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And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,
Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue;
Nor never come in visor to my friend;1
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song:
Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Figures pedantical; these summer-flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:

I do forswear them: and I here protest,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God
knows!)

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin, wench, -So God help me, la!-
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.
Biron.

I see the trick on't;-Here was a consent
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment,)
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight

zany,

Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some
Dick,-
That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd,-
Told our intents before: Which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn; in will, and error.
Much upon this it is:-And might not you,

[To Boyet.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,s

Yet I have a trick And laugh upon the apple of her eye ?

Of the old rage: -bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see;-

Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These lords are visited; you are not free,

For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens

to us.

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What did you whisper in your lady's ear?

And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet.
Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have

done.

Enter Costard.

Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
Biron. What, are there but three.
Cost.
For every one pursents three.
Biron.

No, sir; but it is vara fine,

And three times thrice is nine. Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope, it is not so:

You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we
know what we know:

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,-
Biron.

Is not nine.
Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil

King. That more than all the world I did respect it doth amount. Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

her.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re-
ject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.
Prin.

Peace, peace, forbear;

Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will; and therefore keep it:-Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear
As precious eye-sight; and did value me
Above this world: adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my
troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.
Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give;
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :-
What; will you have me, or your pearl again?
Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.

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Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir. Biron. How much is it?

Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man, c'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?

Cost. It pleased 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. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit Costard. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach.

some care.

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis
some policy

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

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That sport best pleases, that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter Armado.

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thyroyal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [Armado converses with the King, and delivers him a paper.

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

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Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Ali-
Biron. Pompey the great,-
Cost.
Your servant, and Costárd.
Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away
Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Alisander. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey Alisander the conqueror? You will be scraped out monarch: for, I protest, the school-master is excecding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal A-jax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, couplement! [Erit Armado, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisan

King. Here is like to be a good presence of wor- der. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you thies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and

Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander;
Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas

Machabæus.

And if these four worthies

soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis;-a little o'erparted:a coming will speak their

But there are worthies in their first show thrive, mind in some other sort.

These four will change habits, and present the

other five.

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Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes arm'd, for Judas, and Moth
arm'd, for Hercules.

Hol. Great Hercules is s presented present by this imp,
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed

canus;

And, 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. [Ex. Moth.
Hol. Judas I am,-

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ucleped Machabæus.

Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron. A kissing traitor:-How art thou prov'd

Judas?

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dark, he may stumble.

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

Enter Armado arm'd, 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.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Boyet. But is this Hector?

Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd. 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 al

mighty,

Gave Hector a gift

Dum. A gilt nutmeg

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace.

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, 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.

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 button-hole 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 enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jacquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.

Enter Mercade.

Mer. God save you, madam!

Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father

From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

I am that flower,

Dum.

Long.

That mint.

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 breath'd, 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 de-
lighted.
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

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring,

Prin. Dead, for my life.

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. [Exeunt Worthies.

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 endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide,
The liberals 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 not an humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou ?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan,

King. The extreme parts of time extremely form

the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the All causes to the purpose of his speed;
child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours.
And often, at his very loose, decides

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten-That which long process could not arbitrate:
tates? thou shalt die.
And though the mourning brow of progeny

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jacque- Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, netta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pom- The holy suit which fain it would convince;

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Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great, Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,

(1) Lance-men.

(2) Até was the goddess of discord.

(3) A clown. (4) Clothed in wool, without linen. (5) Free to excess.

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,
Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
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 strange 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 us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd 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.

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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;

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of love; Impose some service on me for thy love.

Your favours the embassadors of love;

And, in our maiden council, rated them
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 loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more

than jest.

Long. So did our looks. Ros.

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;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won,)

You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day

We did not quote them so. Visit the speechless sick, and still converse King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,

Grant us your loves.
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,

Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and till that instant, shut
My woful 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.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence even then my heart is in thy breast.

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With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of

death?

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Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,-
Prin. Was not that Hector ?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet 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.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Arm. Holla! approach.

Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and others.

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Cuckoo, cuckoo,-0 word of fear, Unpleasing to a married earl

III.

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

In this play, which all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejected as unworthy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are many passages mean, childish, and vulgar: and

clocks,

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, some which ought not to have been exhibited, as And maidens bleach their summer we are told they were, to a maiden queen. But

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

Cuckoo;

there are scattered through the whole many sparks of genius; nor is there any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shakspeare.

JOHNSON.

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