Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Was that the King who rode his horse so hard Up the steep slope of the hill?
Was that the King riding his horse like crazy Up that steep hill?
was that the king ridin so hard up the hill
I know not, but I think it was not he.
I don't know, but I think it wasn't him.
I'm not sure, but I don't think it was him.
idk but prob not him
Whoe’er he was, he showed a mounting mind.
Well, lords, today we shall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
Whoever he was, he showed an ambitious spirit. Well, lords, today we'll have our business settled; On Saturday we will return to France. Then, forester, my friend, where is the hunting ground Where we must stand and play the hunter?
Whoever he was, he was really eager. Well, lords, we're getting our work done today; On Saturday we're heading back to France. So, forester, my friend, where's the spot Where we're going to hunt?
whoever it was had drive lords done today back to france saturday wheres the hunting spot
Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice,
A stand where you may make “the fairest shoot”.
Right here, at the edge of that woodland, A place where you can make the most beautiful shot.
Right here, at the edge of that little forest, A spot where you can make an amazing shot.
right here by the woods sick shooting spot
I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoot.
I'm grateful for my beauty—I'm the fair one who shoots, And that's why you speak of the fairest shot.
Thanks for the compliment—I'm the beautiful shooter here, Which is why you're talking about such a great shot.
im the fair one shooting so u said that was good
Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Forgive me, madam, I didn't mean that.
Sorry, madam, I didn't mean it that way.
my bad didnt mean it
What, what? First praise me, and again say no?
O short-lived pride! Not fair? Alack for woe!
What, what? First you praise me, and then say no? Oh, fleeting pride! Not beautiful? Oh, what sadness!
What? You praise me first, then take it back? Oh, my brief moment of confidence! Not beautiful? This is awful!
u praised me then said no? ugh my pride was short-lived im not fair?? this sucks
Yes, madam, fair.
Yes, madam, you are fair.
Yes, madam, you're beautiful.
yes you r beautiful
Nay, never paint me now.
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
No, don't flatter me now. Where beauty doesn't exist, praise can't fix the face. Here, good mirror, take this coin for being honest:
No, stop making excuses for me now. Where there's no beauty, flattery can't fix anything. Here, good mirror, take this payment for telling the truth:
dont flatter me praise cant fix what aint there mirror here's money for being real
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
This generous reward for your blunt honesty is more than you're owed.
You deserve generous payment for being so honest with me.
i'm paying u well for being honest
Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
All you've inherited is beauty.
Beauty is all you've got going for you.
all u got is looks
Everything in Acts 4 and 5 depends on Costard's muddle. He was given two letters in Act 3: Armado's letter to Jaquenetta and Berowne's letter to Rosaline. He mixes them up. As a result: (1) Armado's absurd letter goes to the Princess, who reads it aloud for sport—no real damage, and some good jokes. (2) Berowne's love letter to Rosaline ends up with Jaquenetta, who brings it to Holofernes, who sends it straight to the King. This ignites the entire Act 4 Scene 3 crisis: Berowne is exposed as the first oath-breaker, just as he was smugly watching the others fall. The letter-swap is the mechanism that makes Berowne's humiliation complete.
See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow. Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
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 spill
The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill.
Look, my beauty will be justified by good deeds. Oh, corruption in fairness, fitting for these times! A generous hand, even if ugly, gets praised as beautiful. But come, the bow. Now mercy becomes the killer, And shooting well is then considered wrong. Thus will I keep my reputation by holding back: If I don't wound, pity prevents me from acting; If I do wound, it was to show my skill, That I shot for praise rather than to truly kill. And it happens sometimes, truly, Glory becomes guilty of detested crimes, When, for fame's sake, for praise, for outward appearance, We bend to what our heart truly wants; As I, for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer's blood, though my heart means no harm.
