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This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he,
That, kiss'd away his hand in courtesy:
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whales' bone: +
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my beart,

That put Armado's page out of his part!

Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET: ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants. Biron. See where it comes!-Bebaviour, what wert thou,

Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?

King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

King. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you

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have spoke ;

For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest:
So much I hate a breaking-cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear:
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant


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Ros. But that you take what doth to you be long,

It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. Biron. Oh! I am your's, and all that I pos


Ros. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you less.

Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore ?

Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this?

Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case,

That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they mock us now


Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your highness sad?

Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale ?Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.

Can any face of brass hold longer out?— Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me ;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout:

Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my igno


Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Russian babit wait. Oh! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,

Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend; •

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song:

Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, 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.
Biron. 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


They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plegue, and caught it of your

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Some fair excuse.

Prin. The fairest is confession.

Were you not here, but even now disguis'd?
King. Madam, I was.

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

Prin. 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.

• Mistress

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 for


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

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

Most honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.

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 my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect 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 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. Cost. We will turn it finely off, Sir; we will take some care. [Exit COSTARD. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach.

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy

Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it To have one show worse than the king's and his plain,

You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, the princess I did


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, t
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment,)
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight
zany, t

Some numble-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,

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.

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company. King. I say they shall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now;

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,
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.


Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.

[ARMADO converses with the KING, and
delivers him a paper.]

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making.

Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is ex ceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain : But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit ARMADO.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus.

And if these four worthies in their first show thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the

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+ Conspiracy.


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Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander.
Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was
the world's commander:

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my
conquering might:
My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alis-
Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for
it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most
tender-smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd; 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,

Biron. Pompey the great.

Cost. Your servant, and Costárd.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Biron. Because thou hast no face.
Hol. What is this?

Boyet. A cittern head.

Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Biron. A death's face in a ring.

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce


Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion,
Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. •
Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch. †
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-

And now, forward; for we have put thee in


Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron. Au thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou

Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him;

Jud-as, away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas; it grows dark, he may stumble.

Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath be
been baited!

Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector.
Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes
Hector in arms.

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me,
I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.

Boyct. But is this Hector?

Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean.

Long. His leg is too big for Hector.
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.

Cost. O Sir, [To NATH.] you have over-timber'd. thrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a closestool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man ; au 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 see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted :-But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and
MоTH armed, for Hercules.

Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this

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

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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 pavalion.
I am that flower,-

Dum. That mint.

Long. That columbine.

Arm. 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 breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the PRINCESS.] 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 ber by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hanni. bal,

• A soldier's powder-horn.

An ornamental buckle for fastening hat-hands, ke. 1 Lance-men.

Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she | Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, is goue; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the bonest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou iufamonize 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 !

The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, [lost,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double.

Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;

And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty,ladies, Pompey, Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

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Hath much deforin'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:

Biron. Pompey is mov'd :-More Ates, more And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,--
Ates; stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.

As love is full of unbefitting strains:
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain :
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
nor-To every varied object in his glance:

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a thern man; + I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword. I pray you let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey !

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-bole 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. Biron. What reason bave you for't? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.


Mer. God save you, madam !

Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make; Therefore, ladies,
Our love being your's, the error that love makes
Is likewise your's: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that inake us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters foll o love ;

Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your

In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much
more than jest.

Long. So did our looks.

Ros. We did not quote them so.

King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I Grant us your loves. bring,

Prin. A time methinks, too short

Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father-To make a world-without-end bargain in ;
Prin. Dead, for my life.

Mer. Even so; my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins cloud.


Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies.

King. How fares your majesty ?
Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say.—1 thank you, gracious

For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have orne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue :
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks,
For my great suit so easily obtain'd,

King. The extreme parts of time extremely form

All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny

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No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much
Full of dear guiltiness: and, therefore this,-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pieasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning:
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin
weeds, t

Nip not the gaudy blossoms of our love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kiɛsing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden band of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me?

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Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.

Long. What says Maria?

Mar. At the twelvemonth's end,

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is Jong.

Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eye. What humble suit attends thy answer there; Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Before I saw you and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ; Full of comparisons and wounding flouts; Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercy of your wit: To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;

And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, (Without the which I am not to be won,) You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day

Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall

With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of
death ?

It cannot be; it is impossible:

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing


Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that bears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaf'd with the clamour of their own dear +

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Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,Prin. Was not that Hector ? Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vow'd to Jaque. netta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But most esteemed greatness, will you bear the dialogue that the two learned mea have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo ? it should have follow'd in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Arm. Holla! approach.

COSTARD, and others.

This side is hyems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.

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Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-who;

To-whit, to-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. IV.

When all aloud the wind doth blow. And coughing drowns the parson's


And birds sits brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs + hiss in the bowl.
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

To-whit, to-who, a merry note.
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after
the songs of Apollo, You, that way; we, this


• Cool.


↑ Wild apples.

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