Coff. It pleafed 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 ftand for him.

Biron. Go bid them prepare.

Coft. We will turn it finely off, Sir, we will take fome care.

1

King. Biron, they will fhame us; let them not approach. [Exit Colt. Biron. We are fhame-proof, my Lord; and 'tis fome policy

To have one thow worfe than the King's and his comKing. I fay, they fhall not come.

[pany. Prin. Nay, my good Lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That fport beft pleafes, that doth leaft know how. Where zeal ftrives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it prefents; Their form, confounded, makes most form in mirth; When great things, labouring, perifh in their birth. Biron. A right defcription of our sport, my Lord.

SCENE IX. Enter Armado,

Arm. Anointed, I implore fo much expence of thy Royal fweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. Prin. Doth this man ferve God?

Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He fpeaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, fweet, honey monarch; for, I proteft, the fchoolmafter is exceeding fantaftical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they fay, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, mot Royal coupplement.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: he prefents Hector of Troy; the fwain, Pompey the Great; the parifh-curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabeus.

And if thefe four worthics in their firft fhow thrive, Thefe four will change habits, and prefent the other Biron. There are five in the firft fhow.

King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not fo.

[five.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-prieft,

the foc', and the boy.

A

A bare throw at novum, and the whole world again Cannot prick out five fuch, take each one in's vein. King. The fhip is under fail, and here fhe comes a

main.

Enter Coftard for Pompey.

Goft. I Pompey am

Boyet. You lye, you are not hẻ.

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. With Libbard's head on knee.

Biron. Well faid, old mocker: Imuft needs be friends with thee.

Goft. I Pompey am, Pompey furnam'd the Big.

Dum. The Great.

Coft. It is Great, Sir; Pompey, furnam'd the Great; That eft in field, with targe and shield,

Did make my foe to fweat :

And travelling along this coaft, I here am come by chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this fweet lafs of France.

If your Ladyfhip would fay, "Thanks,-Pompey, I had done.

Prin. Great thanks, Great Pompey.

Coft. 'Tis not fo 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 for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;

By caft, weft, north, and fouth, Ifpread my conquering might:

My 'fcutcheon plain declares, that I am Alifander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands

too right.

Biron. Your nofe fmells, no, in this, moft tenderfmelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is difmaid: proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's

commander.

Boyet. Moft true, 'tis right; you were fo, Alifander,

Biron. Pompey the Great.

Coft. Your fervant, and Coftard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alifander.

Coft. O Sir, you have overthrown Alifander the conqueror. [To Nath.] You will be fcraped out of the painted cloth for this; your lion that holds the pollax fitting on a clofe-ftool, will be given to A-jax * ; he will be then the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afraid to speak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and foon dafh'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, infooth, and a very good bowler; but for Alifander, alas, you fee, how 'tis a little o'erparted but there are worthies a-coming will speak their mind in fome other fort.

Biron. Stand afide, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercles is prefented by this imp,

Whofe club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed

canus;

And when he was a babe, a child, a fhrimp,

Thus did he ftrangle ferpents in his manus :

Quoniam he feemeth in minority,

Keep fome state in thy Exit, and vanish.

Ergo, I come with this apology.

Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Ifcariot, Sir;

Judas I am, cleped Machabeus.

[Exit Moth.

Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas. Biron. A kifling traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas?

Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. The more fhame for you, Judas.

Hol. What mean you, Sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hol. Begin, Sir, you are my elder.

A ridicule upon the arms given to Alexander in the hiftory of the nine worthies; and it ends in a wretched quibble upon the words Ajax and A-jukes,

Biron. Well follow'd; Judas was hang'd on an

elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.

Biron. Because thou haft 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, fcarce feen. Boyet. The pummel of Cæfar's faulchion.

Dum. The carv'd 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 tooth-drawer;

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

nance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. Falfe; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-face'd them all.
Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do fỏ,
Boyet. Therefore as he is an ass, let him go.

And fo adieu, fweet Jude; nay, why doft thou ftay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the afs to the Jude; give it him. Jud-as,

away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for Monfieur Judas; it grows dark, he may ftumble.

Prin. Alas! poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited !

Enter Armado.

*Biron. Hide thy head Achilles, here comes Hector'

in arms.

Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but à Trojan in refpect of this. Boyet. But is this Hector?

King. I think, Hector was not fo clean-timber'd. Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain..**

Boyet. No; he is beft'endu'd in the fmall.

Biron. This can't be Hector.

Dum. He's a God or a painter, for he makes faces, Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the almighty, Gave Hector a gift,

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon,

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

- Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the almighty, Gave Hector a gift the heir of Ilion;

A man fo breath'd, that certain he would fight ye
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

I am that flower.

Dum. That mint.

Long. That cullambine.

Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs a gainst Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a grey-hound.

Arm. The fweet 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 fenfe of hearing. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy fweet Grace's flipper,

Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far furmounted Hannibal

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

Arm. What mean'ft thou?

Coft. Faith, unless you play the honeft Trojan, the poor wench is caft away; fhe's quick, the child brags in her belly already. 'Tis your's.

Arm. Doft thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou fhalt die.

Coft. Then fhall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hanged for Pompey, that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey !
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!
VOL. H.

D d

Biren.