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love? I may: shall I enforce thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I will: what shalt thou exchange for rags ? robes: for titles, titles: for thyself, me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my

I eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,

Don ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den,

Prin. What plume of feathers is he that in

dited this letter? What vane ? what weathercock? did you ever

hear better? Boyet. I am much deceived but I remember

the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it

erewhile. Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps

here in court; A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes

sport To the prince, and his book-mates. Prin.

Thou, fellow, a word :
Who give thee this letter ?
Cost.

I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?
Cost.

From my lord to my lady.
Prin. From which lord, to which lady?
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of

mine, To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come,

lords, away.

Here, sweet, put up this ; 'twill be thine another

day. [Exeunt Princess and Train. Boyet. Who is the suitor ? who is the suitor ? Ros. Shall I teach you to know? Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty. Ros.

Why, she 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 mis.

carry. Finely put on!

Ros. Well, then, I am the shooter.
Boyet.

And who is your deer?
Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself :

come not near. Finely put on, indeed!— Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and

she strikes at the brow. Boyet. But she herself is hit lower : have Ihit

her now? Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

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

as

Ros. [singing.]

Th u canst not lit it, hit it, hit it,

Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, can not,
An I cinpot, anoth. can.

[Exeunt Ros. and KATII. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both

did fit it!

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they

both did hit it. Boyet. A mark! O, mark vut that mark ! A

mark, says my lady! Let the mark have a prick in't to mete at, if it

may be.

Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I' faith your

hand is out. Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er

hit the clout. Boyet. An if my hand be cut, then, belike ycur

hand is in. Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving

the pin. Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips

grow foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; chal

lenge her to bowl. Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good night,

my good owl. [Exeunt Boyet and Maria. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple

clown ! Lord, lord ! how the ladies and I have put him

down! O’my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vul

gar wit!

When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it

were, so fit.

Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan! To see him kiss his hand ! and how most sweetly

a' will swear ! And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit ! Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! Sola, sola!

[Shouting within. [Exit Costa' D, running.

SCENE II.- The same.

Enter HOLOFERNE3, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis,in blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cælo,—the sky, the welkin, the heaven ; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least; but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo ; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were in via, in way, of expiication; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion,-to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said the deer was not a haud cred); 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus !—0 thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of 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 replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts ;

And such barren plants are set before us, that we

thankful should be (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts

that do fructify in us more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indis

creet, or a fool, So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him

n a school : But, omne bene, say 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, goodman Dull; Dictynna,

goodman Dull.
Dull. What is Dictynna ?
Nath. A title to Phæbe, Luna, to the moon.
Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam

was no more ; And raught not to five weeks, when he came to

five-score. The allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange ; for the moon is never but a month old : and I say, beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess killed.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have called the deer the princess killed, a pricket.

15

a

VCL. III.

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