the first appearance of define or a list of all documents containing define




	[Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO and MOTH]

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit
	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
	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
	appertaining to thy young days, which we may
	nominate tender.

MOTH: And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your
	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
	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
	complete man.

MOTH: Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of
	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
	is three studied, ere ye'll thrice wink: and how
	easy it is to put 'years' to the word 'three,' and
	study three years in two words, the dancing horse
	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
	base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a
	base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour
	of affection would deliver me from the reprobate
	thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and
	ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised
	courtesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I should
	outswear Cupid. Comfort, me, boy: what great men
	have been in love?

MOTH: Hercules, master.

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name
	more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good
	repute and carriage.

MOTH: Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great
	carriage, for he carried the town-gates on his back
	like a porter: and he was in love.

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do
	excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in
	carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson's
	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
	love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason
	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
	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
	pathetical!

MOTH:      If she be made of white and red,
	Her faults will ne'er be known,
	For blushing cheeks by faults are bred
	And fears by pale white shown:
	Then if she fear, or be to blame,
	By this you shall not know,
	For still her cheeks possess the same
	Which native she doth owe.
	A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of
	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
	three ages since: but I think now 'tis not to be
	found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for
	the writing nor the tune.

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may
	example my digression by some mighty precedent.
	Boy, I do love that country girl that I took in the
	park with the rational hind Costard: she deserves well.

MOTH: [Aside]  To be whipped; and yet a better love than
	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.

	[Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA]

DULL: Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard
	safe: and you must suffer him to take no delight
	nor no penance; but a' must fast three days a week.
	For this damsel, I must keep her at the park: she
	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!

	[Exeunt DULL and JAQUENETTA]

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou
	be pardoned.

COSTARD: Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a
	full stomach.

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: Thou shalt be heavily punished.

COSTARD: I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they
	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
	that I have seen, some shall see.

MOTH: What shall some see?

COSTARD: Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon.
	It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their
	words; and therefore I will say nothing: I thank
	God I have as little patience as another man; and
	therefore I can be quiet.

	[Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD]

DON
ADRIANO DE ARMADO: I do affect the very ground, which is base, where
	her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which
	is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which
	is a great argument of falsehood, if I love. And
	how can that be true love which is falsely
	attempted? Love is a familiar; Love is a devil:
	there is no evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson so
	tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was
	Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit.
	Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club;
	and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier.
	The first and second cause will not serve my turn;
	the passado he respects not, the duello he regards
	not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his
	glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust rapier!
	be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea,
	he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme,
	for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit;
	write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.

	[Exit]




	LOVE'S LABOURS LOST






Search for this word      in all documents   just this document

What do you think? Grade this document:  


(Average grade so far: B, 6 graders.)

Need writing help? Try RhymeZone's rhyming dictionary and thesaurus features

Help  Advanced  Feedback  Android  iPhone/iPad  API  Blog  Privacy

Copyright © 2018 Datamuse