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The ladies did change favours, and then we,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye,
Holding a trencher, jefting merrily ?
Boyet. Full merrily
Biron. Lo, he is tilting strait. Peace, I have done,
Coft. O Lord, Sir, they would know
Biron. What, are there but three?
Cost. No, Sir, but it is vara fine ; For every one pursents three.
Biron. And three times three is nine ?
Cost. Not so, 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 ?
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 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.
Biron. Art thou one of the worthies ?
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.
Coft. We will turn it finely off, Sir, we will take some care.
· King. Biron, they will maine us; let them not approach.
[Exit Coit, Biron. We are fame-proof, my Lord ; and 'tis
fome policy To have one lhow worse than the King's and his comKing. I say, they shall not come.
[pany. Prin. Nay, my good Lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That sport beit pleases, that doth least know how, Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it presents; Their form, confounded, makes most form in mirth; When great things, labouring, perish in their birth, Biron. A right description of our sport, my Lord.
SCENE IX. Enter Armado.
Prin. Doth this man serve God ?
Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I proteft, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain ; too, too vain : but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you
peace of mind, most Royal coupplement.
King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies :
Biron. There are five in the first show. [five,
the fool, and the boy. VOL. II.
A bare throw at novum, and the whole world again
Enter Coftard for Pompey.
Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee.
Coft. I Pompey am, Pompey Jurnam'd the Big.
Coft. It is Great, Sir; Pompey, surnam'd the Great;
Did make my foe to sweat :
Coft. 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in great.
Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pomp-y proves the best worthy.
Enter Nathaniel for Alexander.
Biron. Pompey the Great,
Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alifander.
Cost. O Sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror. [T. Nath.] You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this; your lion, that holds the poll-ax fitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax*; he will be then the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afraid to speak ? run away for shame, Alisander. There, an't fhall please you ; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash’d. He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth, and a very good bowler ; but for Alisander, alas, you fee, how 'tis a little o'erparted: but there are worthies a-coming will fpeak their mind in some other fort,
Biron, 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 :
Hol. Judas I am.
Hol. Not Iscariot, Sir ;
Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.
* A ridicule upon the arms given to Alexander in the history of the nine worthies; and it ends in a wretched quibble upon the words Ajax and A-jakes.
Biron. Well follow'd; Judas was, hang'd on an
Biron. 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.
Poyet. Therefore as he is an ass, 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 Judas; it grows dark, he may
Itumble. Prin. Alas! poor Machabeus, how he hath been
Biron, Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector
Dumn. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.