Speeches (Lines) for Don Adriano de Armado in "Love's Labour's Lost"

Costard. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was
taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true
girl; and therefore welcome the sour cup of
prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and
till then, sit thee down, sorrow!

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.

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.

Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away!

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.

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.

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.

Boyet. You are too hard for me.

Don Adriano de Armado. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

Moth. Concolinel.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

Holofernes. Video, et gaudeo.

Don Adriano de Armado. Chirrah!

Holofernes. Quare chirrah, not sirrah?

Don Adriano de Armado. Men of peace, well encountered.

Moth. Peace! the peal begins.

Don Adriano de Armado. [To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lettered?

Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it,--o, u.

Don Adriano de Armado. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet
touch, a quick venue of wit! snip, snap, quick and
home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!

Holofernes. O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.

Don Adriano de Armado. Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singled from the
barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the
charge-house on the top of the mountain?

Holofernes. Or mons, the hill.

Don Adriano de Armado. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.

Holofernes. I do, sans question.

Don Adriano de Armado. Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and
affection to congratulate the princess at her
pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the
rude multitude call the afternoon.

Holofernes. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is
liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon:
the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do
assure you, sir, I do assure.

Don Adriano de Armado. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar,
I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is
inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee,
remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy
head: and among other important and most serious
designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let
that pass: for I must tell thee, it will please his
grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor
shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally
with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet
heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no
fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his
greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of
travel, that hath seen the world; 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
antique, 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. Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman,
Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great
limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the
page, Hercules,--

Don Adriano de 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.

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.

Don Adriano de Armado. For the rest of the Worthies?--

Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!

Don Adriano de Armado. Shall I tell you a thing?

Holofernes. We attend.

Don Adriano de Armado. We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I
beseech you, follow.

Berowne. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Don Adriano de Armado. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal
sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

Princess of France. He speaks not like a man of God's making.

Don Adriano de Armado. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for,
I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding
fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we
will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra.
I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

Dumain. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

Don Adriano de Armado. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,--

Dumain. No, cloven.

Don Adriano de Armado. Peace!--
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,--

Longaville. That columbine.

Don Adriano de Armado. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Dumain. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

Don Adriano de Armado. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks,
beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed,
he was a man. But I will forward with my device.
[To the PRINCESS]
Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Princess of France. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

Don Adriano de Armado. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.

Dumain. [Aside to BOYET] He may not by the yard.

Don Adriano de Armado. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,--

Costard. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she
is two months on her way.

Don Adriano de Armado. What meanest thou?

Costard. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor
wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in
her belly already: tis yours.

Don Adriano de Armado. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt
die.

Berowne. Ay, if a' have no man's blood in's belly than will
sup a flea.

Don Adriano de Armado. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

Moth. Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you
not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean
you? You will lose your reputation.

Don Adriano de Armado. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat
in my shirt.

Dumain. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

Don Adriano de Armado. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Berowne. What reason have you for't?

Don Adriano de Armado. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go
woolward for penance.

Berowne. Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud.

Don Adriano de Armado. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have
seen the day of wrong through the little hole of
discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.

Berowne. That's too long for a play.

Don Adriano de Armado. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,--

Dumain. The worthy knight of Troy.

Don Adriano de Armado. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am
a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the
plough for her sweet love three years. But, most
esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that
the two learned men have compiled in praise of the
owl and the cuckoo? It should have followed in the
end of our show.

Ferdinand. Call them forth quickly; we will do so.

Don Adriano de Armado. Holla! approach.
[Re-enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD,]
and others]
This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring;
the one maintained by the owl, the other by the
cuckoo. Ver, begin.
[THE SONG]
SPRING.
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he, . Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he, . Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
WINTER.
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, . Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow
And coughing drowns the parson's saw
And birds sit brooding in the snow
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, . Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Don Adriano de Armado. Holla! approach.
[Re-enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD,]
and others]
This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring;
the one maintained by the owl, the other by the
cuckoo. Ver, begin.
[THE SONG]
SPRING.
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he, . Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he, . Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
WINTER.
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, . Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow
And coughing drowns the parson's saw
And birds sit brooding in the snow
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, . Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Don Adriano de Armado. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of
Apollo. You that way: we this way.