Look, my looks are being saved by my good actions. Oh, what a messed-up value system for beauty these days! A mean person with a generous hand gets called beautiful. But let's get to the bow. Now mercy becomes the killer, And being a good shot counts as being bad. So I'll protect my reputation by holding back: If I don't wound the deer, I was too kind to do it; If I do wound it, I was just showing off my skill, That I was doing it for praise, not to actually kill. And yeah, sometimes this happens in real life, People become guilty of awful crimes for the sake of glory, When, for fame's sake, for praise, for their image, They do what their heart wants them to do; Like me, doing this for praise, about to kill A poor deer, when my heart actually means no harm.
my looks are safe w good deeds weird when mean ppl w generosity get called beautiful ok bow time if i dont shoot its mercy if i do its skill im doing this for praise not to hurt people do evil for fame all the time im about to kill but my heart doesnt want to
Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise’ sake, when they strive to be
Lords o’er their lords?
Don't bad-tempered wives hold their independence Only for the sake of praise, when they try to be In control of their husbands?
Aren't there mean wives who get praised for being independent When they boss around their husbands?
mean wives get praised for controlling their husbands right
Only for praise; and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
Only for praise; and we can give praise To any woman who dominates a man.
Just for praise; and we can praise Any woman who gets a man under her thumb.
yeah for praise we praise women who control men
Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
Here comes an ordinary person.
Here comes some random guy.
here comes some random dude
God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?
Good evening to all of you! Please, which is the main lady?
Hi everybody! So which one is the head lady here?
hey everyone which one's the boss lady
Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
You'll know her, fellow, because the others don't have heads.
You'll know her because the rest of them don't have brains.
shell be the one w a head the rest are headless
Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Who is the most important lady, the most tall?
So who's the top lady here - the tallest?
whos the big lady
The thickest and the tallest.
The plumpest and the tallest.
The biggest and the tallest.
the thickest tallest one
The thickest and the tallest. It is so, truth is truth.
An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here.
The thickest and the tallest. That's right, truth is truth. If your waist, mistress, were as slim as my brains, One of these girls' belts would fit your waist. Aren't you the chief woman? You're the thickest one here.
The thickest and tallest. That's the truth. If only your waist were as tiny as my intelligence, One of these maids' belts would fit you. You're the head woman, right? You're the biggest here.
yeah thickest tallest if ur waist was as small as my brain one of these belts would fit u u the boss? ur the thicc one
What’s your will, sir? What’s your will?
What do you want, sir? What do you want?
What do you need, sir? What do you need?
what u want
I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady Rosaline.
I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne for a lady named Rosaline.
I've got a letter from Monsieur Berowne to Lady Rosaline.
i got a letter from berowne for rosaline
O, thy letter, thy letter! He’s a good friend of mine.
Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve.
Break up this capon.
Oh, the letter, the letter! He's a good friend of mine. Stand aside, good messenger. Boyet, you have a talent. Break open this sealed letter.
Oh, the letter! He's my good friend. Step aside, you messenger. Boyet, you're good at cutting things open. Break open this sealed letter.
oh the letter hes my friend step aside boyet open this letter
I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook; it importeth none here.
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
I'm happy to help. This letter is misdirected; it's not for anyone here. It's written to Jaquenetta.
I'm here to help. This letter is for the wrong person; no one here should get it. It's for Jaquenetta.
ill help wrong letter not for us its for jaquenetta
The archery-as-sex wordplay in 4-1 is not gratuitous—it's structurally significant. The play is about the difference between studied abstinence (the oath to avoid women) and natural desire (which keeps breaking through). The bawdy archery game is desire speaking through a socially acceptable vehicle: sports-talk. Every archer term ('shoot,' 'mark,' 'hit,' 'prick,' 'clout') has a shadow meaning. The Princess's hunting expedition is itself a kind of symbolic reversal: the men have sworn off women, but here the women have come into the men's park, with their own weapons, and are doing the hunting. Boyet's starting question—'who is the shooter?'—implies this reversal: the women are the pursuers now.
We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and everyone give ear.
We will read it, I promise. Break the wax seal, and everyone listen.
We're going to read it, trust me. Break the wax seal, and everybody listen up.
were reading it break the seal listen up
[_Reads_.] _By heaven, that thou art fair is most infallible; true that
thou art beauteous; truth itself that thou art lovely. More fairer than
fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most
illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate
beggar Zenelophon, and he it was that might rightly say,_ “Veni, vidi,
vici,” _which to annothanize in the vulgar—O base and obscure
vulgar!_—videlicet, _He came, see, and overcame. He came, one; see,
two; overcame, three. Who came? The King. Why did he come? To see. Why
did he see? To overcome. To whom came he? To the beggar. What saw he?
