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Boyet. They will, they will, God knows; Prin. This field shall hold me, and so hold your And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

King. Rebuke me not for that which you proPrin. How blow? how blow? speak to be under

voke; stood.

The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should bud:

have spoke, Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown, For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,

As the unsullied lily, I protest, If they return in their own shapes to woo ?

A world of torments though I should endure, Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, I would not yield to be your house's guest; Let's mock them still, as well, known, as disguis'd. || So much I hate a breaking cause to be Let us complain to them what fools were here, Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;

King. O! you have liv'd in desolation here, And wonder, what they were, and to what end

Unseen, unvisited; much to our shame. Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear : And their rough carriage so ridiculous,

We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game. Should be presented at our tent to us.

A mess of Russians left us but of late. Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at King. How, madam! Russians ? hand.


Ay, in truth, my lord; Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.

[Exeunt PRINCESS, R03., Kath., and Maria. Ros. Madam, speak true.—It is not so, my lord : Enter the King, Biron, LONGAVILLE, and

My lady (to the manner of the days)

In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
DUMAINE, in their proper habits.

We four, indeed, confronted were with four King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the In Russian habit; here they stay'd an hour, princess ?

And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, Boyet. Gone to her tent: please it your majesty, They did not bless us with one happy word. Command me any service to her thither ?

I dare not call them fools; but this I think, King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. word.

Biron. This jest is dry to me.-Fair, gentle sweet, Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,

[Erit. With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas, By light we lose light: your capacity And utters it again when God doth please.

Is of that nature, that to your huge store He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares

Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs ; Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,

ye, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve:

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.

It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. A' can carve too, and lisp : why, this is he,

Biron. O! I am yours, and all that I possess. That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy :

Ros. All the fool mine? This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,


I cannot give you less. That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice

Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore ! In honourable terms: nay, he can sing

Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,


this? Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet; Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. This is the flower that smiles on every one,

That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. To show his teeth as white as whales bone;

King. We are descried: they'll mock us now And consciences, that will not die in debt,

downright. Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highheart,

ness sad? That put Armado's page out of his part !

Ros. Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. Why

look you pale ? — Enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; ROSALINE,

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
Maria, KATHARINE, and Attendants.

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for Biron. See where it comes !-Behaviour, what

perjury. wert thou,

Can any face of brass hold longer out?Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; day!

Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; Prin. Fair in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.

Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. And I will wish thee never more to dance, Prin. Then wish me better: I will give you leave. Nor never more in Russian habit wait. King. We came to visit you, and purpose now O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it, then. Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue;


Sor never come in visor to my friend;

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song; 'Tatřata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pild hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical: these summer flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. 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. Sans SANS, I pray you.

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


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.

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

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: Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. King. Despise me, when I break this oath of

mine. Prin. I will; and therefore keep it.—Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear ?

Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear 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,


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;
And lord Biron, 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.

Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some

That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
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

You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have

Enter CostaRD.
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.

Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Whether the three Worthies shall come in, or no.

Biron. What, are there but three?

No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.

Aud 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, sır; we

know what we know :
I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, —

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 mine own part, I am, as they say, but to perfect 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 Pompey 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

[Erit Costar.. 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

King. I say, they shall not come.
Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you

That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,

some care.

Their form confounded makes most form in mirth; Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tenderWhen great things labouring perish in their birth.

smelling knight. Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord. Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed,

good Alexander. Enter ARMADO.

Nath. “When in the world I liv'd, I was the Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of

world's commander;"— thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. Boyet. Most true; 'tis right: you were so, Alis[ARMADO converses with the King, and

ander. delivers a paper to him.

Biron. Pompey the great, Prin. Doth this man serve God?

Cost. Your servant, and Costard. Biron. Why ask you ?

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Prin. A' speaks not like a man of God's making.

Alisander. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey mo Cost. O! sir,—[ To Nath.]—you have overthrown narch; for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding Alisander the conqueror. You will be scraped out fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain : but we will of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! Ajax : he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror,

[Exit ARMADO. and afеard to speak? run away for shame, Alisander. King. Here is like to be a good presence of — [Nath. retires.]—There, an't shall please you: a Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alex soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, ander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Ju faith, and a very good bowler; but, for Alisander, das Maccabeus.

alas ! you see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted.-But And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, there are Worthies a coming will speak their mind These four will change habits, and present the other in some other sort. five.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.
Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceived; 'tis not so.

Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas; and Moth Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge

armed, for Hercules. priest, the fool, and the boy :

Hol. “Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again, Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

canis; King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, amain.

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. [Seats brought for the King, Princess, etc. Quoniam, he seemeth in minority,

Ergo, I come with this apology."-
Pageant of the Nine Worthies.

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.
Enter CostaRD armed, for Pompey.

(Erit Mota. Cost. "I Pompey am,"'

- Judas I am,”Boyet. You lie, you are not he.

