Act 4, Scene 2 — Love's Labour's Lost

The argument Holofernes the pedant and Nathaniel the curate congratulate each other on the hunt while Dull stands ignored. Holofernes composes an impromptu alliterative poem on the pricket. Jaquenetta arrives with Berowne's misdirected love letter—the one Costard accidentally delivered to her instead of to Rosaline. Holofernes reads the address, realizes it is from one of the oath-takers to a French lady, and sends Jaquenetta to deliver it directly to the King.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

NATHANIEL [pompous, mock-solemn approval]

Very reverend sport, truly, and done in the testimony of a good

conscience.

Really excellent sport, truly, and performed with the evidence of a good conscience.

Great sport, honestly—and all done with a clear conscience.

solid sport good conscience

🎭 Dramatic irony

HOLOFERNES [pedantically showing off his Latin]

The deer was, as you know, _sanguis_, in blood, ripe as the pomewater,

who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of _caelo_, the sky, the

welkin, the heaven, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of

_terra_, the soil, the land, the earth.

The deer was, as you know, full of blood, ripe as a pomewater, which now hangs like a jewel in the ear of the sky, the heavens, and suddenly falls like a crab onto the face of the soil, the land, the earth.

The deer was all full of blood, ripe like a perfect fruit, and it hangs there like a jewel in the sky, then suddenly drops like a crab crashing to the ground.

deer was ripe lung like jewel in sky then fell like crab

Why it matters Holofernes's opening speech is a manifesto of his style: everything said three or four times, Latin mixed with English, a simple observation ('the deer was healthy, then it died') turned into a little aria of vocabulary. He's showing off, and Nathaniel's job is to appreciate it.

NATHANIEL [flattering while gently correcting him]

Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a

scholar at the least. But, sir, I assure ye it was a buck of the first

head.

Truly, Master Holofernes, the descriptive words are nicely varied, like someone educated would do at minimum. But sir, I assure you it was a male deer of the first rank.

You know, Master Holofernes, those descriptions are really well done, pretty scholarly. But honestly, that was a first-rate stag.

nice descriptions pretty scholarly but that was a prime stag

HOLOFERNES [briskly, pedantically disagreeing]

Sir Nathaniel, _haud credo_.

Sir Nathaniel, I don't believe you.

Sir Nathaniel, I don't believe that for a second.

i don't believe you

DULL [blunt, plainspoken correction]

’Twas not a “auld grey doe”, ’twas a pricket.

It was not an old grey female deer, it was a young male deer.

It wasn't an old doe—it was a young male deer.

not an old doe it was a young male

Why it matters Dull speaks for the first time in the scene — and he's correct. The deer was a pricket, not a full buck. The comedy of the next several exchanges is that Dull keeps being right while Holofernes condescends to him as ignorant.

HOLOFERNES [condescending, elaborately scornful]

Most barbarous intimation! Yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, _in

via_, in way, of explication; _facere_, as it were, replication, or

rather, _ostentare_, to show, as it were, his inclination, after his

undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather,

unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my _haud

credo_ for a deer.

Most crude way of putting it! Yet it's a kind of suggestion, so to speak, by way of explanation; a kind of doing, as it were, of repetition, or rather, displaying, to show his tendency after his unrefined, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or even more unconfirmed fashion, to assert again my disagreement about the deer.

That's the crudest way to correct me! But it's kind of an attempt at explaining things—a way of just repeating himself, really, in his rough, uneducated, unpolished, completely untrained way of speaking, just to contradict my judgment about the deer.

so crude but he's just repeating himself in his uneducated way

DULL [stubbornly repeating himself]

I said the deer was not a “auld grey doe”, ’twas a pricket.

I said the deer was not an old grey female, it was a young male deer.

I said that wasn't an old doe—it was a young male deer.

i said not an old doe a young male

HOLOFERNES ≋ verse [mocking Dull's simplicity]

Twice-sod simplicity, _bis coctus!_

O, thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!

Stupidity twice cooked, twice boiled! O monster of Ignorance, how ugly you look!

Such simple-minded stupidity, cooked twice over! O you monster of Ignorance, how ugly you are!

stupid cooked twice over ignorance looks so ugly

NATHANIEL [condescendingly pitying the unlettered Dull]

Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred of a book.

He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink.

His intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible

in the duller parts.

