Rug. 'Tis paft the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet. Caius. By gar, he has fave his foul, dat he is no come; he has pray his pible well, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come. Rug. He is wife, Sir; he knew, your worship would kill him, if he came. Caius. By gar, de herring is not fo dead as me vill make him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I will kill him. Rug. Alas, Sir, I cannot fence. Enter Hoft, Shallow, Slender and Page. Hoft. 'Blefs thee, bully Doctor. Shal. 'Save you, Mr. Doctor Caius. Page. Now, good Mr. Doctor. Slen. Give you good morrow, Sir. Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? Hoft. To fee thee fight, to see thee foigne, to fee thee traverse, to fee thee here, to fee thee there, to fee thee pass thy puncto, thy ftock, thy reverse, thy diftance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Françoyes? ha, bully? what fays my Efculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha? is he dead, bully-ftale? is he dead? Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack-Priest of de vorld; he is not show his face. Hoft. Thou art a Caftalion-king-Urinal: Hector of Greece, my boy. Caius. I pray you bear witness, that me have stay fix or feven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. Shal. He is the wiser man, Mr. 4 Quarto Edition, 1619, T Doctor; he is a curer To Mr. Pope. of of fouls, and you a curer of bodies: if you fhould fight, you go against the hair of your profeffions: Is it not true, master Page? Page. Mafter Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, tho' now a man of peace. ? Shal. Body-kins, Mr. Page, tho' I now be old, and of peace, if I fee a fword out, my finger itches to make one; tho' we are juftices, and doctors, and churchmen, Mr. Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the fons of women, Mr. Page. Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow. Shal. It will be found fo, Mr. Page. Mr. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home; I am fworn of the peace; you have fhew'd yourself a wife physician, and Sir Hugh hath fhown himself a wife and patient church-man: you muft go with me, Mr. Doctor. Hoft. Pardon, gueft-juftice; a word, Monfieur mock-water. Caius. Mock-vater? vat is dat? Hoft. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. Caius. By gar, then I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman, fcurvy-jack-dog-prieft; by gar, me vill cut his ears. Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. Hoft. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look, he fhall clapper-de-claw me; for by gar, me vill have it. Hoft. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Hoft. And moreover, bully: but first, Mr. Guest, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? Hoft. He is there; fee, what humour he is in; and I will bring the Doctor about the fields: will it do well? Shal. We will do it. All. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor. [Exeunt Page, Shallow and Slender. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de prieft; for he fpeak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. Hoft. Let him die; but, firft, fheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; 5 I will bring thee where miftrefs Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feafting; and thou fhalt woo her. Cry aim, faid I well? 5 will bring thee where Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feafting; and thou shalt woo her, CRY'D GAME; said I well?] Mr. Theobald alters this nonfenfe to try'd game; that is, to nonfenfe of a worse complexion. Shakespear wrote and pointed thus, CRY AIM, Jaid I well? i. e. confent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good propofal? for to cry aim fignifies to confent to, or approve of any thing. So again in this play, p. 300, And to thefe violent proceedings all my neighbours fhall CRY AIM, i. e. approve them. And again in King John, A& 2. Scene 2, It ill becomes this prefence to CRY AIM To thefe ill-tuned repetitions, . . . to approve of, or encourage them. The phrafe was taken, originally, from archery. When any one had challenged another to fhoot at the butts (the perpetual diverfion, as well as exercife, of that time) the ftanders-by ufed to fay one to the other, Cry aim, i, e. accept the challenge. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Fair maid of the inn, Act 5, make the Duke fay, - must I cry AIME To this unheard of infolence ie. encourage it, and agree to the request of the duel, which one of his fubjects had infolently demanded against the other. But here it is remarkable, that the fenfelefs editors not knowing what to make of the phrase Cry aim, read it thus, 4 must 1 cry AI-ME: As if it was a note of interjection. So again Mainger in his Guardian, And again, in his Renegado, to play the Pandor To the Viceroy's loofe embraces, and CRY AIM, But the Oxford Editor transforms it to Cock o' th' Game; and his improvements of Shakespear's language abound with these modern elegancies of fpeech, fuch as Mynheers, Bull-baitings, &c. W Caius. By gar, me tank you vor dat: by gar, I love you; and I fhall procure 'a you de good gueft; de Earl, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients. Hoft. For the which I will be thy adverfary toward Anne Page: faid I well? Caius. By gar, 'tis good; vell faid. -Hoft. Let us wag then. Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Frogmore, near Windfor. Enter Evans and Simple, EVANS. I after Slender's fervingman, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you look'd for mafter Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Phyfick? Simp. Marry, Sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, every way, old Windfor way, and every way but the town way. Eva. I moft fehemently defire you, you will also look that way. Simp. I will, Sir. Eva. 'Plefs my foul, how full of chollars I am, and trempling of mind! I fhall be glad, if he have deceiv'd me; how melanchollies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's coftard, when I have good opportunities for the orke: 'Plefs my foul! ? [Sings, being afraid. By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls By fhallow-Mercy on me! I have a great difpofitions to cry. Melodious birds fing madrigalls -When as I fat in Pabilon; and a thousand vragrant pofies. By fhallow,. &c. Simp. By fhallow rivers, &c] This is part of a beautiful little poem of the author's, which poem, and the answer to it, the reader will not be difpleased to find here. The Paffionate Shepherd to his Love. Live with me, and be my Love, The |