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 ; we

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?

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, 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 some care.

[Exit CoSTARD. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not

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

some policy To have one show worse than the king's and his

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 monarch: 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 Machabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedgepriest, the fool, and the boy: Abate a throw at novum 9; and the whole world

again, Cannot prick 1 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: 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.

a

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

commander ; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my con

quering might: My 'scutheon 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 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. Móst true, 'tis right; you were so, Ali

sander. Biron. Pompey the great, Cost.

Your servant, and Costard. 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 pole-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth 'worthy. A conqueror, and afеard 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 dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; 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 arm’d, for Judas, and Moth

arm’d, for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is presented 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.

[Exit Moth.
Hol. Judas I am, -
Dum. A Judas !

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.
Judas I am, ycleped Machabæus.

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

Judas?
Hol. Judas I am, –
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 hang'd 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.