Chapter: ACT II. SCENE I.

The King of Navarre's park. A pavilion and tents at a
distance.

[Enter the PRINCESS OF FRANCE, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET,
LORDS, and other Attendants.]

BOYET.
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits:
Consider who the king your father sends,
To whom he sends, and what's his embassy:
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the sole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace
As Nature was in making graces dear
When she did starve the general world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.

PRINCESS.
Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utt'red by base sale of chapmen's tongues.
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall outwear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
Tell him the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his Grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.

BOYET.
Proud of employment, willingly I go.

PRINCESS.
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.

[Exit BOYET.]

Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?

FIRST LORD.
Lord Longaville is one.

PRINCESS.
Know you the man?

MARIA.
I know him, madam: at a marriage feast,
Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville.
A man of sovereign parts, he is esteem'd,
Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,--
If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,--
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should none spare that come within his power.

PRINCESS.
Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?

MARIA.
They say so most that most his humours know.

PRINCESS.
Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?

KATHARINE.
The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth,
Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd;
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill,
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though he had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once;
And much too little of that good I saw
Is my report to his great worthiness.

ROSALINE.
Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth:
Berowne they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

PRINCESS.
God bless my ladies! Are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

FIRST LORD.
Here comes Boyet.

[Re-enter BOYET.]

PRINCESS.
Now, what admittance, lord?

BOYET.
Navarre had notice of your fair approach,
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt;
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeeled house.
Here comes Navarre.

[The LADIES mask.]

[Enter KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAINE, BEROWNE, and ATTENDANTS.]

KING.
Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.

PRINCESS.
'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have not yet: the
roof of this court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the
wide fields too base to be mine.

KING.
You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.

PRINCESS.
I will be welcome then: conduct me thither.

KING.
Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.

PRINCESS.
Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.

KING.
Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.

PRINCESS.
Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.

KING.
Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.

PRINCESS.
Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your Grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me, I am too sudden bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

[Gives a paper.]

KING.
Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.

PRINCESS.
You will the sooner that I were away,
For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me stay.

BEROWNE.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

ROSALINE.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

BEROWNE.
I know you did.

ROSALINE.
How needless was it then
To ask the question!

BEROWNE.
You must not be so quick.

ROSALINE.
'Tis long of you, that spur me with such questions.

BEROWNE.
Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.

ROSALINE.
Not till it leave the rider in the mire.

BEROWNE.
What time o' day?

ROSALINE.
The hour that fools should ask.

BEROWNE.
Now fair befall your mask!

ROSALINE.
Fair fall the face it covers!

BEROWNE.
And send you many lovers!

ROSALINE.
Amen, so you be none.

BEROWNE.
Nay, then will I be gone.

KING.
Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he or we,--as neither have,--
Receiv'd that sum, yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If then the King your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitaine;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast,
And go well satisfied to France again.

PRINCESS.
You do the king my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.

KING.
I do protest I never heard of it;
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back
Or yield up Aquitaine.

PRINCESS.
We arrest your word.
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum from special officers
Of Charles his father.

KING.
Satisfy me so.

BOYET.
So please your Grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other specialties are bound:
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

KING.
It shall suffice me; at which interview
All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Meantime receive such welcome at my hand
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow shall we visit you again.

PRINCESS.
Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace!

KING.
Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.

[Exeunt KING and his Train.]

BEROWNE.
Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.

ROSALINE.
Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

BEROWNE.
I would you heard it groan.

ROSALINE.
Is the fool sick?

BEROWNE.
Sick at the heart.

ROSALINE.
Alack! let it blood.

BEROWNE.
Would that do it good?

ROSALINE.
My physic says 'ay.'

BEROWNE.
Will you prick't with your eye?

ROSALINE.
No point, with my knife.

BEROWNE.
Now, God save thy life!

ROSALINE.
And yours from long living!

BEROWNE.
I cannot stay thanksgiving.

[Retiring.]

DUMAINE.
Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same?

BOYET.
The heir of Alencon, Katharine her name.

DUMAINE.
A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.

[Exit.]

LONGAVILLE.
I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?

BOYET.
A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.

LONGAVILLE.
Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.

BOYET.
She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.

LONGAVILLE.
Pray you, sir, whose daughter?

BOYET.
Her mother's, I have heard.

LONGAVILLE.
God's blessing on your beard!

BOYET.
Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.

LONGAVILLE.
Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.

BOYET.
Not unlike, sir; that may be.

[Exit LONGAVILLE.]

BEROWNE.
What's her name in the cap?

BOYET.
Rosaline, by good hap.

BEROWNE.
Is she wedded or no?

BOYET.
To her will, sir, or so.

BEROWNE.
You are welcome, sir. Adieu!

BOYET.
Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit BEROWNE.--LADIES unmask.]

