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speak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't
Biron. Stand afide, good Pompey.
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus;
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus :
Hol. Judas I am.
Hol. Not Iscariot, Sir ;
Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.
Hol. Judas I am.
Hol. What mean you, Sir ?
Biron. 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.
Boyet. Therefore as he is an ass, let him go.
Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now
Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift,
Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.
Long. That cullambine.
Long. I must rather give it the rein ; for it runs against Hector. Dum. Ay, and Hector's a grey:
Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.
Coft. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she 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; The's quick, the child brags in her belly already. 'Tis yours.
Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates ? Thou shalt die.
Coff. Then shall He&tor be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead
Dum. Most rare 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 them on, stir them on.
Dum. Hector will challenge him.
(51) This Hector far furmaunted Hannibal.
be porty is gone.) All the editions stupidly have plac'd these last words as part of Armde do's speech in the interlude. I have ventur'd to give them to Coftard, who is for putting Armado out of his part, by telling him the party (i, e. bis mistress Jaquenetta,) is gone two months with child by him.
Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a Alea.
Arm. By the north-pole, I do challenge thee.
Coft. I will not fight with a pole like a northern man: I'll flath ; I'll do't by the sword : I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Moth. Mafter, let me take you a button-hole lower! Do you nct fee, Pompey is uncafing for the combat: what mean you ? you will lofe 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
and will. Biron. What reason have
fort? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt ; I go woolward for penance.
Boyet. True, (52) and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen ; since when, I'll be sworn he wore nore, but a dish-clout of Yaquenetta's, and that he wears next his heat for a favour.
Mac. God save
(52.) And it was injoin'd bim in Rome fox want of linen.] Sbakespeare certainly alludes here to a famous story, a matter of fact that happen'd at Rome, sometime, I think, before his time. A Spaniard fell in a duel : in his last moments one of his most intimate friends chanc'd to come by, condold with him, and offer'd his beft service. The dying person told him he had but one requeft to make to him, and conjur'd him by the memory of their long friendfhip punctually to comply with it: which was, not to suffer him to be stript as usual, but to bury him in the condition, and very habit he was then in. When this was promis'd, the Spaniard clos'ét his eyes, with great composure and satisfaction. But his friend's curiosity prevailid over his obligations, and defiring to know the reason of so uncommon a request, so earnestly prefs’d, he had him stripp'd ; and found to his great surprize, he was without a thirt.
Prin. Welcome, Macard, but that thou interruptet our merriment,
Mac. I'm sorry, Madam; for the news I bring
Prin. Dead, for my life,
Arm. For my 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.
Exeunt Wortbies. King. How fares your Majesty ? Prin. Boyet, prepare ; I will away to-night. King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, ftay.
Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious Lords,
King. The extreme part of time extremely forms
(53) 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 oppression. The Princess is defiring, her grief may apologize for her not expressing her obligations at large; and my correction is conformable to that fentiment.