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Long. I must : rather give it the rein ; for it runs-
against Hector.
Dum. Ay, and Hector's a grey-hound.

Arm. The sweet War man is dead and rotten ;
Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the bury'd:
But I will forward with my device ;
Sweet Royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Prin. Speak, brave Hektor ; we are much delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet Grace's flipper.
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.
Dum. He may not, by the yard,
Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.

Col. The Party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; the is two months on her way.

Arm. What mean't thou ?

Coft. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away ; The's quick, the child brags. in her belly ready. 'Tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die,

Coff. Then shall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him ; and hang'd 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 mov'd; more Ates, more Ates; ftir:

ftir thein on.
Dum. Heftor will challenge him.
Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly
than will fup a flea.

Arm. By the north-pole, I do challenge thee.
Coft. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man :
I'll slath ; I'll do i by the Sword : I pray you, let me
borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incenfed Worthiesia.
Cof. I'll do't in my shirt..
Dum. Moit refolute 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 ge woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoind him in Rome for want of linnen ; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dish-clout

of J aquenetta's, and that he wears next his heart for a Favour.

Enter Macard. Mas, God save you, Madam!

Prin. Welcome, Macard, but that thou interrupteft our merriment.

Mac. I'm sorry, Madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father

Prin Dead, for life.
Mac. Even so: my Tale is told.
Biron. Worthies, away; the Scene begins to cloud.

Arm. For my own part, I breathe free breath ; ! have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my self like a soldier.

[Exeunt Worthiesa King. How fares your Majesty ? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to night. King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.

Prix. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours ; and entreat, Out of a new-fad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide, The liberal opposition of our spirits ; If over. boldly we have borne our felves In the converse of breath, your gentleness Was guilty of it. Farewel, worthy lord ;


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An heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue : (38)
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks,
For my great Suit so easily obtain'd.

King. The extreme part 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 courtelie of love,
The holy suit which fain it would convince ;,
Yet fince love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow juftle it
From what it purposd : Since, to wail friends loft,
Is not by much fo 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 fakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul Play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to th' opposed end of our intents ;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,
As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping in vain,
Form'd by the eye, and therefore like the eye,
-Full of straying Ihapes, 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
Pat on by us, if, in your heav'nly eyes,

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(38) An beavy beart bears not an humble Tongue.] Thus all the Editions ; but surely, without either Sense or Truth. None are more bumble in Speech, than they who labour under any Oppreffion. The Princess is defiring, her Grief may applogize for her not expressing her Obligations at large ; and my Correction is conformable to that Sentiment. Besides, there is an Antirbefis between beavy and nimble ; but between beavy and bumble, there is none.

Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities;

Those heav'nly eyes, that look into these faulte;.
Suggested us to make them : therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours. We to our felves prove false
By being once false, for ever to be true
To those that make us both; fair ladies, you:
And even that fallhood, in it self a fin,
Thus purifies it self, and turns to Grace:

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love ;:
Your Favours, the embassadors of love :
And in our maiden council rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesie;
As bumbalt, and as lining to the time :
But more devout, than these are our respects,
Have we not been ; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, Madam, Thew'd much more than

jeft. Long. So did our looks. Roj. We did not coat them fo.

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 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 mé;:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To fome forlorn and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world ;;
There stay, until the twelve celestial Signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this auftere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fafts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this tryal, and last love ;,
Then, at the expiration of the year,


Come challenge me; challenge me, by these deserts i,
And by this virgin palm, 'now kissing thine,
I will be thine, and 'till that instant shut
My wofal 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 reft ;
The sudden hand of death clofe up mine eye!

Hence, ever then, my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. (39) [And what to me, my love? and what to:

Ros. You must be purged too, your

fins are rank.
You are attaint with fault and perjury ;
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelve-month shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.]

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

Cath. A wife ! a beard, fair health and honesty a With threefold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?

(39) Biron. [ And what to me, my Love? and what to me?
Ror. You must be purged too : your Sims are rank:

You are attaint with Fault and Perjury,
Tberefore if you my Favour mean to get,
A Twelvemontb fall you spend, and never ret;

But seek the weary Beds of People fick.] These fix Verses both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think should be expung'd; and therefore I have put them between Crochets : Not that they were an Interpolation, but as the Author's first Draught, which he afterwards rejected ; and executed the same Thought a little lower with much more Spirit and Elegance. Shakespeare is not to answer for the present absurd repetition, but his Actor-Editors'; who thinking Rosalind's Speech too long in the second Plan, had abridg'd it to the Lines above quoted : bút, in publishing the Play, stupidly: printed both the Original Speech of Shakespear, and their own, Abridgment of it.


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