And, when he was a babe, 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. Hol. Judas I am,' Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. 'Judas I am, ycleped1 Machabæus.' [Exit Moth. Dum. Judas Machabæus clipped, is plain Judas. Bir. A kissing traitor.-How art thou proved Judas? Boy. To make Judas hang himself. Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder. Bir. Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. Bir. Because thou hast no face. Hol. What is this? Boy. A cittern 2 head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Bir. A death's face in a ring. Lon. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. 1 Called. SHAK. 2 A cittern was a kind of harp. III. X Boy. The pommel of Cæsar's falchion. Bir. Ay, and worn in the cap of a toothdrawer: And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun tenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Bir. False; we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have outfaced them all. Bir. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. let him go. Boy. Therefore, as he is, an ass, And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name. : Bir. For the ass to the Jude; give it him : Jud-as, away. Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boy. 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. Bir. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms. 1 A soldier's powder-horn. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Boy. But is this Hector? Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timbered. Lon. His leg is too big for Hector. Dum. More calf, certain. Boy. No; he is best indued in the small. Bir. This cannot be Hector. Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances 1 almighty, Gave Hector a gift,'— Dum. A gilt nutmeg. Bir. A lemon. Lon. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. Peace! The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; the A man so breathed, that certain he would fight yea, From morn till night, out of his pavilion. I am that flower,' Dum. Lon. That mint. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 1 i. e. of lancemen. Lon. 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 forward with my device. Sweet royalty, [to the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. Prin. Speak, brave lighted. [Biron whispers Costard. Hector; we are much de Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boy. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,' Cos. The party is gone, fellow Hector; she is gone; she is two months on her way. Arm. What meanest thou? Cos. 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. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die, Cos. Then shall Hector be whipped, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hanged, for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey ! Boy. Renowned Pompey! Bir. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Bir. Pompey is moved.-More Ates,1 more Ates! stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Bir. 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. Cos. 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.3 Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Cos. 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. Bir. What reason have you for 't?· Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt: I go woolward for penance. 4 1 More instigation. Ate was the goddess of discord. 2 A clown. 3 The weapons and armour which he wore in the character of Pompey. 4 With woollen next the skin. |