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Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers a paper to him.

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

Prin. Hespeaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

Exit. 531

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 Maccabæus.

And if these four Worthies in their first show

thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the other five.

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'That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make

my foe to sweat:

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.

If your ladyship would say, 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done.

Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in Great.' Berowne. 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;

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By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:

My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander, Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

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

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

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There, an't shall please you: a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed! He is a marvellous 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 sort. Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and MOTH armed, for Hercules.

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

Judas I am,

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycleped Maccabœus.

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MOTH retires.

Dum. Judas Maccabæus clipt is plain Judas. I am that flower,

Berowne. A kissing traitor.

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That mint.

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That columbine.

Hol. Judas I am,

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.

Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it

Hol. What mean you, sir?

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runs against Hector.

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

Hol. Begin, sir: you are my elder.
Berowne. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried;

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten;

an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.

Berowne. Because thou hast no face.

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Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Berowne. False: we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have outfaced them all. 619 Berowne. 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?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Berowne. 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 stumble.

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Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Aside to DUMAINE. Loves her by the foot. Dum. Aside to BOYET. 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?

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Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, 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.

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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! Berowne. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the Huge! Dum. Hector trembles.

Berowne. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on ! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Berowne. Ay, if a' have no more man's blood in 's belly than will sup a flea.

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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 bepray 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; e; I will not combat in my shirt.

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Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Berowne. 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 dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next his heart for a favour. 711

Enter Monsieur MARCADE, a Messenger.

Mar. God save you, madam! Prin. Welcome, Marcade,

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A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight ye, From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mar. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father

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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 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 not a nimble tongue.
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

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King. The extreme parts of time extremely

forms

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ladies,

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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 parti-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

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To those that make us both,- fair ladies, you :
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of

love;

Your favours, the ambassadors of love; And, in our maiden council, rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time.

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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.

We did not quote them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. A time, methinks, too short

Prin.

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: 790
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

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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 me, challenge me by these

deserts,

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.

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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 ever then my heart is in thy breast. Berowne. And what to me, my love? and what to me?

Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd:

You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

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Before I saw you, and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;

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

Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,

Which you on all estates will execute

Re-enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH,

That lie within the mercy of your wit:

And therewithal to win me, if you please,

COSTARD, and others.

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring;

Without the which I am not to be won,

the one maintained by the owl, the other by

You shall this twelvemonth term, from day to day,

the cuckoo. Ver, begin.

spirit,

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

Berowne. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?

It cannot be; it is impossible :
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

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,
Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear

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II.

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

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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 ear!

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

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I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. To the KING. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.

King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way.

Berowne. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;

Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,

And then 'twill end.

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Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way: we, this

our show.

way.

Exeunt. 932

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The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace: four happy days bring in Another moon; but, O! methinks, how slow This old moon wanes; she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager

Long withering out a young man's revenue.

Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;

Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

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Exit PHILOSTRATE.

Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,

With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.

Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and
DEMETRIUS.

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee?

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Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint

Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her.
Stand forth, Lysander: and, my gracious duke.
This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child:

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rimes,
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, 30
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love;
And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth;
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's
heart,

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Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness. And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
As she is mine, I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this gentleman,
Or to her death, according to our law
Immediately provided in that case.

The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid.

To you your father should be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties, yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

Her. So is Lysander.

The.

In himself he is;

But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier.

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Her. I would my father look'd but with my

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