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Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge ; . so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility.

The preyful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty

pleasing pricket: Some say a sore; but not a sore, till nowmade sore

with shooting The dogs did yell; put 1 to sore, then sorel jumus

from ticke Or pricket, sor', ur else sorel; the peop'e tall a

broting, If sore be sore, then L tu s r: makes fifty sor.s; O

sore L! Of ono sore I an hundred make, by alding but one

more L.


Nath. A rare talent!

Dull. [aside.] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple ; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion : but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it,

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and may my parishioners; fort heir sonsa re well tutorid by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you : you are a good member of the commonwealth.

Hol, Mchercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction : if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them : but, vir sapit qui pazca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth


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I beseech you,

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD. Faq. God give you good morrow, master person. Hol. Master parson,-quasi pers-on.

And if one should be pierced, which is the one ?

Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

Hol. Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a Aint, pearl enough for a swine : 'tis pretty ; it is well.

Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me this letter ; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho ; read it.

Hol. Fauste, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne sub umbrâ Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan ! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice :

Vinegia, Vinegia,

Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia. Old Mantuan ! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.- - Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.—Under pardon, sir, what are the contents ? Or, rather, as Horace says in hisWhat, my soul, verses ?

Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege, domine.


If love make me forsworn, how I shall swear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowd ! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to theo like osiers


Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would com

prehend: If knowledge be the mark, to kuow thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee com

mend: All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder: (Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts ad

mire;) Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice is dreadful

thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, oh, pardon love this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly



Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy,

Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention ? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directel to you?

Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen’s lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. TO the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto :

Your ladyship’s in all desired employment, Bicon.

Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter

a sequent of the stranger queen's, which,


accidentally, or by way of progression, hath miscarried.—Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive

Ι thy duty; adieu! Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.

e.-Sir, God save

your life!


Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

[Exeunt Costard and JAQUENETTA. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith

Hl. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses : did they please you, Sir Nathaniel ?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a tain pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the aforesaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention : I beseech your society.

Nath. And thank you too : for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life.

Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. [To Dull.] Sir, I do invite you too ; you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.


SCENE III.Another part of the same.

Enter BiBox, with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles ; defile ! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit ! By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax : it kills sheep; it kills me,

I a sheep: well proved again o' my side! I will not love : if I do, hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her eye,—by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and le in my throat. By heaven, I do love; and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’my sonnets already : the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it : sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper ; God give him grace to groan.

[Gets up into a tree. Enter the King, with a paper. King. Ah me!

Biron. [aside.] Shot, by heaven !— Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap.--In faith, secrets.

King. [reads.]

So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

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