And such barren plants are set before us that we thankful should be—

Which we of taste and feeling are—for those parts that do fructify in

us more than he.

For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,

So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school.

But, _omne bene_, say I, being of an old father’s mind;

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

Sir, he has never eaten from the refinements that come from books. He has not consumed paper, as it were; he has not drunk ink. His mind is not filled with learning; he is only an animal, only aware in the dullest senses. And such barren plants are placed before us that we should be grateful—we who have taste and feeling—for those qualities that flourish in us more than in him. For as it would be wrong for me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, so would it be wrong to see him in a school where learning matters. But, all is well, I say, thinking like an old father; many can handle bad weather who don't love the wind.

Sir, he's never tasted anything from books. He hasn't read or learned anything—he's just an animal, only feeling things in the most basic way. And considering we're around such useless people, we who actually have taste and real feeling should be grateful we're so much smarter than him. I mean, it wouldn't be right for me to be vain or foolish, and it would be just as bad to put him in a school. But that's how it is—some people can handle bad times even when they don't like struggle.

he never read no books just an animal we're smarter can't put him in school

Why it matters Nathaniel's speech about Dull is the play's sharpest satire of academic condescension. He pities Dull; he doesn't hate him. He is genuinely, earnestly convinced that literacy is a biological distinction — that Dull is literally less than human because he hasn't read. This is not villainy but a complete failure of empathy dressed up as learning.

DULL [cheekily posing his own riddle]

You two are bookmen. Can you tell me by your wit

What was a month old at Cain’s birth, that’s not five weeks old as yet?

You two are educated men. Can you tell me through your wit what was a month old at Cain's birth but is not five weeks old even now?

You two know your books. Can you solve this for me—what was a month old when Cain was born but still isn't five weeks old today?

you're scholars solve this riddle what was month old at cain's birth still not five weeks old?

Why it matters Dull, dismissed as an animal, immediately poses a riddle that neither learned man gets on the first try. The answer is the moon — it was a month old at the Creation (the cycle had turned once), and because the lunar cycle is under five weeks it will never actually reach five weeks. The riddle is clever; Dull found it himself. Shakespeare is quietly scoring a point for common-sense intelligence against academic performance.

HOLOFERNES [smugly showing off the answer]

Dictynna, goodman Dull. Dictynna, goodman Dull.

The moon goddess, my good Dull. The moon goddess, my good Dull.

The moon goddess, my friend Dull. The moon goddess, friend Dull.

the moon goddess the moon goddess

DULL [genuinely baffled by the word]

What is Dictynna?

what is dictynna

NATHANIEL [helpfully explaining the reference]

A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.

A name for Phoebe, for Luna, for the moon.

Another name for the moon goddess—Phoebe, Luna, whatever you want to call it.

a name for the moon

HOLOFERNES ≋ verse [pedantic triumph at his own cleverness]

The moon was a month old when Adam was no more,

And raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score.

Th’ allusion holds in the exchange.

The moon was a month old when Adam no longer lived, and had not reached five weeks when he reached one hundred years old. The comparison holds up in this exchange.

The moon was a month old when Adam died, and still wasn't five weeks old when Adam turned a hundred. See? The riddle works perfectly.

moon was month old when adam died still not five weeks at age hundred

DULL [earnestly misusing the fancy word]

’Tis true, indeed. The collusion holds in the exchange.

It is true, indeed. The comparison holds in this exchange.

That's true, yeah. The parallel works out.

true it works

HOLOFERNES [condescendingly correcting his blunder]

God comfort thy capacity! I say, th’ allusion holds in the exchange.

May God comfort your understanding! I say the comparison holds in this exchange.

May God help you understand! I'm telling you, it works perfectly.

god help you understand it works

DULL [stubbornly doubling down, comic malapropism]

And I say the pollution holds in the exchange, for the moon is never

but a month old; and I say beside that ’twas a pricket that the

Princess killed.

And I say the corrupted version holds in this exchange, for the moon is always only a month old; and I say besides that it was a young male deer that the Princess killed.

And I'm saying the moon thing works, because the moon is never anything but a month old, and anyway the Princess definitely shot a young male deer.

moon's only month old so it works she killed a young male

Why it matters Dull's triple word-swap (allusion/collusion/pollution) is one of Shakespeare's great comic bits — it shows Dull trying to engage at the pedants' level and failing cheerfully, while remaining stubbornly correct about the deer. He is the play's emblem of practical intelligence versus academic performance.