The beggar. Who overcame he? The beggar. The conclusion is victory. On
whose side? The King’s. The captive is enriched. On whose side? The
beggar’s. The catastrophe is a nuptial. On whose side? The King’s? No,
on both in one, or one in both. I am the King, for so stands the
comparison; thou the beggar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I
command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I
entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? Robes. For
tittles? Titles. For thyself? Me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane
my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every
part.
Thine in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado.
Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play.
But if thou strive, poor soul, what are thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den._
[Reading.] By heaven, you are absolutely beautiful; truly beautiful; beautiful beyond beauty itself. Have mercy on your devoted servant. The great King Cophetua looked upon the beggar Zenelophon and rightfully said 'I came, I saw, I conquered'—which in plain English means: He came (one), saw (two), and overcame (three). Who came? The King. Why? To see. Whom did he see? The beggar. Whom did he overcome? The beggar. The result is victory—on the King's side. The prisoner is enriched—on the beggar's side. The outcome is marriage—on both sides. I am the King in this comparison; you are the beggar through your lowness. Should I command your love? I can. Force it? I could. Entreat it? I will. What will you exchange for rags? Rich robes. For lowly status? Titles. For yourself? Me. So expecting your reply, I kiss your feet, gaze at your picture, and give my heart to every part of you. Yours in devoted service, Don Adriano de Armado. Thus you hear the mighty lion roar against you, little lamb standing as his prey. Submit at his feet and he will stop hunting to play. But if you resist, poor soul, what will you be? Food for his rage, a meal for his den.
[Reading.] By heaven, you're absolutely, truly beautiful—more beautiful than beauty itself. Have mercy on your devoted servant. The great King Cophetua fell for the beggar Zenelophon and said 'I came, I saw, I conquered'—which means: He came (one), saw (two), and won (three). Who came? The King. Why? To look. At whom? The beggar. Who won? The beggar. The result is victory—the King's. The loser gets enriched—the beggar's. The outcome is marriage—for both. I'm the King in this story; you're the beggar. Should I order you to love me? I can. Force you? I could. Ask nicely? I will. What will you trade for rags? Fine clothes. For a low title? Noble rank. For your whole self? Me. So I'm waiting for your answer, kissing your feet, staring at your picture, and giving you all my heart. Yours in devoted service, Don Adriano de Armado. So you hear the mighty lion roaring at you, little lamb standing helpless as his prey. Kneel before his feet and he'll stop hunting to play. But if you fight back, what will you be? Just food for his rage, a meal for his den.
ur absolutely beautiful have mercy king cophetua chased a beggar girl said i came saw conquered meaning: came saw overcame im the king ur the beggar should i order u to love me? i can force u? i could ask nicely? i will ill give u rich clothes titles and me waiting 4 ur answer im a lion ur a lamb kneel and ill play resist and ull be my food
What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better?
What kind of ridiculous show-off wrote this letter? What's his style? What an idiot! Have you ever heard anything more absurd?
What kind of ridiculous show-off wrote this letter? What's his deal? What an idiot! Did you ever hear anything dumber?
who wrote this bs what a show-off did u ever hear anything dumber
I am much deceived but I remember the style.
I'd be very wrong if I didn't recognize the style.
I'd be really wrong if I didn't recognize how he writes.
id b shocked if that wasnt his writing
Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile.
Otherwise your memory is poor, having just read through it.
Otherwise you have a bad memory, just having read it.
ur memory sucks u literally just read it
This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court,
A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince and his book-mates.
This Armado is a Spaniard who lives here at court, A fantasist and show-off, and one who entertains The Prince and his scholarly friends.
Armado is a Spanish guy who lives at court, A show-off, a pompous fool, and he's basically entertainment For the Prince and his nerdy friends.
armado's spanish dude at court total show-off makes fun for prince and his nerd squad
Thou, fellow, a word.
Who gave thee this letter?
You there, a word. Who gave you this letter?
You there, listen. Who gave you this letter?
hey u who gave u this letter
I told you: my lord.
