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To have one show worse than the King's and
his company. King. Is
say they shall not come. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you That sport best pleases that doth seast know
how ; Where zeal strives to content, and the con
tents 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. Bir. A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter Braggart (ARMADO). Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.
(Converses apart with the King, and
delivers him a paper.] Prin. Doth this man serve God ? Bir. Why ask you ?
Prin. 'A speaks not like a man of God's making.
Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey [640 monarch ; for, I protest, 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 the peace of mind, most royal couplement !
(Exit. 656 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. Bir. There is five in the first show. King. You are deceived ; 't is not so.
Bir. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge- (645 priest, the fool, and the boy: Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world
again Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his
vein. King. The ship is under sail, and here she
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 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
[To Boyet.) Forestall 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
shroud. You leer upon me, do you? There's an eye 480 Wounds like a leaden sword. Boyet.
Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run, Bir. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
Enter Clown (COSTARD). Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
Bir. What, are there but three ?
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
And three times thrice 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, sir, three times thrice, sir,
Bir. Is not nine.
Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
Bir. By Jove, I always took three threes (195 for nine.
Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.
Bir. How much is it?
Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth (600 amount. For mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.
Bir. Art thou one of the Worthies ?
Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great ; for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
Bir. Go, bid them prepare. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.
(Exit. King. Biron, they will shame us; let them
not approach, Bir. We are shame-proof, my lord; and 't is
Enter (COSTARD, for] Pompey.
You lie, you are not he.
be friends with thee. Cost. "I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the
** Pompey surnamed the Great; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did
make my foe to sweat ;
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, Pom
pey," 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."
Bir. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy. Enter Curate (SIR NATHANIEL], 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 Alisan
der," Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it
stands too right. Bir. 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
Bir. Take away the conqueror, take away (575 Alisander.
Cost. (To Sir Nath.] 0, sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a close- [580 stool, will be given to Ajax; he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afеard to speak! Run away for shame, Alisander. (Nath. retires.] There, an 't shall please you, à foolish mild man, an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, (685 and a very good bowler; but, for Alisander, alas, you see how 't is, - a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort. (Exit Curate. 690
Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter Pedant (HOLOFERNES), for Judas, and
the Boy (Moth), for Hercules. Hd. “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,
Thns did he strangle serpents in his manus. 595 Quoniam he seemeth in minority, Ergo I come with this apology. (Aside.) Keep some state in thy exit, and van
(Moth retires.) * Judas I amn,"
Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. ** Judas I am, yeliped Maccabæus."
Dum. JO accabæus clipt is plain Judag.
Bir. A kissing traitor. How art thou prov'd
Judas I am,
elder. Hol. I will not be put out of countenance. Bir. Because thou hast no face. Hol. What is this? Boyet. A cittern-head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Bir. A Death's face in a ring. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce
seen. Boyet. The pommel of Cæsar's falchion. Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. Bir. Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. 620 Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. Bir. 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. Bir. False ; we have given thee faces. Ho. But you bave out-fac'd them all. Bir. 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. Bir. 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. (Hol. retires.) Prin. Alas, poor Maccabæus, how hath he
been baited! Enter Braggart (ARMADO, for Hector). Bir. Hide thy bead, Achilles ; here comes (635 Hector in arms.
Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this 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.
Arm. Peace! “The armipotent Mars, of lences the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion ; A man so breathed, that certain he would fight,
From morn till night, out of his pavilion, Boo 1 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. (To the Princess.] Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,'
Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.
Arm. What meanest thou ? Cost. Faith,' unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench is cast away. She's quick; the child brags in her belly already.
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.
Dum. Most rare Pompey! Boyet. Renowned Pompey! Bir. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!
Pompey the Huge ! Dum. Hector trembles.
Bir. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector will challenge him.
Bir. Ay, if 'a have no more man's blood in his 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 (700 northern man; I'll slash ; I'll do it by tho sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arins 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 bath made the challenge.
Arm, Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in Rame 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 (720 for a favour.
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur MERCADE.
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;
Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King, your father
Prin. Dead, for my life!
Bir. 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. [Ereunt Worthies. 736
King. How fares your majesty ?
stay. Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious
lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Qut 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 745 Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord ! A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks For my great suit so easily obtain'd. King. The extreme parts of time extremely
forms 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 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 purpos'd ; 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 Bir. Honest plain words best pierce the ear
of grief; And by these badges understand the King. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, 785 Play'd foul play with our oaths. Your beauty,
ladies, Hath much deformed us, fashioning our hu
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
eye, Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
We to ourselves prove false,
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, madam, show'd much
more than jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros.
We did not quote themi so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant as 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: 801 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 Have brought about the annual reckoning.. If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood ; 810 If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, But that it bear this trial, and last love; Then, at the expiration of the year, Come challenge me, 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. 820 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! 825
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. (Bir. And what to me, my love ? and what
to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are
racked, 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 what to me, my love ? but what
to me? A wife?
Kath. 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 ye 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.
Bir. 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
Biron, 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. Bir. 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
spirit, 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 hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it ; then, if sickly ears, Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear
groans, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, And I will have you and that fault withal ; But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation. Bir. Å twelvemonth! Well, befall what will
befall, I'll jest a twelvemonth in a hospital. Prin. (To the King.) Ay, sweet my lord ;
and so I take my leave.
King. No, madam; we will bring you on
your way. Bir. Our wooing doth not end like an old
play; Jack hath not Jill. These ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy, King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and
a day, And then 't will end. Bir.
That's too long for a play. Re-enter Braggart (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 year. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men bave compiled in praise of the owl and the (895 cuckoo ? It should have followed in the end of our show.
King. Call them forth quickly; we will Arm. Holla ! approach.
Enter all. This side is Hiems, Winter; this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
THE SONG. Spring. When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
Do paint the meadows with delight,
Mocks married men ; for thus sings he,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, 915
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw
And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl,
• Tu-whit, tu-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 : (04 we this way.