HOLOFERNES [eager to show off his verse]

Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the

deer? And, to humour the ignorant, call I the deer the Princess killed

a pricket.

Sir Nathaniel, would you hear an improvised poem on the death of the deer? And to humor the ignorant, I will call the deer the Princess killed a young male deer.

Sir Nathaniel, want to hear a quick poem about this dead deer? And to keep things simple, I'll just call it what the Princess shot.

want a poem about the dead deer? let's just call it what she shot

NATHANIEL [deferentially encouraging him]

_Perge_, good Master Holofernes, _perge_, so it shall please you to

abrogate scurrility.

Go ahead, good Master Holofernes, go ahead, so it shall please you to avoid rudeness.

Go for it, Master Holofernes, go ahead—if you can do it without being offensive.

go ahead if you can avoid being crude

HOLOFERNES [proudly reciting his alliterative verse]

I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility.

The preyful Princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing pricket;

Some say a sore; but not a sore till now made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell, put “l” to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;

Or pricket sore, or else sorel, the people fall a-hooting.

If sore be sore, then “L” to “sore” makes fifty sores o’ sorel.

Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more “L”.

I will apply alliteration; for it shows skill. The bold Princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing young male deer; some say a sore animal; but not a sore one until now made sore with shooting. The dogs howled, add the letter L to sore, then the young deer jumps from the thicket; or pricked young deer, or else the young deer, the people shout. If sore is sore, then adding L to sore makes fifty sores of young deer. From one sore I make a hundred by adding but one more L.

I'm going to use alliteration—it shows skill. The brave Princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing young male deer; some say an aching beast, but not aching until now that it's been shot. The dogs howled, put an L in front of sore, and the young deer jumps from the bushes; the people cheer. If sore is sore, adding an L makes it work. From one wound I make a hundred just by adding a single letter.

alliteration shows skill the princess shot the deer add an L and the poem works one wound becomes a hundred

Why it matters Holofernes's pricket poem is deliberately absurd — it's self-parody of academic poetic 'facility.' But the alliterative chain and the sore/sorel/L pun are genuinely ingenious wordplay. Shakespeare is mocking and demonstrating verbal dexterity simultaneously.

NATHANIEL [fawning admiration for Holofernes]

A rare talent!

a rare talent

DULL [dim, self-satisfied pun]

[_Aside_.] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

If a talent were a claw, watch how he scratches at him with his talent.

If talent were a claw, look at how he claws at him with it.

if talent was a claw look how he claws him

HOLOFERNES [pompous self-congratulation]

This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant

spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions,

motions, revolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memory,

nourished in the womb of _pia mater_, and delivered upon the mellowing

of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I

am thankful for it.

This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant mind, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, notions, movements, shifts. These are created in the brain of memory, nourished in the mind, and delivered when the right moment comes. But the gift is good in those in whom it is sharp, and I am grateful for it.

This is just a gift I have, simple as that—a wild, foolish mind full of images, shapes, ideas, and movements. All of it gets created in my brain, grows there, and comes out when the right moment hits. But it's a good gift in people who have a sharp mind, and I'm thankful for it.

i have a gift wild foolish mind full of ideas i'm grateful for it

Why it matters Holofernes's self-congratulation here is spectacular. He calls his gift 'simple' while describing it in eight-word lists. The comedy is that he is not performing modesty — he genuinely thinks this is a reasonable description of his mind.

NATHANIEL [earnest, fawning praise]

Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their

sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly

under you. You are a good member of the commonwealth.

Sir, I praise God for you, and so may my parishioners, for their sons are well taught by you, and their daughters benefit greatly under you. You are a good member of society.

Sir, I thank God for you, and my church members do too—their sons are well educated by you, and their daughters learn so much from you. You're a real asset to the community.

you teach so well your students benefit you're good for society

HOLOFERNES [self-important, noticing her approach]

_Mehercle!_ If their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction;

if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But, _vir sapit

qui pauca loquitur_. A soul feminine saluteth us.

By Hercules! If their sons are clever, they'll need no instruction; if their daughters are able, I will teach them. But a wise man speaks little. A woman has arrived to greet us.

