Prin. When you then were here, King. Upon mine honour, no. Prin. Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy; but I am to stand King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my for him. troth, I never swore this lady such an oath. Ros. By heaven you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. No, sir; but it is vara fine, Biron. You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, — Biron. Go, bid them prepare. some care. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit COSTARD. King. Biron, they will shame us, let them not approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the king's and his company. King. I say, they shall not come. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now: That sport best pleases, that doth least know how : Prin. Doth this man serve God? : Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch for, I protest, the school master is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain; But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit ARMADO. King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Ma chabæus. Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam’d the great ; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat: And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France. If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I had done. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy. Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my con quering might: My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tendersmelling knight. Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good : sander. Cost. O, sir, [to NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close stool, will be given to A-jax he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild inan; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ; -a little o'erparted: - But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort. Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter HOLOFERNES, arm'd, for Judas, and MOTH arm'd, for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangie serpents in his manus: Keep some state in thy erit, and vanish. [Exit MоTH. Judas, I am, Hol. Judas, I am, Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer: And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun tenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. False: we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name. Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him: - Jud-as, away. Hol. This is not generous, not gentle; not humble Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble. Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he becn baited! Enter ARMADO, arm'd, for Hector. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Boyet. But is this Hector? Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timbered. Long. His leg is too big for Hector. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty Gave Hector a gift, Dum. A gilt nutmeg. Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven, Arm. Peace! Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector. Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the PRINCESS.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way. Arm. What meanest thou? Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey, the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is mov'd::- More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. King. The extreme parts of time extremely forin The holy suit which fain it would convince; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are doub.e. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the king. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's For your fair sakes have we neglected time, belly than will sup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword: - I pray you, let me borrow my arms again. man; Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; In their own fashion, like a merriment. Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. Prin. Change not your offer made in heat of blood; King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank, You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick. Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife! A beard, fair health, and ho nesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, What humble suit attends 'thy answer there; Impose some service on me for thy love. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, Biron. A twelvemonth? well, Lefa' what will befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. leave. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my [To the KING. King. No, madam: we will bring you on your Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, 1 am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others. This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. |