Dum. A Judas! Cost. “ I Pompey am,”:

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. Boyet.

With libbard's head on knee. “ Judas I am, yclep'd Maccabeus.” Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be

Dum. Judas Maccabeus clipt is plain Judas. friends with thee.

Biron. A kissing traitor.—How art thou provid

Judas? Cost. “I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the

Hol. “ Judas I am," — big," — Dum. The great.

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. Cost. It is great, sir ; Pompey surnam'd the

Hol. What mean you, sir? great;

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make

Hól. Begin, sir: you are my elder. foe to sweat:

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

elder. And travelling along this coast I here am come by chance,

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass

Biron. Because thou hast no face. of France."

Hol. What is this? If your ladyship would say, " Thanks, Pompey,” I

Boyet. A cittern head. had done.

Dum. The head of a bodkin. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Biron. A death's face in a ring. Cost. 'Tis not so much worth ; but, I hope, I was

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce perfect. I made a little fault in, “great.' Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves

Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion. the best Worthy.

Dum. The carvid-bone face on a flask.

Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch. Enter Sir NATHANIEL armed, for Alexander.

Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. Nath. “When in the world I liv'd, I was the Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. world's commander;

And now forward, for we have put thee in counteBy east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:

Hol. You have put me out of countenance. My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander.” Biron. False : we have given thee faces. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all. stands too right.

Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.



Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. Prin. Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been 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 :-

Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector.
Jud-as, away.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles : here comes
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Hector in arms.
Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas! it grows dark, Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I
he may stumble.

will now be merry.

[graphic][merged small]

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?
King. I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector's.
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

Gave Hector a gift,” —

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Biron. A lemon.
Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace!
" The armipotent Mars, 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,"'-

That mint.

That columbine. Am. 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 breathed, he was a man.-But I will for

ward with my device. Sweet royalty, 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,”

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.

Årın. 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!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is moved.—More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if a' have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.


Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours

Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern Even to the opposed end of our intents; man : I'll slash ; I'll do it by the sword.—I pray And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,you, let me borrow my arms again.

As love is full of unbefitting strains ; Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies !

All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Form’d by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye, Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of forms, Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for To every varied object in his glance: the combat? What mean you? you will lose your Which party-coated presence of loose love reputation.

Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will Have misbecome our oaths and gravities, not combat in my shirt.

Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, the challenge.

Our love being yours, the error that love makes Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Is likewise yours : we to ourselves prove false, Biron. What reason have you for't?

By being once false for ever to be true Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you: I go woolward for penance.

And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of love ; wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's, and Your favours, the ambassadors of love; that a' wears next his heart for a favour.

And, in our maiden council, rated them Enter Monsieur MERCADE, a Messenger.

At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,

As bombast, and as lining to the time. Mer. God save you, madam.

But more devout than this, in our respects Prin. Welcome, Mercade,

Have we not been; and therefore met your loves But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

In their own fashion, like a merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much mor Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father

than jest. Prin. Dead, for my life!

Long. So did our looks. Mer. Even so: my tale is told.


We did not quote them so. Biron. Worthies, away! The scene begins to King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, cloud.

Grant us your loves. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. Prin.

A time, methinks, too short I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole To make a world-without-end bargain in. of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,

[Exeunt Worthies. Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this.King. How fares your majesty ?

If for my love (as there is no such cause) Prin. Boyet, prepare: I will away to-night. You will do aught, this shall you do for me : King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed Prin. Prepare, I say.--I thank you, gracious To some forlorn and naked hermitage, lords,

Remote from all the pleasures of the world; For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,

There stay, until the twelve celestial signs Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe

Have brought about their annual reckoning. In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,

If this austere insociable life The liberal opposition of our spirits :

Change not your offer made in heat of blood; If over-boldly we have borne ourselves

If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds, In the converse of breath, your gentleness

Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!

But that it bear this trial, and last love; A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue.

Then, at the expiration of the year, Excuse me so. coming too short of thanks

Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

And by this virgin palin, now kissing thine, King. The extreme parts of time extremely forın I will be thine ; and, till that instant, shut All causes to the purpose of his speed;

My woful self up in a mourning house,
And often, at his very loose, decides

Raining the tears of lamentation,
That which long process could not arbitrate : For the remembrance of my father's death.
And though the mourning brow of progeny

If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love

Neither intitled in the other's heart. The holy suit which fain it would convince;

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

The sudden hand of death close up mine eye. From what it purpos’d; since, to wail friends lost Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,

[Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

me? Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank: Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear You are attaint with faults and perjury ; of grief;

Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, And by these badges understand the king.

A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, For your fair sakes have we neglected time, But seek the weary beds of people sick.) Play'd foul play with our oaths : your beauty, ladies, Dum. But what to me, my love ? but what to me?

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