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Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Biron. For the ass to the Jude?
Give it him :-Jud-as,
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas. It grows dark; he may stumble.
Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been baited!
Enter ARMADO armed, for Hector.
Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in
Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timbered.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.
Dum. More calf, certain.
Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron. This cannot 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.
Dum. No, cloven.
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight, yea
I am that flower,—
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.
Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried; when he breathed, he was a man but I will forward with my device. Sweet royalty, [To the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. 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,Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector; she is gone; she is two months on her way.
Arm. What meanest 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. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.
Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hanged, for Pompey that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!
Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!
Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is moved.
Stir them on! Stir them on!
More Ates, more Ates;
Dum. Hector will challenge him
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 it 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 buttonhole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose 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 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.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoined 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 he wears next his heart for a favor.
Enter a Messenger, MONSIEUR MERCADE.
Mer. God save you, madam.
Prin. Welcome, Mercade.
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 father-
Mer. Even so; my tale is told.
Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine 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.
King. How fares your majesty?
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 endeavors, and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe,
King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate.
The holy suit which fain it would convince;
From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
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,
Played foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
And what in us hath seemed ridiculous,—
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
To those that make us both, -fair ladies, you;
Prin. We have received your letters, full of love:
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
Dum. Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest.
We did not quote them so.
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts.
For the remembrance of my father's death.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
Hence ever, then, my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too; your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favor mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With threefold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord.-A twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say. Come when the king doth to my lady come; Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. Long. What says Maria?
At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Biron. Studies my lady? Mistress, look on me; Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, What humble suit attends thy answer there. Impose some service on me for thy love.
Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks; Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;