Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is prefented by this imp, Whofe club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle ferpents in his manus : Quoniam, he feemeth in minority; Keep fome state in thy Exit, and vanish. Ergo, I come with this apology. Hol. Judas I am. Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Ifcariot, Sir; Judas I am, yeleped Machabeus. [Exit Moth. Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas. Biron. A kiffing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas? Hol. Judas I am. Dum. The more fhame 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. Becaufe thou haft 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 feen. Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch. Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer; And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance, Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. Falfe; we have given thee faces. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do fo. Boyet Boyet. Therefore as he is an afs, let him go. Biron. Forthe Afs to the Jude; give it him. Jud-as, away. Enter Armado. Biren. Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in arms. Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. King. I think, Hector was not fo clean-timber'd. Long. His leg is too big for Hector. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best indu'd in the small. Biron. This can't be Hector. Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift, Dum. A gilt nutmeg. Biron. A lemon. Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the Almighty, A man fo breath'd, that certain he would fight ye I am that Flower. Dum. That mint. Long. That cullambine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I muft rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector. Dum Dum. Ay, and Hector's a grey-hound. Arm. The fweet War-man is dead and rotten; Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the bury'd: But I will forward with my device; Sweet Royalty, bestow on me the fenfe of hearing. Boyet. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not, by the yard. Arm. This Hector far furmounted Hannibal. Coft. The Party is gone, fellow Hedor, fhe is gone; he is two months on her way. Arm. What mean'ft thou? Coft. Faith, unless you play the honeft Trojan, the poor wench is caft away; fhe's quick, the child brags in her belly already. Tis yours. Arm. Doft thou infamonize me among Potentates ? Thou shalt die. Then shall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him. Dum. Moft rare Pompey! Boyet. Renowned Pompey! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is mov'd; moré Ates, more Ates; ftir them on, ftir them on. Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will fup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.. Coft. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: I'll dash; I'll do't by the Sword: I pray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incenfed Worthies. Coft. I'll do't in my fhirt. Dum. Moft refolute Pompey! Math. Matter, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do Do ye not fee, Pompey is uncafing for the combat: what mean you? you will lofe your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen, and foldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge. Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Biron. What reafon have you for't? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no fhirt; I go woolward for penance. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linnen; fince when, I'll be fworn, he wore none but a difh-clout o Jaquenetta's, and that he wears next his heart for a Favour. Enter Macard. Mac. God fave you, Madam! Prin. Welcome, Macard, but that thou interruptest our merriment. Mac. I'm forry, Madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father. Mac. Even fo: my Tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the Scene begins to cloud. Arm. For my own part, I breathe free breath; I have feen the day of wrong through the little hole of difcretion, and I will right myfelf like a foldier. King. How fares your Majefty?, [Exeunt Worthies. Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. Prin. Prepare, I fay.I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-fad foul, that you vouchfafe An An heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: (38) King. The extreme part of time extremely forms That, which long Procefs could not arbitrate. Forbid the fmiling courtesy of love, The holy fuit which fain it would convince; From what it purpos'd: Since, to wail friends loft, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double. Biron. Honeft plain words belt pierce the ear of grief; And by thefe badges understand the King, For your fair fakes have we neglected time, Play'd foul Play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies, (38) An beavy Heart bears not an humble Tongue.] Thus all the Editions; but, furely, without either Senfe or Truth. None are more bumble in Speech, than they who labour under any Oppreffion. The Princefs is defiring, her Grief may apologize for her not expreffing her Obligations at large; and my Correction is conformable to that Sentiment. Befides, there is an Antithefis between beavy and nimble; but between heavy and bumble, there is none. Have نما |