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Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these

sharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Kath. T en die a calf, before your horns do grow.

Long. One word in private with you,ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

Above the sense of sense: so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings,

Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure

scoff!

King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

[Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music and Attendants.

Prin.Twenty adieus,my frozen Muscovites.Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.

Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight?

Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ? This pert Birón was out of countenance quite. Ros. O they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his

sword:

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Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as dis guis'd:

Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder, what they were; and to what end
Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand.

Prin. Whip to our tents, as 1oes run over land. [Exeunt PRIN. Ros. KATH. and MARIA.

Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and
DUMAIN, in their proper habits.

King. Fair Sir, God save you! Where is the princess?

Command me any service to her thither? [ty, Boyet. Gone to her tent, Please it your majesKing. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

Boyet. I will; and so will she; I know, my
lord.
[Exit.
Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons
pease;

And utters it again when God doth please:
He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares
Atwakes,and wassels,+meetings,markets,fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he,
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy ;
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing
Mend him who can : the ladies call him, sweet;
A meant most meanly; and, in ushering,
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whales bone:
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my
heart,

That put Armado's page out of his part!

Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSA LINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants. Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour,

what wert thou,

[now? Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you

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Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure

As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest:
So much I hate a breaking-cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant
game;

A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam? Russians?
Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Ros. Madam, speak true:-It is not so, my
My lady, (to the manner of the days,*) [lord;
In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.

We four, indeed, confronted here with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have
drink.

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 Is of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but

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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: + Mistress.

* After the fashion of the times.

I do forswear them: and I here protest,
By this white glove, (how white the hand,
God knows!)

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin wench,-so God help me, la!—
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros. Suns SANS, I pray you.
Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage:-bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see;—
Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your

eyes:

These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

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 rude transgression Some fair excuse.

Prin. The fairest is confession.

Were you not here, but even now disguis'd? {
King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advis'd?
King. I was, fair madam.

Prin. When you then were here,

What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King That more than all the world I did respect her.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you

will reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.
Prin. Peace, peace, forbear;

[swear. Your oath once broke, you force not to forKing. Despise me, when I break this oath of

mine.

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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.
Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she

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Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight,

some Dick,

[trick That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd,Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, The ladies did change favours; and then we, Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. Now, to our perjury to add more terror, We are again forsworn; in will, and error. Much upon this it is:-And might not you, [TO BOYET. Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,* And laugh upon the apple of her eye? And stand between her back, Sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd; Die when you will, a smock shall be your

shrowd.

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[no.

Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost. O Lord, Sir, they would know,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or
Biron. What, are there but three?
Cost. No, Sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.

Biron. And three times thrice is nine.

Cost. Not so, Sir; under correction, Sir; I hope, it is not so:

You cannot beg us, Sir, I can assure you, Sir; we know what we know:

I hope, Sir, three times thrice, 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

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Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter ARMADO.

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.

[ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers him a paper.]

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?

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 schoolmaster is 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 ÅRMADO.

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 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 prick out five such, take each one in again,

his vein.

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[Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c.

Pageant of the Nine Worthies.

Enter COSTARD arm'd, for Pompey.

Cost. I Pompey am,

Boyet. You lie, you are not he.
Cost. I Pompey am,-

Boyet. With libbard's head on knee.

Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,— Dum. The great.

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 conquering might:

My'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

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Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the
world's commander ;-

Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so,
Alisander.

Biron. Pompey the great,

Cost. Your servant, and Costárd.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. O, Sir, [To NATH.] you have over-
thrown 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 fool-
ish mild man; an honest man, look you, and
soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neigh-
bour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but,
for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a lit-
tle o'erparted:-But there are worthies a com-
ing 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-head-

ed canus;

And, when he was a bube, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus :
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority;
Ergo, I come with this apology.—
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.

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[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.
Hol. What mean you, Sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, Sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on
an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Biron. Because thou hast no face.

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.
Dim. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.*
Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch.t
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-
drawer:

And now, forward; for we have put thee in

countenance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-lac'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?

* A soldier's powder-horn.

+ An ornamental buckle for fastening hat-bands, &c.

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 been baited!

Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

I

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, 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 cleantimber'd.

Long. His leg is too big for Hector.
Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron. This cannot be Hector.

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.
Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace.

The armipotent Murs, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion."
I am that flower,-

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-
ten; 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,
hearing.
[to the PRINCESS.] bestow on me the sense of
[BIRON whispers COSTARD.
Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much
delighted.

Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector fur surmounted Hannibal,— is gone; she is two months on her way. Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she

Arm. What meanest thou?

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 po

tentates? thou shalt die.

quenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd,
Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Ja-
for Pompey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Pompey, Pompey the huge!

Biron, Greater than great, great, great, great

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on!

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Dum. Hector will challenge 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:pray you let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Cost. I'd 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: si ce 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!
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

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 father-
Prin. Dead, for my life.

Mer. Even so; ny 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.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say.-1 thank you, gracious
lords,

For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad sou!, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide,
The liberalt opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

King. The extreme parts of time extremely
All causes to the purpose of his speed; [form
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,

[ost,

The holy suit which lain it would convince;
Yet, since love s argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are
double.

Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the
ear of grief;-

And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
+ Clothed in wool, without linen.
+ Free to excess.

• A clown.

Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty,
ladies,

Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Tnose heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those taat make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Pria. We have receiv'd your letters, full of
love;

Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your
In their own fashion, like a merriment. [loves
Dum. Our le ters, 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. 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,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither entitled in the other's heart.

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.

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