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Summary
As the play begins, the King of Navarre and his three lords, Berowne, Longaville, and Dumaine, discuss the founding of their academe, or academy. The King reflects on the goals of their scholarship, the primary one being fame. He then asks the three lords to sign their names to the oath, swearing their commitment to the academe for three years. Longaville and Dumaine agree without hesitation, but Berowne has issues with the strictness of the oath. He questions the necessity of the requirements for fasting, little sleep, and the avoidance of women, calling them “barren tasks, too hard to keep, / Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep” (1.1.48–49).
Berowne, still stalling, begins to read the individual items set forth in the text of the decree, and he soon notices an issue. The second item reads: “If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the reset of the court can possible devise” (1.1.132–35). He points out that the King is going to break this article himself, since the daughter of the French king is about to pay a visit to their court. The King says that this decree must be forsworn “on mere necessity” (1.1.151). Berowne says that he has no problem subscribing to a decree that can be forsworn on mere necessity, and he finally signs the document.
Constable Dull enters with a letter and the fool, Costard. He tells them that he has a letter from Armado, and Costard tells them that the letter concerns him and Jaquenetta. The King reads the letter, in which Armado informs him that he has caught Costard consorting with Jaquenetta and is now sending him to the King for punishment. Costard tries to escape with clever wordplay, but he fails and is sentenced to a week of only bran and water.
Meanwhile, Armado confesses to his page, Mote, that he has fallen in love with Jaquenetta. He asks Mote to comfort him by telling him of other great men who have been in love, and Mote mentions Hercules and Samson. Dull returns with Costard and Jaquenetta and tells Armado that the King has sent Costard to serve his sentence. Armado tells Jaquenetta that he loves her, but she’s forced to depart with Dull. Armado sends Costard with Mote to be imprisoned and, when left alone, he laments that his oath will be forsworn through his love for Jaquenetta. He then begins to write.
Analysis
From the moment the King of Navarre announces the commitment to scholarship that he and his three lords have devised, it’s clear that their reasons for study are based in their own vanity. Indeed, the King opens the play with lines that emphasize worldly fame as his primary goal: “Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, / Live registered upon our brazen tombs” (1.1.1–2). What follows is a conventional claim that their studies will enable them to avoid the “disgrace of death” (1.2.3) by disgracing death itself. That is, their work together will make their court “the wonder of the world” (1.1.12) and thereby make them “heirs of all eternity” (1.1.7). Of all the King’s lords, Berowne is the only one who recognizes the vanity of such a pursuit. And precisely because their commitment to withdraw is rooted in vanity, he questions its practical value.
Perhaps more disconcerting than the vanity of scholarship is the simple fact that the oath these men are signing doesn’t acknowledge basic human needs and desires. Again, Berowne is the one to draw their attention to this oversight when he proclaims: “Necessity will make us all forsworn / Three thousand times within this three years’ space: / For every man with his affects is born, / Not by might mastered, but by special grace” (1.1.152–56). Every person must contend with their own emotions and passions—that is, their “affects.” However, Berowne argues that it isn’t possible to conquer one’s own desires “by might” alone. As if to prove his point, we learn in the second scene that Armado has already succumbed to his baser desires. Despite having also committed to three years of withdrawal from women, he has inexplicably fallen for the lowly commoner Jaquenetta. Already in act 1, then, it seems clear that this noble oath is doomed to fail. The fool Costard puts the matter clearly: “Such is the sinplicity of man to hearken after the flesh” (1.1.222–23).
As Costard’s amusing neologism sinplicity suggests, the use—and misuse—of words is important in the play’s opening act. Aside from being a great source of humor, the slipperiness of words will prove to be a key mechanism that allows these men to excuse their folly. Berowne indicates as much when he reminds the King that the banishment of women won’t work, since the Princess of France is scheduled to stay in Navarre. To this the King responds: “We must of force dispense with this decree. / She must lie here of necessity” (1.1.150–51). Amusingly, Berowne hears this exception as the institution of a new rule, in which any “necessity” will excuse the breaking of the oath: “If I break faith, this word shall speak for me: / I am forsworn on mere necessity” (1.1.157–58). Thus, Berowne and the others will all be able to evade the alarming punishments the King has devised for anyone who breaks the oath.
The slipperiness of words can be seen elsewhere in the opening act. When Berowne delivers a thoughtful argument against the need for scholarship, the King replies, “How well he’s read to reason against reading” (1.1.96). Here, Shakespeare appears to be poking fun at how philosophical reason can devolve into mere sophistry, allowing for ideas to be turned upside down and inside out with a mere verbal flourish. The King’s lords amply demonstrate this principle in their additions to the King’s clever observation. Dumaine proclaims, “Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding” (1.1.97), followed by Longaville declaring, “He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding” (1.1.98). Perhaps the most egregious example relating to the use and misuse of language is the hilariously inflated rhetoric of Armado. His letter recounting the arrest of Costard is bloated and ornate, a fact to which Costard amusingly draws our attention, even as our gentle scholars delight in the Spaniard’s “fire-new words” (1.1.182). By the time Armado turns to the writing of love poetry at the end of act 1, the audience is well trained to view wordplay as a key source of these men’s folly.
