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Arm. Peace! The armi potent Mars, of lances, the al
mighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of llion; A man so breath’d, that, certain, he would fight, yea,
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
Dum. That mint.
Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector,
840 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 breath'd, 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 de
850 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 mean'st 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 whippd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him.
862 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; stir them on, stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him.
870 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't by the sword :-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed worthics.
Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasiny for the combat ? What mean you, you will lose your reputation. 882
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
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.
890 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.
Mer. God save you, madam!
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.
900 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 days 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, 910 Out of a new-sad soul, that you
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
King. The extreme parts of time extremely forms All causes to the purpose of his speed;
921 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, 930 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.
fair sakes have we neglected time, Play'd foul-play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our humours Even to the opposed end of our intents: And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, As love is full of unbefitting strains ;
940 All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Form’d by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye, Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of forms,
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. A& V.
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Prin. A time, methinks, too short