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To the Prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou, fellow, a word:" Who gave thee this letter?

Coft. I told you; my lord.

Prin. To whom should'st thou give it?
Coft. From my lord to my lady.

Prin. From which lord to which lady?

Coft. From my lord Berown, a good mafter of mine, To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.

Prin. Thou haft mistaken his letter. Come, lords,

away.

Here, fweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day. [Exit Princess attended. Boyet. Who is the fhooter? who is the shooter? Rof. Shall I teach you to know?

Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.

Rof. Why, the that bears the bow. Finely put off. Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns: but if thou marry,

Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on.

Rof. Well then, I am the fhooter.

Boyet. And who is your Deer?

Rof. If we chufe by horns, your felf; come not

near.

Finely put on, indeed.

Mar. You ftill wrangle with her, Boyet, and fhe ftrikes at the brow.

Boyet. But the her felf is hit lower. Have I hit her now?

Rof. Shall I come upon thee with an old faying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a lit tle boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

VOL. II.

Rof

Rof. Thou can't not bit it, bit it, bit it. [Singing. Thou can't not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An' I cannot, cannot, cannot ; An' I cannot, another can.

[Exit Rof. Coft. By my troth, most pleasant; how both did

fit it.

Mar. A mark marvellous well fhot; for they both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark? O, mark but that mark! a mark, fays my lady;

Let the mark have a prick in't; to meet at, if it may be.

Mar. Wide o' th' bow-hand; i'faith, your hand is

out.

Coft. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.

Boyet. An' if my hand be out, then, belike, your hand is in.

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Coft. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greafily; your lips grow foul.

Coft. She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir, challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; good night my good owl. [Exeunt all but Coftard. Coft. By my foul, a fwain; a moft fimple clown! Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, moft fweet jefts, moft in-cony vulgar

wit,

When it comes fo fmoothly off, fo obscenely; as it were, fo fit.

Armado o' th' one fide,~O, a most dainty man;

To fee him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan. To fee him kifs his hand, and how moft fweetly he

will fwear:

And

And his Page o' t'other fide, that handful of Wit; Ah, heav'ns! it is a moft pathetical Nit.

[Exit Coftard.

SCENE

[Shouting within.

II.

"Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathaniel. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the teftimony of a good Confcience.

Hol.

6 EnterHolofernes,] There is very little perfonal reAlexion in Shakespear. Either the virtue of thofe times, or the candour of our author, has fo effected, that his fatire is, for the most part, general, and as himself fays,

-bis taxing like a wild goofe flies,

Unclaim'd of any man.

The place before us feems to be an exception. For by Holofernes is defigned a particular character, a pedant and fchoolmaster of our author's time, one John Florio, a teacher of the Italian tongue in London, who has given us a fmall dictionary of that language under the title of A world of words, which in his Epiftle Dedicatory he tells us, is of little less value than Stephens's treasure of the Greek tongue, the most compleat work that was ever yet compiled of its kind. In his preface, he calls those who had criticized his works Sea-dogs or Land-critics; Monfiers of men, if not beafts rather than men ; whose teeth are canibals, their toongs addars-forks, their lips afpes poison, their eyes bafiliskes, their breath the breath of a grave, their words like fwordes of Turks that ftrive which shall dive deepeft into a Chriftian lying bound before them. Well therefore might the mild Nathaniel defire Holofernes to abrogate fcurrility. His profeffion too is the reason that Holofernes deals fo much in Italian fentences. There is an edition of Love's Labour's loft, printed 1598, and said to be presented before her Highness this laft Chriftmas 1597. The next year 1598, comes out our John Florio with his World of Words, recentibus odiis; and in the preface, quoted above, falls upon the comic poet for bringing him on the ftage. There is another fort of leering curs, that rather fnarle than bite, whereof I could inftance in one, who lighting on a good fonnet of a gentleman's, a friend of mine, that loved better to be a poet than to be counted fo, called the author a Rymer.-Let Ariftophanes and his comedians make plaies, and scowre their

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mouths

Hol. The deer was (as you know) fanguis, in blood; ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Calo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of Terra, the foil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, mafter Holofernes, the epithets are fweetly varied, like a scholar at the leaft: but, Sir, I affure ye, it was a buck of the first head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Moft barbarous intimation; yet a kind of infinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication; facere, as it were, replication; or rather, oftentare, to fhow, as it were his inclination; after his undreffed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or rathereft unconfirmed fashion, to infert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I faid, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice fod fimplicity, bis cotus; O thou monfter ignorance, how deformed doft thou look?

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed on the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper, as it

were; he hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not mouths on Socrates; thofe very mouths they make to vilifie shall be the means to amplifie his virtue, &c. Here Shakespear is fo plainly marked out as not to be mistaken. As to the Sonnet of The Gentleman his friend, we may be affured it was no other than his own. And without doubt was parodied in the very fonnet beginning with The praifefull Princefs, &c. in which our author makes Holophernes fay, He will fomething affect the letter; for it argues facility. And how much John Florio thought this affectation argued facility, or quickness of wit, we fee in this preface where he falls upon his enemy, H. S. His name is H. S. Da not take it for the Roman H. S. unless it be as H. S. is twice as much and an half, as half an AS. With a great deal more to the fame purpofe; concluding his preface in these words, The refolute John Florio. From the ferocity of this man's temper it was, that Shakespear chose for him the name which Rablais gives to his Pedant of Thubal Heloferne.

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replenished. He is only an animal, only fenfible in the duller parts; 7 and fuch barren plants are fet before us, that we thankful fhould be for those parts, (which we tafte and feel, ingradare) that do fructify in us, more than He.

For as it would ill become me to be vain, indifcreet, or a fool;

So were there a patch fet on learning, to fee him in a school.

But omne bene, fay I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind. Dull. You two are book-men; can you tell by your wit,

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?

Hol. Dictynna, good-man Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.

Dull. What is Dictynna?

Nath. A title to Phabe, to Luna, to the Moon.

Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam was

no more:

And rought not to five weeks, when he came to fivescore.

Th' allufion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true, indeed; the collufion holds in the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I fay, the allufion holds in the exchange,

7 and fuch barren plants are fet before us, that we thankful fhould be; which we tafle, and feeling are for thofe parts that do fructify in us more than he.] The Words have been ridiculously, and ftupidly, tranfpos'd and corrupted. The emendation I have offer'd, I hope, reitores the author: At least, it gives him fenfe and grammar and answers extremely well to his metaphors taken from planting. Ingradare, with the Italians, fignifies, to rife higher and higher; andare di grado in grado, to make a progreffion; and fo at length come to fructify, as the poet expreffes it.

8 Th allufion bolds in the exchange.] i. e. the riddle is as good when I use the name of Adam, as when you use the name of Čain.

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