I already explained this to you - it was from my lord.
I already told you - it came from my master.
already said my lord sent it
To whom shouldst thou give it?
Who were you supposed to give it to?
Who was it supposed to go to?
who was it for
From my lord to my lady.
The letter travels from my lord to his intended lady.
It goes from my lord to the lady he's interested in.
his lord 2 his lady
From which lord to which lady?
Which specific lord sent this, and to which specific lady?
So what lord, and who's the lady he's after?
which lord which lady tho
From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he called Rosaline.
It came from my Lord Berowne, an excellent master of mine, Addressed to a woman from France whom he calls Rosaline.
It's from my good master Lord Berowne For a French lady he's interested in, Rosaline.
berowne (my master) sent it to rosaline the french girl
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
Here, sweet, put up this: ’twill be thine another day.
You delivered the letter to the wrong person. Come, lords, let's go. Here, dear, take this: it will be yours another day.
You gave the letter to the wrong person. Come on, lords, let's go. Here, honey, take this: you'll get it some other time.
u gave it to wrong person lords lets go here keep it itll be urs later
Scene 4-1 gives us the Princess in two modes: philosophical and comic. Her meditation on glory and guilt (lines 15)—'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'—is genuine moral thinking. She's reflecting on the gap between performance and reality, between what we do for applause and what we actually feel. This is the same gap the four lords are struggling with throughout. The Princess sees it clearly; they're still tangled in it. Her wit with the Forester, her decision to read Armado's letter, her quick analysis ('thou hast mistaken his letter')—all show a woman who is always three steps ahead.
Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
Who is the one shooting? Who is the one shooting?
Who's the one with the bow? Who's shooting?
whos the shooter
Shall I teach you to know?
Should I teach you to understand?
Want me to show you how to tell?
u want me to teach u
Ay, my continent of beauty.
Yes, you embodiment of beauty.
Yeah, you're the whole package of beauty.
yea u the beauty
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
Why, the one carrying the bow. Well dodged!
Why, the one holding the bow. Nice dodge!
the one with the bow nice dodge
My lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry,
Hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!
My lady goes hunting, but if you marry, Hang me if unfaithfulness doesn't happen that year. Nicely turned around!
My lady's going hunting, but if you get married, I'll bet my life you'll cheat on your husband. Nice one back!
lady hunts but if u marry u gonna cheat nice comeback
Well, then, I am the shooter.
Well, then, I am the one shooting.
Okay, so I'm the shooter.
fine im the shooter
And who is your deer?
And who is your target?
And who are you hunting?
whos ur prey
If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.
Finely put on indeed!
If we're choosing based on unfaithfulness, you should stay away. Nicely said indeed!
If we're picking based on cheating, you better not come near. Really good comeback!
if we picking by cheating stay away nice one
You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
You keep arguing with her, Boyet, and she hits you where it counts.
You keep fighting with her, Boyet, and she keeps going for your face.
u keep fighting w her and shes aiming for ur face
But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?
But she herself is hit lower down. Have I gotten her this time?
But she's the one getting hit where it matters. Did I get you this time?
but shes hit lower did i get u
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King
Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?
Should I come back at you with an old saying, one that was around when King Pepin of France was just a little boy, regarding this banter?
Should I hit you back with an ancient saying, from way back when King Pepin of France was just a kid, about this whole thing?
should i hit u back w an old saying from when king pepin was a boy
So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen
Guinevere of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
So I can answer you with one just as old, one that was around when Queen Guinevere of Britain was just a little girl, regarding this banter.
So I can come back at you with a saying just as old, from when Queen Guinevere of Britain was just a kid, about all this.
i can hit u back w an old one from when guinevere was a girl
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
You can't hit it, hit it, hit it, You can't hit it, my good man.
You can't hit the mark, hit the mark, hit the mark, You can't hit it, my friend.
u cant hit it hit it hit it u cant hit it buddy
An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.
If I cannot, cannot, cannot, If I cannot, another can.
