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the word is well cull'd, choice, fweet, and apt, I do affure you, Sir, I do affure.

Arm. Sir, the King is a noble gentleman, and my familiar; I do affure you, my very good friend; for what is inward between us, let it pass- I do befeech thee, remember thy curtefy- -I beseech thee, apparel thy head,— -and among other importunate and moft ferious defigns, and of great import indeed too —but let that pass :—for I must tell thee, it will please his Grace (by the world) fometime to lean upon my poor fhoulder, and with his royal finger thus dally with my excrement, with my muftachio; but, fweet heart, let that pafs. By the world, I recount no fable; fome certain fpecial honours it pleaseth his Greatness to impart to Armado, a foldier, a man of travel, that hath feen the world; but let that pafs-the very all of all is-but, fweet heart, I do implore fecrecy-that the King would have me prefent the Princefs (fweet chuck) with fome delightful oftentation, or fhow, or pageant, or antic, or fire-work. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at fuch eruptions, and sudden breaking out of mirth, (as it were), I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your asfiftance.

Hol. Sir, You fhall present before her the nine worthies. Sir, as concerning fome entertainment of time, fome fhow in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our affiftants at the King's command, and this most gallant, illuftrate, and learned Gentleman, before the Princess: I say, none fo fit as to present the nine worthies.

Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?

Hol. Jofhua, yourself; this gallant man, Judas Maccabeus; this fwain (because of his great limb or joint) fhall pafs Pompey the Great; and the page, Hercules.

Arm. Pardon, Sir, error; he is not quantity enough for that worthy's thumb: he is not fo big as the end of his club.

Hol. Shall I have audience? he fhall prefent Hercules in minority; his Enter and Exit fhall be ftran

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gling a fnake; and I will have an apology for that purpofe.

Moth. An excellent device: for if any of the audience hifs, you may cry; "Well done, Hercules, now "thou crusheft the fnake;" that is the way to make an offence gracious, tho' few have the grace to do it. Arm. For the reft of the worthies,

Hol. I will play three myself.
Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!
Arm. Shall I tell you a thing?

Hol. We attend.

Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I befeech you, follow.

Hol. Via! good-man Dull, thou haft spoken no word all this while.

Dull. Nor understood none neither, Sir.

Hol. Allons; we will employ thee.

Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or fo: or I will play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them dance the hay.

Hol. Moft dull, honeft, Dull, to our sport away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Before the Princess's pavilion. Enter Princess, and Ladies.

Prin. Sweet hearts, we fhall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in.

A lady wall'd about with diamonds!

Look you, what I have from the loving King.

Rof. Madam, came nothing elfe along with that? Prin. Nothing but this? yes, as much love in rhime, As would be cramm'd up in a fheet of paper, Writ on both fides the leaf, margent and all; That he was fain to feal on Cupid's name.

Rof. That was the way to make his godhead wax, For he hath been five thousand years a boy. Cath. Ay, and a threwd unhappy gallows too. Rof. You'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd your fifter.

Cath. He made her melancholy, fad and heavy, And fo fhe died; had she been light, like you,

Of fuch a merry, nimble, ftirring fpirit,

She might have been a grandam ere the dy'd.
And fo may you; for a light heart lives long.

Rof. What's your dark meaning, moufe, of this light

word?

Cath. A light condition, in a beauty dark.

Rof. We need more light to find your meaning out. Cath. You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuff : Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.

Rof. Look, what you do; and do it ftill i' th' dark. Cath. So do not you, for you are a light wench. Rof. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light. Cath. You weigh me not; O, that's, you care not for me.

Rof. Great reafon; for paft cure is ftill paft care. Prin. Well bandied both; a fet of wit well play'd. But, Rofaline, you have a favour too. Who fent it? and what is it?

Rof. I would you knew.

And if my face were but as fair as your's,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verfes too, I thank Biron.
The numbers true, and were the numb'ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.

O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter.

Prin. Any thing like?

Rof. Much in the letters, nothing in the praife.
Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclufion.
Cath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

Rof. Ware pencils*. How? let me not die your debter,

My red dominical, my golden letter.

O, that your face were not fo full of Oes!

Cath. Pox of that jeft, and I beshrew all shrews. Prin. But what was fent to you from fair Dumain? Cath. Madam, this glove.

Prin. Did he not send you twain ?

Cath. Yes, Madam; and moreover,

Some thousand verfes of a faithful lover.

* Meaning to check Catharine for her painting, pencil being a painting-brush.

A huge tranflation of hypocrify,

Vildly compil'd, profound fimplicity.

Mar. This, and thefe pearls, to me fent Longaville; The letter is too long by half a mile.

Prin. I think no lefs; doft thou not wish in heart, The chain were longer, and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part. Prin. We are wife girls, to mock our lovers for't. Ref. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That fame Biron I'll torture ere I go.

O, that I knew he were but in by th' week!
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and feek,
And wait the feason, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootlefs rhimes,
And shape his fervice all to my behests,

And make him proud to make me proud with jefts :
So portent-like * would I o'er-fway his ftate,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate †.

Prin. None are fo furely caught, when they are
catch'd,

As wit turn'd fool; folly, in wifdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school ;
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

Rof. The blood of youth burns not in such excess, As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

Mar. Folly in fools bears not fo ftrong a note,
As fool'ry in the wife, when wit doth doat:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove, by wit, worth in fimplicity..

SCENE IV. Enter Boyet.

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Boyet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter; where's her Grace?

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet. Prepare, Madam, prepare.

Arm, wenches, arm; encounters mounted are

Against your peace; love doth approach difguis'd,

Armed in arguments; you'll be furpris'd.

*Portents have been always look'd upon not only as the tokens and fignals, but the inftruments alfo of destiny.

See vol. 1. p. 287. note 2.

Mufter your wits, ftand in your own defence,
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence."

Prin. Saint Dennis, to Saint Cupid! what are they
That charge their breath against us? fay, fcout, fay.
Boyet. Under the cool fhade of a fycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes fome half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd reft,
Toward that fhade, I might behold, addrest
The King and his companions; warily
I ftole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you fhall overhear;
That, by and by, difguis'd they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,

That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage.
Action and accent did they teach him there;
Thus muft thou speak, and thus thy body bear;
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Prefence majestical would put him out:

;

For, quoth the King, an angel fhalt thou fee
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.
The boy reply'd, An angel is not evil;
I'fhould have fear'd her, had fhe been a devil.-
With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.

One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd, and fwore,
A better fpeech was never spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd, Via! we will do't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd, and cry'd, All goes well.
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With fuch a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this fpleen ridiculous appears,

To check their folly, paffion's folemn tears.

Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us ? Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparell'd thus, Like Mufcovites, or Ruffians, as I guefs.

Their purpofe is to parley, court, and dance
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his fev'ral miftrefs; which they'll know,
By favours fev'ral, which they did beftow.
VOL. II.

R

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