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Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Coft. O Lord, fir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, fir.

Biron. How much is it?

Cof. O Lord, fir, the parties themselves, the actors, fir, will fhew whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they fay, but to perfect one man in one poor man; Pompion the Great, fir.

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?

Coft. 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 stand for him.

Biron. Go, bid them prepare.

Coft. We will turn it finely off, fir; we will take fome

care.

1

King. Biron, they will fhame us, let them not approach. [Exit COST. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis fome

policy

To have one show worse than the king's and his company. King. I fay, they fhall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now;
That sport beft pleases, that doth leaft know how.
Where zeal ftrives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it prefents;;

There form, confounded, makes most form in mirth ;
When great things, labouring, perifh in their birth.
Biron. A right defcription of our sport, my lord.

Enter ARMADO.

Arm. Anointed, I implore fo much expense of thy royal fweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [Converfes apart with the King. Prin. Doth this man ferve God? Biron. Why afk you

?

Prin. He fpeaks not like a man-of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, fweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the school-mafter is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they fay, to fortuna della guerra. I with you the peace of mind, moft royal couplement !

[Exit.

King. Here is like to be a good prefence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the fwain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's

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page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus.

And if these four worthies in their firft fhow thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five. Biron. There are five in the first show.

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

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy :

A bare throw at novum; and the whole world again, Cannot prick out five fuch, take each one in his vein. King. The fhip is under fail, and here she comes amain. Enter COSTARD for Pompey.

Coft. I Pompey am,

Boyet. You lie, you you are not he..
Coft. I Pompey am,

Boyet. With libbard's head on knee.[3]

Biron. Well faid, old mocker; I muft needs be friends with thee..

Coft. I Pompey am, Pompey furnam'd the Big,-
Dum. The Great.

Coft. It is great, fir ;-Pompey furnam'd the Great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to

freat:

And travelling along this coaft, I here am come by chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lafs of France. If your ladyship would fay, Thanks-Pompey, I had done. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Coft. 'Tis not fo much worth: but, I hope, I was per fect: I made a little fault in great.

Biron. My hat to a half-penny, Pompey proves the beft worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL, för Alexander.

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

By east, weft, north, and fouth, I fpread my conquering might: My fcutcheon plain declares, that I am Alifander. Boyet. Your nofe fays, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nofe fmells, no, in this, moft tender-smelling knight. [exander.

Prin. The conqueror is difmay'd: Proceed, good Al[3] This alludes to the old heroic habits, which on the knees and fhoulders had ufually, by way of ornament, the resemblance of a leopard's or lion's head. WARB.

The libbard,' as fome of the old English gloffaries inform us, is the male of the panther. STEEV.

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 Costard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alifander. Coft. O, fir, you have overthrown Alifander the conqueror!-[To NATH.] You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax hitting on a clofe-ftool,[4] will be given to A-jax; he will then be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afraid to speak! run away for fhame, Alifander. [Exit NATH.] -There, an't fhall please you! a foolifh mild man; an honeft man, look you, and foon dash'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 fpeak their mind in fome other fort.

Biron. Stand afide, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES, for Judas, and Mотн, for Hercules».
Hol. Great Hercules is prefented by this imp,
Whofe club kill'd Cerberus, that three-beaded canus ;
And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did be firangle ferpents in his manus:

Quoniam, be feemeth in minority;

Ergo, I come with this apology.

[TO MOTH.] Keep fome ftate in thy exit, and vanish.

Hol. Judas I am,

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Ifcariot, fir.

Judas I am, ycleped Maccabeus.

[Exit MOTH.

Dum. Judas Maccabæus clipt, is plain Judas.

Biron. A kiffing traitor:-How art thou prov'd Judas?

Hol. Judas I am,—

Dum. The more fhame for you, Judas.

Hol. What mean you, fir?

Bojet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hol. Begin, fir; you are my elder,

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.

[4] Alluding to the arms given to the nine worthies in the old history.

HANMER.

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, scarce 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 countenance.
Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. Falfe; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.

Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do fo.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.

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

Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him :—Jud-as,

away.

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

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

Enter ARMADO, for Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in

arms.

Dum. Though thy mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a 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 best indu'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 lances the almighty,,

Gave Hector a gift

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon,

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dam. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace! The armipotent Mars, of lances the al-
Gave Hedor a gift, the heir of Ilion;

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

I am that flower.

Dum. That mint.

Long. That columbine.

Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Long. I muft rather give it the rein; for it runs against 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 buried : But I will forward with my device.

[To the Princess.] Sweet royalty, beftow 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. Coft. The party is gone, fellow Hector, the is gone; fhe 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 yours.

Arm. Doft thou infamonize me among potentates ! Thou shalt die.

Coft. Then fhall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey, that is dead by him.

Dum. Moft 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 Atés, more Atés ;[8] ftir them on, ftir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will fup a flea.

[8] That is, more inftigation. Ate was the mischievous goddess that ineited bloodthed. JOHNS.

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