Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal, of that which it presents

The form confounded makes most form in mirth a;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
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 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 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, 't is not so.

BIRON. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy :

Abate a throw at novum ; and the whole world again
Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein.

KING. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain

* The ordinary reading of these lines is thus:

"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."

With an alteration of punctuation we print these lines as in the original; altering their of the third line to the. We do not alter that to them, as is usually done. We understand the reading thus:Where zeal strives to give content, and the contents (things contained) die in the zeal, the form of that which zeal presents, being confounded, makes most form in mirth.

b

Abate a throw. Novum, or quinquenove, was a game at dice, of which nine and five were the principal throws. Biron therefore says, Abate a throw-that is, leave out the nine-and the world cannot prick out five such. Libbard-leopard.

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

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. T is 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.

NATH. 66

Enter NATHANIEL, armed, for Alexander.

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.

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, 't is right; you were so, Alisander.

BIRON. Pompey the great,

Your servant, and Costard.

COST. 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. 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, in sooth; and a very good bowler 32: but, for Alisander, alas, you see how 't is; 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 for Judas, and MOTH 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:

• Alexander had his arms in the old heraldry—a lion in a chair, with a battle-axe.
O'erparted-overparted, not quite equal to his part.

ace of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

pummel of Cæsar's falchion.

rv'd-bone face on a flask c.

-eorge's half-cheek in a brooch.

in a brooch of lead.

nd worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.

forward; for we have put thee in countenance. ve put me out of countenance.

we have given thee faces.

u have out-fac'd them all.

ou wert a lion, we would do so.

efore, as he is an ass, let him go.

ieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

⇒ latter end of his name.

The ass to the Jude; give it him:- Jud-as, away!

not generous; not gentle; not humble.

ht for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble.

oor Machabæus, how hath he been baited!

[Exit MOTH.

a tradition was that Judas hanged himself on an elder-tree. Thus in Ben Jon

a out of his Humour,' " He shall be your Judas, and you shall be his elder-tree to

d. It appears, from several passages in the old dramas, that the head of a cittern, was terminated with a face.

Idier's powder-horn, which was often elaborately carved.

Enter ARMADO, armed, 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.

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,"-

DUм. A gilt nutmega.

BIRON. A lemon.

LONG. Stuck with cloves.

DUM. No, cloven.

ARM. Peaceb!

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 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.

BOYET. Loves her by the foot.

DUM. He may not by the yard.

ARM. "This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,"

• Gilt is the reading of the folio; gift of the quarto. Mr. Dyce quotes some lines from Barnfield's 'Affectionate Shepherd,' 1594, showing that a gilt nutmeg was a common gift: “I will give thee," says the shepherd,

66

“A gilded nutmeg and a race of ginger."

Peace! This interjection, which is found in the quarto, is omitted in the folio.

• When he breath'd, he was a man, is not found in the first or second folios. It is the reading of the quarto.

party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on

meanest thou?

, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: ick; the child brags in her belly already; 't is yours.

thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.

shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and for Pompey that is dead by him.

rare Pompey!

owned Pompey!

ater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! or trembles.

pey is moved:-More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on! or will challenge him.

if he have no more than man's blood in 's belly than will sup a flea. e north pole, I do challenge thee.

not fight with a pole, like a northern man 33; I'll slash; I'll do sword:-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

for the incensed worthies.

o it in my shirt.

resolute Pompey!

ter, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey ng for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation. emen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt. may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.

bloods, I both may and will.

it reason have you for 't?

aked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go wool ward for

penance a.

e, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen since when, sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a xt his heart, for a favour.

wanting the shirt, so as to leave the woollen cloth of the outer coat next the skin.

tion of satires we have

"And when his shirt 's a washing, then he must

Go woolward for the time."