Good heavens! If their sons are bright, they don't need my teaching. If their daughters are smart, I'll train them. Remember, a wise man speaks little. A woman's here.

if their kids are smart they won't need me. wise men speak less. a woman's here

Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.

JAQUENETTA [simple, polite greeting]

God give you good morrow, Master Person.

May God give you good morning, Master Parson.

Good morning, Master Parson. God bless you.

good morning, master parson

HOLOFERNES [pedantically punning on his own title]

Master Person, _quasi_ pierce one. And if one should be pierced, which

is the one?

Master Parson, as if to pierce one. And if one should be pierced, which one is it?

Master Parson—like, to pierce someone. And if someone gets pierced, who would it be?

master parson who gets pierced?

COSTARD [cheekily mocking his girth]

Marry, Master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

Well, Master schoolmaster, he who looks most like a big barrel.

Well, Master schoolmaster, the one who looks most like a big fat barrel.

he looks like a barrel

HOLOFERNES [grudgingly amused, conceding the wit]

Of piercing a hogshead! A good lustre or conceit in a turf of earth;

fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine. ’Tis pretty; it is

well.

About piercing a barrel! A good clever remark in crude form; enough fire for a stone, enough shine for a pig. It's pretty; it works well.

Piercing a barrel—that's a clever insult, pretty crude though. Enough sharpness for any stone, enough shine for any pig. It's clever; I like it.

piercing a barrel clever insult i like it

JAQUENETTA [earnestly asking for his help]

Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter. It was given me

by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado. I beseech you read it.

Kind Master Parson, would you be so good as to read this letter aloud for me. Costard gave it to me, and it comes from Don Armado. I'm asking you to read it.

Hey Master Parson, could you read this letter for me? Costard gave it to me from Don Armado. Can you check it out?

master parson read this letter for me it's from don armado

Why it matters Jaquenetta says she received this from Costard, sent by Armado. But the audience knows what she does not: this is Berowne's letter to Rosaline, not Armado's letter to Jaquenetta. The letters were swapped. This is the scene where that mistake surfaces.

[_Giving a letter to Nathaniel._]

HOLOFERNES [pretentiously nostalgic recitation]

_Fauste precor, gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra Ruminat_—

and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan, I may speak of thee as the

traveller doth of Venice:

_Venetia, Venetia,

Chi non ti vede, non ti pretia._

Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.

Blessed Mantuan, when the cattle rest under cold shade—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan, I can speak of you like the traveler speaks of Venice: Venice, Venice, whoever has not seen you, does not value you. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Whoever does not understand you, does not love you.

That blessed Mantuan passage about cattle resting in the shade—you know it. Ah, good old Mantuan, I can praise you like travelers praise Venice: Venice, Venice, if you haven't seen it you don't appreciate it. Old Mantuan! Anyone who doesn't understand you can't love you.

old mantuan like venice if you haven't seen it you can't appreciate it

[_He sings_.]

HOLOFERNES [distracted, noticing it's verse]

Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.

Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? Or rather as Horace says in

his—What, my soul, verses?

Singing the musical scale. If I may ask, sir, what does this letter actually say? Or, following Horace's reasoning in his writings—Hold on, is this verse?

Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la. Excuse me, what's this letter about? Or, like Horace said, is this—wait, are these verses?

do re mi fa sol la what's in this? poems?

NATHANIEL [agreeing, deferential]

Ay, sir, and very learned.

Yes, sir, and very learned.

Yeah, sir, and really well educated.

yes very learned

HOLOFERNES ≋ verse [eager to judge the verse]

Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse,

_Lege, domine_.

Let me hear a stanza, a verse. Read it, sir.

Let me hear a poem, a verse. Go ahead and read it.

let me hear a poem read it

[_Reads_.]

NATHANIEL [earnestly reciting the borrowed love poem]

_If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed.

Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll faithful prove.

Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.

Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes,

Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend.

If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice.

Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend,

All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;

Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire.

Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,

Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.

Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong,

That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue._

If love makes me break my promise, how can I promise to love? Ah, no loyalty could last if I don't devote it to beauty. Though I break my promise to myself, to you I'll prove faithful. Those thoughts were like oak trees to me, but like willow branches bowed to you. Study his bias removes your books, and makes your eyes his book, Where all those pleasures live that art would understand. If knowledge is the goal, knowing you would be enough. Well-learned is the tongue that can praise you well, Every ignorant soul that sees you without amazement; Which is some praise for me, that I admire your qualities. Your eye carries Jove's lightning, your voice his terrible thunder, Which, not bent toward anger, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as you are, forgive love this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly voice.

