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: ROSA-
LINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.
Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour,
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
may.

Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose

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

game;

A mess of Russians left us but of late. King. How, madam? Russians ? Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord;

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 downright.

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:

rance;

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,
Figures pedantical; these summer-flies

Three-pil'd byperboles, spruce affectation,

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:

I do forswear them and 1 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

three;

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

eyes:

These lords are visited; you are not free,

lord:

My lady, (to the manner of the days, 1)
In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted here with four
In Russian habit; here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word,
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have
drink.

Biron. This jest is dry to me-Fair, gentle sweet,

Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet

With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: Your capacity

Is of that nature, that to your huge store

Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us.

Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.

Ros. It is not so; For how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue ? Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with

you. Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an

lass of France.

If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I had done.

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: [ander. My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am AlisBoyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most

tender-smelling knight.

Biron. Pompey the great.

Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. O Sir, [To NATH.] you have overthrown 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 Moth armed, for Hercules.

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

Boyet. A cittern head.

Dum. The head of a bodkiu.

Biron. A death's face in a ring.

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce

seen.

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

drawer:

And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

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. An 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
stay ?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him;-

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 cleantimber'd.

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.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the

almighty,

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.

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.

Dum. That mint.

Long. That columbine.

Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it

Judas I am, ycleped Machabaus.

Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judus

Biron. A kissing traitor:-How art thou

prov'd Judas ?

Hol. Judas I am,

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.

Hol. What mean you, Sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hol Begin, Sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on

an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.

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 her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hanni.

bal,

is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What ineanest thou ?

Cost. 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.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him.

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;

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

And by these badges understand the king.

Boyet. Renowned Pompey I

For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Pompey, Pompey the huge !

Dum. Hector trembles.

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

As love is full of unbefitting strains:

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.

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. 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. 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-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. 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.

lords,

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 porne 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

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
To every varied object in his glance:
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 follo

love;

Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in;
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 inade in heat of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin

weeds, ‡

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 kissing 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 hand of death close up mine eye 1 Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what

to me?

Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are

rank;

You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. But to what to me, my love? but what to me?

Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty;

With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Dum. O shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a day

I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers

say:

Come when the king doth to my lady come, Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.

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

long.

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

be,

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 ?

King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and

a day,

And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a play.
Enter ARMADO.

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 Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But most esteemed greatness, will you hear 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.

Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOтн,
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.

Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his
nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in

pail.

When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,

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

saw,