If I can't, can't, can't do it, If I can't, someone else will.
if i cant cant cant someone else can
The scene ends with Costard alone on stage, praising Armado and Moth with genuine warmth. It's an easy speech to overlook, but it matters. Costard has no stake in the lords' romantic plots; he's a delivery boy who keeps fumbling the deliveries. But here he steps outside the plot to offer something like appreciation: Armado is 'dainty,' Moth is a 'handful of wit.' This is not mockery—Costard himself says the bawdy game was 'most incony vulgar wit,' crude but beautifully done. He appreciates skill at any level. His affection for the ridiculous Armado-Moth duo introduces the possibility that these characters—not just the lords—are worth caring about. It prepares us for why the Nine Worthies pageant matters, and why the lords' cruelty in 5-2 is more troubling than funny.
By my troth, most pleasant. How both did fit it!
Truly, most pleasant. How well both of you did it!
Honestly, that was fun. You both did great!
honestly u both crushed it
A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.
A remarkably well-placed shot, since both of them achieved it.
An amazing shot, since you both managed it.
sick shot both of u hit it
A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!
Let the mark have a prick in’t, to mete at, if it may be.
A target! Oh, notice that target! A target, she says! Let the target have a center point in it, to aim at.
A target! Oh, look at that target! A target, she says! Let that target have a dot in the middle to aim for.
a target look at that target let it have a center to aim for
Wide o’ the bow hand! I’ faith, your hand is out.
Way off to the side! Honestly, your aim is off.
You're way off target! Seriously, you're missing.
ur way off ur aim is trash
Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er hit the clout.
Indeed, he must shoot closer, or he'll never hit the target.
Yeah, he's got to shoot closer or he'll never hit the target.
he gotta shoot closer or hell never hit
An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
So if my hand is off target, then probably your hand is hitting it.
If I'm missing, then you're probably doing better.
if mine sucks urs prob works
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
Then she'll win by hitting the center perfectly.
Then she'll get the winning shot by hitting the bullseye.
shell win by hitting the center
Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
Come on, you're talking lewdly, your words are getting dirty.
Come on, you're getting gross, your language is getting dirty.
ur talking gross keep it clean
She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir. Challenge her to bowl.
She's too good for you at shooting, sir. Challenge her to bowls instead.
She's way better than you at archery. Try challenging her to bowling instead.
shes better than u at archery challenge her to bowling
I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
I'm afraid of too much friction. Good night, my wise friend.
I'm worried about things getting too heated. Good night.
im worried about friction good night
By my soul, a swain, a most simple clown!
Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down!
O’ my troth, most sweet jests, most incony vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
Armado, o’ the one side, O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand and how most sweetly he will swear!
And his page o’ t’other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit.
By my soul, what a country fool, the simplest clown! Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have humiliated him! By my word, such clever jokes, such witty common speech, When it comes so smoothly, so openly and fitting! Armado, on one side, oh, such a fussy gentleman! To see him walk in front of a lady carrying her fan! To see him kiss his hand and how sweetly he'll swear! And his page on the other side, that tiny bit of wit! Ah, heavens, what a pathetic young fool.
Seriously, what a country idiot, the stupidest guy! Man, how the ladies and I have made fun of him! Seriously, such funny jokes, such clever slang, When it all comes out so smooth and natural! Armado over there, oh, what a pretentious guy! You should see him walking around in front of ladies with their fan! You should see him kiss his hand and swear so sweetly! And his little page with his tiny bit of smarts! Geez, what a ridiculous little kid.
hes such a dumb clown lord how we put him down so funny so clever armado walking w ladys fan kissing his hand his page is tiny wit so pathetic
Sola, sola!
Hey, over here! Over here!
Hey, come over here!
ey! ey!
The Reckoning
This is the scene where the letter-mix-up Costard has been carrying since Act 3 finally detonates—in the worst possible way for Berowne. His actual love letter to Rosaline has been delivered elsewhere, and Armado's absurd letter is now public entertainment for the very woman Berowne is trying to impress. The bawdy second half shows Shakespeare letting his characters off the leash: the archery wordplay is as explicit as anything in the comedies.
If this happened today…
You carefully compose a heartfelt text for your crush, hand your phone to the wrong friend to send it, and that friend accidentally screenshots Armado's absurd "I am the King Cophetua, thou art the beggar" DM from the office weirdo—then reads it out loud at the party.