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Biron. And three times three is nine ?
Coft. Not fo, 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, three times thrice, Sir
Biron. Is not nine.
Coft. 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?
Col. O lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will shew whereuntil it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as they say, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, Sir.
Biren. Art'thou one of the worthjes?
Coft. 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.
King. Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach.
[Exit Colt. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord ; and 'tis some
policy To have one Show worse than the King's and his Com.
Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now;
Biran, A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter Enter Armado, Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expence of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.
Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch ;: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical 3: too, too vain; too, too vain : but we will put it; as they fay, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, moft royal coupplement:
King. Here is like to be a good presence of Wor-
Biron. There are five in the first Show.
the fool, and the boy.
Enter Costard for Pompey.
Biron. Well said, old mocker : I must needs be: friends with thee.
Coff. I Pompey am, Pompey furnam'd the Big.
Coft. It is Great, Sir ; Pompey, Jurnam'd the Great';
Ind travelling along this coast, I bere am come by And lay my arms before the legs of this fweet Lass of
France. If your ladyship would say, " thanks, -- Pompey, I had
done. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.
Coff. 'Jis not so much worth ; but, I hope, I was perfect. I made a little fault in great.
Biron. My hat to a half. penny, Pompey proves the beft Worthy
Enter Nathaniel for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's
Commander; By eaft, weft, north and fouth, I spread my conquering
might: My 'Sextcbeon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Bozet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it lands
too right. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, moft tender fmel
ling Knight Prin. The
Conqueror is dismaid : 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, Alifander. Biron. Pompey the Great, Coff. Your servant, and Coftard.
Biron. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alifander.
Cot. O Sir, you have overthrown Alifander the Conqueror. (to Nath.] You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this ; your lion, that holds the poll-ax fitting on a close ftool, will be given to A-jax ; he will be then the ninth Worthy. A Conqueror, and afraid to Speak? run away for shame, Alijander. There, an't fhall please you ; a foolish mild man; an honeft man, look you, and soon dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth, and a very good bowler ; but for
Alifander, alas, you see, how 'tis a little o'er parted: but there are Worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other fort.
Birox. Stand afide, good Pompey.
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canusa And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus :
Hol. Judas I am.
Hol. Not Iscariot, Sir;
Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.
Birom Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer ; And now, forward; for we have put thee in counte
Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biror. False; we have given thee faces.
have out-fac'd them all.
Boyet. Therefore as he is an afs, let him go.
Dum. For the latter end of his name.
away. Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur J udas; it grows dark, he may
ftumble. Prin. Alas! poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited!
Enter Armado. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes He&or
Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
King. Hector was but a Trojax in respect of this.
Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.
Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift,
Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of llion;
From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.
Dum. That mint.