If love makes me break my promise, how can I promise to love anyone? No loyalty would ever hold if I didn't devote it to beauty. Even though I betrayed myself, I'll stay loyal to you. My thoughts were strong like oaks, but they bend like willows toward you. Study stops when I look at you; your eyes become my only book, Where everything beautiful lives that I could ever understand. If knowing you is the goal, that's all I need. The tongue that praises you well is truly learned, But the soul that sees you without wonder is completely ignorant. Which is something I'm proud of—that I'm amazed by you. Your eyes flash like Jove's lightning, your voice like his thunder, And when it's not angry, it's beautiful music and sweet warmth. You're heavenly, so forgive love for this mistake, Of praising heaven's beauty with a human voice.

if love makes me break my promise how can i promise to love? your eyes are all i need your voice is music forgive me for praising heaven with a human voice

Why it matters This is Berowne's actual love poem — sincere, accomplished, and completely in violation of his oath. Compared to Armado's letter read in 4-1, it is genuinely beautiful. The irony is that Holofernes, who is about to dismiss it as unlearned, is handling evidence of a real emotion that Armado's bombast only parodies. The poem will reach the King in minutes.

HOLOFERNES [critically showing off his judgment]

You find not the apostrophus, and so miss the accent. Let me supervise

the canzonet. [_He takes the letter_.] Here are only numbers ratified,

but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, _caret_.

Ovidius Naso was the man. And why indeed “Naso,” but for smelling out

the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? _Imitari_ is

nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired

horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you?

You don't notice the accent mark, and so you miss the emphasis. Let me review the song. Here are only the basic verses, but for the elegance, skill, and beautiful rhythm of poetry, there's nothing. Ovid Naso was the poet. And why "Naso," but because he knows how to discover the sweet-smelling flowers of imagination, the sudden ideas of invention? Imitating is nothing: the dog does what his master does, the monkey does what his keeper does, the tired horse follows his rider. But young lady, was this written for you?

You're missing the stress marks, so you're missing the whole point. Let me look at this poem properly. It has basic lines, but for real poetry skill and beautiful rhythm—there's nothing. Ovid Naso was the real poet. And why is he called Naso? Because he knew how to find the sweet scents of imagination, those sudden flashes of creativity. Copying is nothing—the dog copies his master, the monkey copies his keeper, the tired horse follows his rider. But young lady, was someone writing this to you?

you're missing the stress marks this poem lacks real skill ovid naso was better was this for you?

Why it matters Holofernes's verdict on Berowne's sonnet is that it's technically competent but lacks the divine inspiration of Ovid. He is not entirely wrong on the merits — Berowne's poem is sincere but not a masterpiece. But the scene makes clear that Holofernes evaluates poetry by classical standards, not by the standard of real feeling, which is exactly what Berowne's poem has and Holofernes's own pricket poem lacks.

JAQUENETTA [simply supplying the information]

Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the strange queen’s lords.

Yes, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the visiting queen's lords.

Yeah, sir, it's from Monsieur Berowne—one of the visiting queen's nobles.

from monsieur berowne one of the queen's lords

Why it matters Jaquenetta names Berowne as the sender. This is the key moment: Holofernes will now check the address on the letter and realize it was meant for a French lady (Rosaline), not for Jaquenetta. He connects this to the King's oath-keeping — and decides to send it straight to the King.

HOLOFERNES [self-importantly piecing it together]

I will overglance the superscript: _To the snow-white hand of the most

beauteous Lady Rosaline._ I will look again on the intellect of the

letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written

unto: _Your Ladyship’s in all desired employment, Berowne._ Sir

Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the votaries with the King, and here

he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen’s, which

accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and

go, my sweet, deliver this paper into the royal hand of the King. It

may concern much. Stay not thy compliment. I forgive thy duty. Adieu.

I will glance over the heading: To the snow-white hand of the most beautiful Lady Rosaline. I will look again at the meaning of the letter, at the name of the person writing to the person written to: Your Ladyship's in all desired service, Berowne. Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the devoted followers with the King, and here he has written a letter to one of the visiting queen's servants, which by chance or by the course of events has gone astray. Hurry and go, my dear, deliver this paper to the royal hand of the King. It may matter greatly. Don't worry about formality. I forgive you your duty. Goodbye.

