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; aud 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.
I see the trick on't;-Here was a consent t
(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.

Make no difficulty. + Conspiracy.

Buffoon.

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*, And laugh upon the apple of her eye? 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 shrowd. 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.

No, sir; but it is vara fine,

For every one pursents three.

Biron.

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; wa know what we know:

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,

Biron.

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

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for

nine.

Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

• Rule.

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, e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, air.

*་

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

some care.

approach.

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 - now;

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 expence of thy royal 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?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making, Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey mon. arch: for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastical; too, too, vain; too, too vain; But

we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit Armado. 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 Ma

chabæus.

And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other

five.

Biron. There is five in the first show.

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

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

Abate a throw at novum*; and the whole world

again,

Cannot prick+ out five such, take each one in his vein.

King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

[Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c.

Pageant of the Nine Worthies.

Enter Costard arm'd, 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.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,— Dum. The great.

Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam'd the

great;

That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:

* A game with dice.

+ Pick.

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.

Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter Nathaniel arm'd, for Alexander.

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

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.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tendersmelling 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, Ali.

sander.

Biron. Pompey the great,

Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror? You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax; he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a