Arm. Peace! The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion A man so breath'd, that, certain, he would fight, yea, 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. 840 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 delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,— 850 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. 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! 862 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 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. 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 you for't? 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. Enter MERCADE. Mer. God save you, madam ! 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. 900 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. King. How fares your majesty ? [Exeunt Worthies. 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 910 In the converse of breath, your gentleness 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: 921 And though the mourning brow of progeny The holy suit which fain it would convince; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. 930 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, 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 Varying Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. 950 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 courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time: Have we not been; and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment. 960 Dum. Our letters, madam, shew'd 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 970 To make a world-without-end bargain in : No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, Full |