Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never labour’d in their minds till now; And now have toil’d their unbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptial.
No, my noble lord; It is not for you: I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch’d and conn’d with cruel pain, To do you service.
I will hear that play; For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies.
I love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged, And duty in his service perishing.
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
He says they can do nothing in this kind.
The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: And what poor duty cannot do noble respect Takes in it might, not merit. Where I have come, great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practised accent in their fears, And, in conclusion, dumbly have broken off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome; And in the modesty of fearful duty I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity.
So please, your Grace, the Prologue is address’d.
If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider, then, we come but in despite We do not come, as minding to content you Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not here. That you should here repent you. The actors are at hand; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know.
He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he Knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: It is not enough to speak, but to speak true.
Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.
His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
