King. Biron, they will shame us: let them
not approach.
['tis some policy
Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and
To have one show worse than the king's and
his company.

King. I say, they shall not come.
Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule
you now:
[how,

That sport best pleases that doth least know
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of those which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in
mirth;
[birth.
When great things labouring perish in their
Biron. A right description of our sport, my
Enter Armado.
[lord.
Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense
of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace
of words.

[Converses with the King, and delivers a
paper to him.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?

[making.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabeus;

Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. 'Tis not so 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 Sir Nathaniel armed, for Alexander. Nath. "When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might: [sander,-" My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am AliBoyet. Your nose says, no, you are not : for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.

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

Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so,
Biron. Pompey the Great,- [Alisander.
Cost. Your servant, and Costard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take
away Alisander.

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey Cost. [To Nath.] O sir, you have overmonarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is thrown Alisander the conqueror! You will exceeding fantastical; too too vain: too too be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: vain but we will put it, as they say, to for-your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a tuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be mind, most royal couplement. [Exit. the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see how 'tis, -a little o'erparted.-But there are Worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter Holofernes armed, for Judas; and Moth armed, for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, [headed canus; Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that threeAnd, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minority, Ergo, I come with this apology." Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.-[Moth retires.

And if these four Worthies in their first show
thrive,
[other five.
These four will change habits, and present the
Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceived; 'tis not so.
Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the
hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy :-
:-
Abate throw at novum, and the whole world
again,
[his vein.
Cannot prick out five such, take each one in
King. The ship is under sail, and here she
comes amain.

Enter Costard armed, for Pompey.

Cost. I Pompey am,

Boyet.

You lie, you are not he. Cost. " I Pompey am,—' Boyet. With libbard's head on knee. Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee. [the big,-"

Cost. "I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd Dum. "The great." [nam'd the Great ;| Cost. It is "great," sir;-" Pompey surThat oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat :

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance, [lass of France."

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet If your ladyship would say, "Thanks, Pompey," I had done.

sort.

Hol.

Judas I am."

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir,

Judas I am, ycleped Maccabens."
Dum. Judas Maccabeus clipt is plain Judas.
Biron. A kissing traitor.-How art thou
Hol."
Judas I am."- [proved Judas?
Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol. What mean you, sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.
Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hanged

on an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.

Biron. Because thou hast 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,

scarce seen.

Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum. The carved 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.

Princess.] Sweet royalty, 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. [nibal,”—
Arm. "This Hector far surmounted Han-
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 Tro[countenance. jan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already : 'tis yours.

And now forward; for we have put thee in
Hul, You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False: we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have outfac'd them all.
Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost
thou stay?

him-Jud-as, away.

Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Biron. For the ass to the Jude? give it
[humble.
Hol. This is not generous; not gentle; not
Boyet. A light for monsieur Jude? it grows
dark, he may stumble.

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

Enter Armado armed, for Hector.
Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here
comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Though my mocks come home by
me, I will now be merry.
[this.
King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of
Boyet. But is this Hector? [timbered.
King, I think Hector was not so clean-
Long. His calf 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
Gave Hector a gift,—"

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum. No, cloven.

[almighty,

Biron. A lemon.

Arm. Peace!

"The armipotent Mars, of lances the al-
mighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; [ye
A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,"

That mint.

Dum.
Long.
That columbine.
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. [To the

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. more Ates! stir them on, stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.

More Ates,

[thee. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge 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.

[lower.

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 button-hole
Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the

combat?

to cloud.

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 Worthies. King. How fares your majesty?

Biron. Worthies, away! The scene begins At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your
In their own fashion, like a merriment. [loves
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much
Long. So did our looks. [more than jest.
Ros.
We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you,
stay.
[lords,
Prin. Prepare, I say. -I thank you, gracious
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears but a humble tongue :
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd. [forms
King. The extreme part of time extremely
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides

That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,
The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it [lost,
From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends
Is not by much so wholesome profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are
double.
[ear of grief;-

Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty,
ladies,
[humours
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain ;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of stray shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by ris, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecome our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these
faults,

Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. [love;
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of
Your favours, the embassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them

Prin.
A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this :-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin
weeds,

Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year, [deserts,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.

[deny,

King. If this, or more than this, I would
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever, then, my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. And what to me, my love? and what
to me?
[rank:

Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are
You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
Atwelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what
[honesty :

to me?
Kath. A wife !-A beard, fair health, and
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle
[a day

wife?

Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd 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

[again.

then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn
Long. What says Maria?
Mar.

At the twelvemonths end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet is long. love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show.

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 Biron, Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue

Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute
That lie within the mercy of your wit. [brain,

SONG.

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue,

And therewithal to win me, you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won,)
You shall this twelvemonth term, from day to
day,

Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit [be,
To enforce the painèd impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat
It cannot be; it is impossible : [of death?
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. [spirit,
Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deafd with the clamours of their own dear
groans,

Will hear your idle scorns, continue them,
And I will have you and that fault withal;
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth! well, befall what
will befall,

I'll jest a twelvemonth in a hospital.

Prin. [To the King.] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.

your way.

King. No, madam: we will bring you on
[old play;
Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an
Jack hath not Jill; these ladies' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth
And then 'twill end.
[and a day,
Biron.
That's too long for a play.

Enter Armado.

Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,—

Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O, word of fear!
Unpleasing to a married ear.

When shepherd's pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's
clocks,

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer
smocks,

The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O, word of fear!
Unpleasing to a married car.

Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;

To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;

To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after

Arm, I will kiss thy royal finger, and take the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to way.

[Exeunt.