MARIA.
That last is Berowne, the merry mad-cap lord;
Not a word with him but a jest.

BOYET.
And every jest but a word.

PRINCESS.
It was well done of you to take him at his word.

BOYET.
I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.

MARIA.
Two hot sheeps, marry!

BOYET.
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.

MARIA.
You sheep and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?

BOYET.
So you grant pasture for me.

[Offering to kiss her.]

MARIA.
Not so, gentle beast.
My lips are no common, though several they be.

BOYET.
Belonging to whom?

MARIA.
To my fortunes and me.

PRINCESS.
Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree;
This civil war of wits were much better us'd
On Navarre and his book-men, for here 'tis abus'd.

BOYET.
If my observation,--which very seldom lies,
By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

PRINCESS.
With what?

BOYET.
With that which we lovers entitle affected.

PRINCESS.
Your reason.

BOYET.
Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire;
His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd;
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair.
Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tend'ring their own worth from where they were glass'd,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

PRINCESS.
Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd.

BOYET.
But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd.
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

ROSALINE.
Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.

MARIA.
He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.

ROSALINE.
Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.

BOYET.
Do you hear, my mad wenches?

MARIA.
No.

BOYET.
What, then, do you see?

ROSALINE.
Ay, our way to be gone.

BOYET.
You are too hard for me.

[Exeunt.]

