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;

Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

Ros. Madam, speak true.-It is not so, my

lord:

My lady (to the manner of the days),
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Russian habit; here they stayed an hour,
And talked 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.-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
poor.

Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my

O! never will I trust to speeches penned, Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend;

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song. Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-piled 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 expressed
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.
Yet I have a trick

Biron.

Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. 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 dear As precious eyesight, 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 lord Most honourably doth uphold his word.

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

I never swore this lady such an oath.

Ros. By heaven you did; and to confirm it plain,

You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give;

I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And Lord Birón, 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 (Knowing aforehand of our merriment), To dash it like a Christmas comedy:

Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight

zany,

Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some
Dick,-

That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she's disposed,—
Told our intents before: which once disclosed,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, wooed but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again fors worn; in will, and error.
Much upon this it is:—and might not you
[TO BOYET.
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 allowed;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword!

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, sir, 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, sirs, will shew 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 [Exit COSTARD.

take some care.

King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach.

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord and

't is some policy

To have one show worse than the king's and his

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.

Enter ARMADO.

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 exceedingly 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 other five.

Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceived, 't is not so.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedgepriest, the fool, and the boy :

A bare throw at novum; and the whole world again

Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein.

King. The ship is under sail, and here she

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet 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, armed, for Alexander.
NATHANIEL.

When in the world I lived, I was the world's com

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might;

My 'scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander. 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 dismayed: proceed, good Alexander.

NATHANIEL.

When in the world I lived, I was the world's commander;

Boyet. Most true, 't is right; you were so, Alisander.

Biron. Pompey the great,—

Cost.

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

Cost. O, sir [to NATHANIEL], 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 Ajax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATHANIEL retires.] There, an 't shall please you: a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in sooth; 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 MoтH, armed, for Hercules.

HOLOFERNES.

Great Hercules is presented by this imp,

Whose club killed Cerberus, that three-headed

canus ;

And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority;
Ergo, I come with this apology.—

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.
Judas I am,-
[Exit MOTH.

Dum. A Judas!
Hol. Not Iscariot, sir:

Judas I am, ycleped Maccabæus.

Dum. Judas Maccabæus clipt, is plain Judas. Biron. A kissing traitor.-How art thou proved Judas?

HOLOFERNES.

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 followed: Judas was hanged on

an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.

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

seen.

Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion. Dum. The carved-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 toothdrawer:

And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun

tenance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. False; we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have outfaced 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 :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 Maccabæus, how hath he 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. Boyet. But is this Hector?

Dum. I think Hector was not so clean-timbered. Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is best endued in the small. Biron. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

ARMADO.

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 breathed, that certain he would fight, yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

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 breathed, 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.

ARMADO.

This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,

Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

the

Arm. What meanest thou?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonise me among potentates? thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hanged, for Pompey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is moved :-more Ates, more

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 I'll flash; I'll do it by the sword. I pray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.

man.

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 have you for 't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I woolward for penance.

go

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

Enter MERCADE.

Mer. God save you, madam!

Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring

Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life.

Mer. Even so; my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to 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.-I thank you, gracious

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 borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue :
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtained.

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 morning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,
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 purposed; since to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
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,

Played foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies,

Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposéd end of our intents:
And what in us hath seemed ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains ;
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain;
Formed 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 misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have received your letters, full of 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 loves

In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, madan, shewed 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, 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 perjured 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 pleasures of the world; There stay, until the twelve celestial signs