Let me check the address: To the snow-white hand of the most beautiful Lady Rosaline. Now let me look at what the letter actually says, who's writing to whom: Your Ladyship's Berowne. Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the King's devoted followers, and he's written a letter to one of the visiting queen's ladies, but it got lost somehow. Go quickly, my dear, get this to the King's hand. It could be important. Don't worry about being polite—just go. I let you off the hook. Goodbye.

letter for rosaline from berowne the king needs to see it it could matter go quickly

Why it matters This is the pivot of the entire fourth act. Holofernes has recognized Berowne's letter as evidence of oath-breaking and is sending it directly to the King. He acts out of a sense of civic duty, not malice — which is funnier and more interesting than if he were a villain. Berowne's exposure is now inevitable.

JAQUENETTA [polite farewell, moving on]

Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life.

Good Costard, go with me. Sir, may God keep you safe.

Come on, Costard, let's go. Sir, God bless you.

let's go costard god bless you

COSTARD [cheerful and willing]

Have with thee, my girl.

I'm coming along with you, my girl.

Let's go, girl. I'm right behind you.

let's go

[_Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta._]

NATHANIEL [piously deferential]

Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a

certain Father saith—

Sir, you have done this in fear of God, very reverently; and, as a certain Father said—

Sir, you've done this with respect for God, very properly; and like a certain Father once said—

you did this with respect for god

HOLOFERNES [dismissive, redirecting to himself]

Sir, tell not me of the Father, I do fear colourable colours. But to

return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Sir, don't tell me about the Father, I fear misleading appearances. But returning to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Sir, don't talk to me about the Father—I'm worried about appearances. Anyway, back to the poem: did you like it, Sir Nathaniel?

don't mention the father so did you like the poem?

NATHANIEL [mild, qualified praise]

Marvellous well for the pen.

Remarkably well for something written down.

Really quite good, considering it was written.

pretty good for written work

HOLOFERNES [boastfully extending an invitation]

I do dine today at the father’s of a certain pupil of mine, where if,

before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I

will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or

pupil, undertake your _ben venuto;_ where I will prove those verses to

be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I

beseech your society.

I am dining today at the home of a certain student of mine, and if before the meal it would please you to say grace at the table, I will, using my authority with the parents of this student, welcome you; where I will prove those verses to be very uneducated, showing no taste for poetry, wit, or imagination. I ask for your company.

I'm having dinner today at the home of one of my students, and if you'd be willing to say grace before we eat, I'd love to have you there. I'll even tell the parents that I invited you. But fair warning—I'll show that those verses aren't very good, no real poetry, wit, or creativity. Come join us?

dinner at a student's house will you say grace? come with me i'll show those verses aren't good

NATHANIEL [graciously accepting]

And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of

life.

And I thank you too; for company, the text says, is the happiness of life.

And thank you—because honestly, being with people is what makes life good.

thank you company makes life good

HOLOFERNES [self-satisfied, wrapping things up]

And certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. [_To Dull_.] Sir, I

do invite you too. You shall not say me nay. _Pauca verba_. Away! The

gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.

And certainly, the text proves it exactly. Sir, I do invite you too. You will not refuse me. Few words. Away! The nobility are occupied with their games, and we will go to our recreation.

And definitely, that's what the text proves. Sir, I'm inviting you too—don't say no. Let's stop talking and go! The nobles are playing their games, and we're going to have some fun.

come with us no refusals let's have fun

[_Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

This is where Costard's letter-swap turns from a domestic comedy into a political bomb. Berowne's poem—sincere, quite beautiful, and completely oath-breaking—is now in the hands of the most pedantic man in Navarre, who has just identified it as treasonous evidence. Holofernes becomes, unwittingly, the mechanism of exposure. Meanwhile, the scene also gives us the full portrait of academic pomposity: Holofernes performing intelligence for Nathaniel, and both of them performing it above Dull's head.

If this happened today…

You drunk-text your crush from your own phone, but through some miracle of autocorrect chaos your text goes to your boss's assistant. The assistant, who is a corporate communications pedant, reads it, identifies your email address in the header, realizes it violates your employment contract, and forwards it to your boss saying it 'may concern much.'

Continue to 4.3 →