 A formal grouping of the Princess of France with three attendant lords and three ladies takes the stage. The nobleman Boyet sings the Princess's praises , while he urges her to represent her father's interest well to "Matchless Navarre." The King of France still owes 100,000 crowns to Navarre in repayment for money spent by the latter's father in the wars. As equity for the loan, Navarre keeps one part of Aquitaine. He later explains: If then the King your father will restoreBut that one half which is unsatisfied,We will give up our right in Aquitaine,And hold fair friendship with his majesty. But before Navarre arrives on the scene, we are given an insight into the Princess's spirited character. She bids Boyet to forego his flattery: Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,Needs not the painted flourish of your praise.Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,Not utt'red by base sale of chapmen's tongues. She knows of Navarre's "three year vow," and therefore she bids Boyet to intercede for her. At Boyet's exit, the Princess turns to her ladies and asks sarcastically about Navarre's companions. Who are the votaries , my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? In turn, the women answer, each naming the nobleman who struck her eye when last they met: Maria remembers Longaville, "a man of sovereign parts" who also has "too blunt a will"; Katherine mentions Dumain, "a well-accomplished youth"; and Rosaline says that when Biron speaks, "younger hearings are quite ravished." The Princess is astonished: "God bless my ladies! Are they all in love?" Boyet interrupts the talk by returning to announce that Navarre means to lodge you in the field" rather than break his vow. The ladies don masks as Navarre, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville enter. The Princess's sharp tongue takes Navarre by surprise: King: Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.Princess: "Fair' I give you back again; and "welcome!'I have not yet. The roof of this court is toohigh to be yours, and welcome to the widefields too base to be mine. Biron and Rosaline echo the playfully hostile exchange of their superiors: Biron: What time o' day?Rosaline: The hour that fools should ask.Biron: Now fair befall your mask.Rosaline: Fair fall the face it covers!Biron: And send you many lovers!Rosaline: Amen, so you be none.Biron: Nay, then will I be gone. Dumain asks Boyet about Katherine and Longaville about Maria before they depart. The Princess interrupts a testy exchange between Katherine and Boyet to admonish them: "This civil war of wits were much better used/On Navarre and his book-men, for here 'tis abused." The scene draws to a close with sixteen lines of rhymed couplets in which Boyet interprets Navarre's loving looks -- "all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes -- as proof that the princess will most likely be able to recover Aquitaine for the price of a kiss. Shakespeare draws the lines for his love comedy with perfect symmetry in this scene. The battle of the sexes will be a battle of wits, matching the Princess and her three ladies against Navarre and his three lords. At this juncture, Boyet functions as a go-between and commentator. Both the Princess and Rosaline speak with the verve and tough beauty of Shakespeare's heroines in such more mature plays as As You Like It and Twelfth Night. That the Princess disarms Navarre in this scene is more than possible, if Boyet can be believed. Part of the fun in the comedy derives from showing the mastermind of the "three years' abstinence" idea as falling in love at first sight. On stage, with a good actor, this could be made clear easily enough and would not need be broadcast to the audience. Navarre's broken lines when speaking to the Princess indicate some hesitation in his speech. And the Princess describes herself as "too sudden-bold," as if she noticed him being schoolboyish in his dealing with her. The King does become quite efficient when talking business , but one wonders if there is more than mere formality in his words when he tells her upon parting that "you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart." Any attraction Navarre does feel, of course, he would also be desperate to hide from his fellow "votaries." It is perfectly obvious that each of them, in turn, is already infatuated with his female counterpart, and vice-versa. From this point on, it appears that "love's labour" will not really be "lost . Notice the style of language in this scene. Boyet's request at the start of the scene that the Princess show herself to the best possible advantage is typically elegant: Be now as prodigal of all dear grace,As Nature was in making graces dearWhen she did starve the general world besideAnd prodigally gave them all to you. There does come a point, however, at which the rhyme used in the scene grows tedious. Even if Shakespeare meant thereby to make a comment on the character speaking, as in the following, there remains a problem for modern audiences. Boyet finishes his speech on Navarre's self-betraying looks thus: His face's own margent did quote such amazesThat all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,And you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. The Princess dismisses him: "Come to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed." Moth sings a "sweet air" for Armado, then gives him advice on how to secure his love -- through song, dance, face -- pulling, and rhetorical devices. The conversation meanders here and there at the whim of the clever Moth, causing Armado to remark on his "sweet smoke of rhetoric." Moth fetches Costard at his master's behest, and the nonsensical language games now include the newcomer. Even Costard can see that Moth is making a fool of his master, "The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose." Moth: Now will I begin your moral, and do youfollow with my l'envoy.The fox, the ape, and the humblebeeWere still at odds, being but three.Armado: Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.Moth: A good Fenvoy, ending in the goose. Armado, of course, is the "goose" who ends the ditty. Costard is twice bid to become a postman, to deliver a love letter from Armado to Jaquenetta , and to deliver a note from Biron to Rosaline ). Making his exit, he exclaims: Gardon, O sweet gardon! Better than remuneration -- a'levenpence farthing better. Most sweet gardon!I will do it sir, in print . Gardon!Remuneration! To cap the scene, Shakespeare radically shifts to a loftier style in the person of Biron, who delivers a thirty-three-line soliloquy expressing the quandary in which he finds himself. It begins: "O, and I, forsooth, in love!" The broad contrasts which characterize the structure of Love's Labour's Lost are apparent at the beginning and the end of this scene. Armado is a braggart and a fool in love, a caricature of the transformations which can take place when a man is prey to his passions. The first moments of the scene are broadly comical, commencing as Moth sings a sweet tune to suit the master's mood , then going on to include a demonstration by Moth of the ways to woo a woman. Though there are no stage directions, it seems likely that Moth would at least illustrate some of the physical techniques he describes: "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. . . ." The same comical teaching takes place in a parallel scene with Toby Belch, Maria, and Andrew Aguecheek in Twelfth Night . At the other end of the spectrum, and the scene, is the nobleman Biron, also in love, wrestling with his feelings in a far more dignified manner. Love is transforming him as well: I, that have been love's whip,A very beadle to a humorous sigh,A critic, nay, a night-watch constable. . . .And I to be a corporal of his field,And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!What? I love? I sue? I seek a wife! But there is a rightness in this change, it turns out, for the world of Shakespeare's happy comedy demands the triumph of love over artificial barriers. The two love letters to be delivered by the utter, literal fool, Costard, are bound to be mixed up. Shakespeare stirs the action and excites the audience's expectation by this device. Notice, however, how relatively unimportant this sort of detail is in Love's Labour's Lost by comparison to Comedy of Errors. The life of the later comedy is less in its plot than in its language, and to a certain extent, its character. The Princess and her retinue are in an open park preparing for a hunt. "But come, the bow!" she calls, after seeing a rider in the distance and asking: Was the King, that spurred his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill? She engages the Forester in conversation, displaying her intellectual superiority with puns and clever turns of phrase before rewarding him with money. After a lengthy speech on the pursuit of fame, she says, And, out of question, so it is sometimes,Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,We bend to that the working of the heart;As I for praise alone now seek to spillThe poor deer's blood that my heart means no ill. and the Princess then turns her attention to Costard, who has just entered with a letter which, he says, is addressed from Monsieur Biron to Lady Rosaline. "O, thy letter, thy letter! He's a good friend of mine," she exclaims boldly, requesting Boyet to read the missive at once. The letter is, in fact, from Armado to Jaquenetta, written in the most bizarre meandering style: Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? Icould. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shall thouexchange for rags? Robes. For tittles? Titles. For thyself? Me.Thus, expecting thy reply, I propose my lips on thy foot, myeyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. "What plume of feathers is that indited this letter? asks the Princess. She tells Costard that he has misdelivered the letter, then exits with all but Boyet, Maria, Rosaline, and Costard. Boyet teases Rosaline, who responds in sharp form. It is Maria's turn next to banter with Boyet over the affair. As their speech grows more and more bawdy, Costard chimes in with an obviously obscene remark, causing Maria to say, "Come, come, you talk greasily." Costard has enjoyed the chatter immensely, convinced that he and the ladies have "put him down." He loves the ,'most sweet jests, most incony vulgar wit."

