Her beauty hath no match but my affection;
Hers more than most,mine most and more than more:Hers more to praise than tell the sea by drops,Nay,more than drop the massy earth by sands,And sand by sand print them in memory:
Then wherefore talkest thou of a period To that which craves unended admiration?
Read,let us hear.
LODOWICK.
'More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,'--KING EDWARD.
That line hath two faults,gross and palpable:
Comparest thou her to the pale queen of night,Who,being set in dark,seems therefore light?
What is she,when the sun lifts up his head,But like a fading taper,dim and dead?
My love shall brave the eye of heaven at noon,And,being unmasked,outshine the golden sun.
LODOWICK.
What is the other fault,my sovereign Lord?
KING EDWARD.
Read o'er the line again.
LODOWICK.
'More fair and chaste'--
KING EDWARD.
I did not bid thee talk of chastity,To ransack so the treasure of her mind;For I had rather have her chased than chaste.
Out with the moon line,I will none of it;
And let me have her likened to the sun:
Say she hath thrice more splendour than the sun,That her perfections emulate the sun,That she breeds sweets as plenteous as the sun,That she doth thaw cold winter like the sun,That she doth cheer fresh summer like the sun,The she doth dazzle gazers like the sun;And,in this application to the sun,Bid her be free and general as the sun,Who smiles upon the basest weed that grows As lovingly as on the fragrant rose.
Let's see what follows that same moonlight line.
LODOWICK.
'More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,More bold in constance'--KING EDWARD.
In constance!than who?
LODOWICK.
'Than Judith was.'
KING EDWARD.
O monstrous line!Put in the next a sword,And I shall woo her to cut of my head.
Blot,blot,good Lodowick!Let us hear the next.
LODOWICK.
There's all that yet is done.
KING EDWARD.
I thank thee then;thou hast done little ill,But what is done,is passing,passing ill.
No,let the Captain talk of boisterous war,The prisoner of emured dark constraint,The sick man best sets down the pangs of death,The man that starves the sweetness of a feast,The frozen soul the benefit of fire,And every grief his happy opposite:
Love cannot sound well but in lover's tongues;Give me the pen and paper,I will write.
[Enter Countess.]
But soft,here comes the treasurer of my spirit.--Lodowick,thou knowst not how to draw a battle;These wings,these flankers,and these squadrons Argue in thee defective discipline:
Thou shouldest have placed this here,this other here.
COUNTESS.
Pardon my boldness,my thrice gracious Lords;Let my intrusion here be called my duty,That comes to see my sovereign how he fares.
KING EDWARD.
Go,draw the same,I tell thee in what form.
LODOWICK.
I go.
[Exit Lodowick.]
COUNTESS.
Sorry I am to see my liege so sad:
What may thy subject do to drive from thee Thy gloomy consort,sullome melancholy?
KING EDWARD.
Ah,Lady,I am blunt and cannot straw The flowers of solace in a ground of shame:--Since I came hither,Countess,I am wronged.
COUNTESS.
Now God forbid that any in my house Should think my sovereign wrong!Thrice gentle King,Acquaint me with your cause of discontent.
KING EDWARD.
How near then shall I be to remedy?
COUNTESS.
As near,my Liege,as all my woman's power Can pawn it self to buy thy remedy.
KING EDWARD.
If thou speakst true,then have I my redress:
Engage thy power to redeem my Joys,And I am joyful,Countess;else I die.
COUNTESS.
I will,my Liege.
KING EDWARD.
Swear,Countess,that thou wilt.
COUNTESS.
By heaven,I will.
KING EDWARD.
Then take thy self a little way a side,And tell thy self,a King doth dote on thee;Say that within thy power it doth lie To make him happy,and that thou hast sworn To give him all the Joy within thy power:
Do this,and tell me when I shall be happy.
COUNTESS.
All this is done,my thrice dread sovereign:
That power of love,that I have power to give,Thou hast with all devout obedience;Employ me how thou wilt in proof thereof.
KING EDWARD.
Thou hearst me say that I do dote on thee.
COUNTESS.
If on my beauty,take it if thou canst;
Though little,I do prize it ten times less;
If on my virtue,take it if thou canst,For virtue's store by giving doth augment;Be it on what it will,that I can give And thou canst take away,inherit it.
KING EDWARD.
It is thy beauty that I would enjoy.
COUNTESS.
O,were it painted,I would wipe it off And dispossess my self,to give it thee.
But,sovereign,it is soldered to my life:
Take one and both;for,like an humble shadow,It haunts the sunshine of my summer's life.
KING EDWARD.
But thou maist lend it me to sport with all.
COUNTESS.
As easy may my intellectual soul Be lent away,and yet my body live,As lend my body,palace to my soul,Away from her,and yet retain my soul.
My body is her bower,her Court,her abbey,And she an Angel,pure,divine,unspotted:
If I should leave her house,my Lord,to thee,I kill my poor soul and my poor soul me.
KING EDWARD.
Didst thou not swear to give me what I would?
COUNTESS.
I did,my liege,so what you would I could.
KING EDWARD.
I wish no more of thee than thou maist give:--Nor beg I do not,but I rather buy--
That is,thy love;and for that love of thine In rich exchange I tender to thee mine.
COUNTESS.
But that your lips were sacred,my Lord,You would profane the holy name of love.
That love you offer me you cannot give,For Caesar owes that tribute to his Queen;That love you beg of me I cannot give,For Sara owes that duty to her Lord.
He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp Shall die,my Lord;and will your sacred self Commit high treason against the King of heaven,To stamp his Image in forbidden metal,Forgetting your allegiance and your oath?
In violating marriage sacred law,You break a greater honor than your self:
To be a King is of a younger house Than to be married;your progenitour,Sole reigning Adam on the universe,By God was honored for a married man,But not by him anointed for a king.
It is a penalty to break your statutes,Though not enacted with your highness'hand:
How much more,to infringe the holy act,Made by the mouth of God,sealed with his hand?
