Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A mess of Russians left us but of late. Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. We four, indeed, confronted here with four Biron. This jest is dry to me-Fair, gentle sweet, [greet Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light: Your capacity le of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye, Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you be long, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. Ros. All the fool mine? Biron. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad? Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale ?Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out?Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; [rance; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignoCut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance, Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend ;+ Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, [song: Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: After the fashion of the times. + Mistress. 1 I do forswear them: and I here protest, Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd Biron. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage:-bear with me, I am sick; eyes: These lords are visited; you are not free, Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. Ros. It is not so; For how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you. Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rade transgression Some fair excuse. Prin. The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even now disguis'd?, Prin. And were you well advis'd? Prin. When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King That more than all the world I did re spect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. [swear. Your oath once broke, you force not to for King. Despise me, when I break this oath of As precious eye-sight; and did value me Above this world: adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover. Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word. King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my 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. wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :— What; will you have me, or your pearl again? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on't;-Here was a consent,† (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy: [zany,‡ Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight * Make no difficulty. + Conspiracy. Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, [trick That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye, Boyet. Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. have done. Enter COSTARD. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. Cost. O Lord, Sir, they would know, [no. Biron. And three times thrice is nine. You cannot beg us, Sir, I can assure you, Sir; Biron. Is not nine. Cost. Under correction, Sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Cost. O Lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, Sir. Biron. How much is it? Cost. O Lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, Sir. 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 for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. Cost. We will turn it finely off, Sir; we will take some care. [Exit COSTARD !King. Birón, 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. you now; [how: That sport best pleases, that doth least know Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents, Their form confounded, makes most form in mirth; [birth. When great things labouring perish in their Rule. | 179 Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense [ARMADO Converses with the KING, and delivers Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's monarch: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too tuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of vain: But we will put it, as they say, to formind, most royal couplement! [Exit ARMADO. King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the peswain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, dant, Judas Machabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five. : Biron. There is five in the first show. King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so. Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedgepriest, the fool, and the boy :Abate a throw at novum ; and the whole world Cannot prickt out five such, take each one in again, his vein. King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. [Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c. Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter COSTARD arm'd, for Povey. Boyet. You lie, you are not he. Boyet. With libbard's head on knes Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,— Cost. It is great, Sir;-Pompey surnam'd the That aft in field, with targe and shield, did make And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass 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 Birou. Your nose smells, no, in this, most Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, Nath. When in the world Ilv'd, I was the Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Biron. Pompey the great, Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. 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 man; 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 armed, for Judas, and MOTH armed, 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 strangle serpents in his manus: Ergo, I come with this apology.— Hol. Judas I am, Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, Sir. Judas I am, ycleped Machabæus. [Exit MOTH. Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas. Biron. A kissing traitor:-How art thou prov'd Judas? Hol. Judas I am,— Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. an elder. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. Hol. What is this? Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Biron. A death's face in a ring. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion. And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. * A soldier's powder-horn. ↑ An ornamental buckle for fastening hat-bands, &c. timber'd. Long. His leg is too big for Hector. 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. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea Dum. That mint. Long. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 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 rot- Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,- is gone; she is two months on her way. Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trothe child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. jan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die. quenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, Dum. Most rare Pompey! Pompey, Pompey the huge! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Dum. Hector trembles. Dum. Hector will enallenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's 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 man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword:I pray you let me borrow my arms again. Dum Room for the incensed worthies. Cost I'll do it in my shirt. Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge. Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Biron. What reason have you for't? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward+ for penance. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour. Enter MERCADE. Mer. God save you, madam! But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, King. The extreme parts of time extremely Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the And by these badges understand the king. Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of Your favours, the ambassadors of love; 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. A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in : No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this, If for my love (as there is no such cause) You will do aught, this shall you do for me: Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed To some forlorn and naked hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world; There stay, until the twelve celestial signs Have brought about their annual reckoning: If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,‡ Nip not the gaudy blossoms of our love, For the remembrance of my father's death. 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; Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and With three-fold love I wish you all these three. wife? Kath. Not so, my lord;—a twelvemonth and : I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn Long. What says Maria? Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue groans, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Biron. That's too long for a play. Vehement. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,- Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, spring; the one maintained by the owl, the SONG. Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, Do paint the meadows with delight, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, II. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, III. Winter. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, To-whit, to-who, a merry note, When all aloud the wind doth blow, To-whit, to-who, a merry note, |