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Prin. We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet reads.
Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true,

that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself; have commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (O base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he canie, faw, and overcame ; he came, one ; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came ? the King. Why did he come? to fee. Why did he fee? To whom came he ? to the beggar.

What saw he ? the beggar. Who overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion is viclory; on whose fide? the King's; the captive is inrich d: on whose fide ? the beggar's. The cataNrophe is a nuptial : on whose fide ? the King's? no, on both in one, or one in both : I am the King, (for fo sands the comparison) thou the beggar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love ? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What Jhalt thou exchange for rags ? robes; for tittles? titles :

for thyself? mie. Thus expe&ting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy pi&ture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine in the dearest design of industry,

Don Adriano de Armado.

to overcome.

Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standeft as his

preyi Submissive fall his princely feet before,

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

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you ever hear

Prin. What plume of feathers is 'he, that indited

this letter?
What vane ? what weathercock? did

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the

stile. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it ere

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in

A phantasme, a monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou, fellow, a word :

thee this letter?
Cost. 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 master of mine,
To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords,

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

[Exit Princess attendid.
Boyet. Who is the shooter ? who is the shooter ?
Rós. 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

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

Rof. Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet. And who is


Rós. If we chuse by horns, yourself; come not

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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 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 little 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.

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

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

Exit Ror. Cof. 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? 0, mark but that mark! a mark,

says my lady: Let the mark' have a prick in't ; to meet at, if it Mar. Wide o' th' 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 out, then, belike, your

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

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

may be.

grow foul.

Coft. 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 all but Costard. Coft. By my soul, a swain ; a most fimple clown! Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down!


O my troth, most sweet jelts, most in-cony vulgar

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

were, fo fit.
Armado o' th’ one side,--O, a most dainty man;
To see him walk' before a lady, and to bear her fan.
To see him kiss his hand, and how moft sweetly he

will fwear :
And his Page o' t'other side, that handful of Wit;
Ah, heav'ns! it is a most pathetical Nit.

Exit Costard.

[Shouting within S CE N E II.



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Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathaniel.
Nath. ERY reverend sport, truly; and done in

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

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are fweetly varied, like a scholar at the leaft: but, Sir, I assure


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 insinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication; facere, as it were, replication; or rather, ostentare, 10 fhow, as it were his inclination; after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or rathereft unconfirmed fashion, to infert again my haud credo for a deer.

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

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Hol. Twice sod fimplicity, bis co&us ; 0 thou monfter ignorance, how deformed dost 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 replenished. He is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts; and such barren plants are set be. fore us, that we thankfi

uld be for those parts, (which we taste and feel, ingradare) that do fructify in us, more than He. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet,

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

a school. But omne bene, say I ; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.

Dúll. 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. Di&tynna, good-man Dull; Dittynna, good-man Dull,

Lull. What is Dittynna?
Nath. A title to Phæbe, 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 five

score. * Th' allusion holds in the exchange.

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

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

Dull. And I say, the pollution holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old;

* Th' allusion holds in the exchange.] i. e. thc Riddle is as good when I use the Name of Adam, as when you use the Name of Cain.


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