But if thou strive (poor foul) what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den. PRIN. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter? What vane; what weathercock? did you ever hear better? A phantafme, a monarcho, and one that makes sport PRIN. Thou, fellow, a word; Who gave thee this letter? COST. I told you; my lord. PRIN. To whom shouldst thou give it? COST. From my lord to my lady. PRIN. From which lord to which lady? COST. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline, PRIN. Thou haft mistaken this letter. Come, lords, away. Here, fweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day. [Exit Princess attended. BOYET. Who is the fhooter? who is the fhooter ? Ros. Shall I teach you to know? Ros. Why, the that bears the bow. Finely put off. BOYET. My lady goes to kill horns: but if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on. Ros. Well then, I am the shorter. BOYET. And who is your deer? Ros. If we chufe by horns, yourself; come not near. Finely put on indeed. MAR. You ftill wrangle with her, Boyet, and the ftrikes at the brow. BOYET. But the herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now? Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? BOYET. So I may answer thee with one as old, "that was a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. Ros. "Thou can't not hit it, hit hit, hit it. [Singing. "Thou canst not hit it, my good man." BOYET. "An' I cannot, cannot, cannot ; "An' I cannot, another can." [Exit Rof. COST, By my troth, most pleasant; how both did fit it. MAR. A mark marvellous well fhot; for they both did hit it. BOYET. A mark? O, mark but that mark! a mark, says my lady; Let the mark have a prick in't; to meet at if it may be. MAR. Wide o'th'bow-hand; i'faith your hand is out. COST. Indeed, a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout. BOYET. An' if my hand be out, then, belike, your hand is in. COST. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin. MAR. Come, come, you talk greafily; your lips grow foul. COST. She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir, challenge her. to bowl. DA BOYET. I fear too much rubbing; good night my good ⚫owl. [Exeunt all but Coftard. COST. By my foul, a fwain; a most simple clown! Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, moft fweet jests, most incony vulgar wit, When it comes fo fmoothly off, fo obfcenely; as it were, fo fit. Armado o' th' one fide-O, a most dainty man; To fee him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan. To fee him kifs his hand, and how most sweetly he will fwear : And his page o' t'other fide, that handful of wit; Ah, heaven's! it is a most pathetical nit. [Exit Coftard. [Shouting within. SCENE II. Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathanael, NATH. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the teftimony of a good confcience. HOL. The deer was (as you know) fanguis, in blood; ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Cœlo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of Terra, the foil, the land, the earth. NATH. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the leaft; but, Sir, I affure you it was a buck of the firft head. HOL. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. DULL. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. HOL. Most barbarous intimation; yet a kind of infinuation, as it were in via, in the way of explication; facere, as it were, replication; or rather, oftentare, to show, as it were, his inclination; after his undreffed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or rathereft unconfirmed fashion, to infert again my hand credo for a deer. DULL. I faid, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket. HOL. Twice fod fimplicity, bis coctus; Ó thou monster ignorance, how deformed doft thou look ? NATH. Sir, he hath never fed on the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not replenished. He is only an animal, only fenfible in the duller parts; And fuch barren plants are fet before us, that we thankful fhould be, When we taste and feeling have for those parts that do fructify in us, more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indifcreet, or a fool; So were there a patch fet on learning, to see him in a school. But omne bene, fay I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind. DULL. You two are book-men; can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet? HOL. Dictynna, good-man Dull; Dictynna, good-man Dull, DULL. What is Dictynna ? NATH. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the Moon. HOL. The moon was a month old, when Adam was no more : And raught not to five weeks, when he came to fivefcore. DULL. 'Tis true, indeed; the collufion holds in the exchange. HOL. God comfort thy capacity! I fay, the allufion holds in the exchange. DULL. And I fay, the pollution holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old; and I fay befide, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd. HOL. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess kill'd, a pricket. NATH. Perge, good mafter Holofernes, perge; fo it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. HOL. I will fomething affect the letter; for it cility. The praiseful princess pierc'd and prickt A pretty pleafing pricket; Some fay, a fore; but not a fore, 'Til now made fore with shooting. NATH. A rare talent! argues fa DULL. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent. HOL. This is a gift that I have; fimple! fimple! a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, fhapes, objects, ideas, apprehenfions, motions, revolutions. These are be |