For the lord's tokens on you both I fee.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens

to us.

you.

Biron. Our ftates are forfeit, feek not to undo us. Rof. It is not fo; for how can this be true, That you ftand forfeit, being thofe that fue? Biron. Peace, for I will not have to do with Rof. Nor fhall not, if I do as I intend. Biron Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, fweet Madam, for our rude transgreffion

Some fair excufe.

Prin. The faireft is confeffion.

Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd?

King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advis'd?

King. I was, fair Madam,

Prin. When you then were here,

What did you whisper in your lady's ear?

King. That more than all the world I did respect her.

Prin. When fhe fhall challenge this, you will reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.
Prin. Peace, peace, forbear:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear.
King. Defpife me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will, and therefore keep it. Rofaline,
What did the Ruffian whisper in your ear?
Rof. Madam, he fwore, that he did hold me dear
As precious eye-fight; and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Moft honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady fuch an oath.

Rof:

Rof. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, to th' Princefs. I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her fleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did fhe wear:
And lord Biron, I thank him, is my Dear.
What? will you have me; or your pearl again?
Biron. Neither of either: I remit both twain.
I fee the trick on't; here was a consent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dash it, like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, fome pleafe-man, fome flight zany,
Some mumble-news, fome trencher knight, fome
Dick,

That* fmiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when fhe's difpos'd,
Told our intents before; which once difclos'd,
The ladies did change Favours, and then we,
Following the figns, woo'd but the fign of fhe:
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forfworn: in will, and error.
Much upon this it is.-And might not You [To Boyet.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by th' fquier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye,

And ftand between her back, Sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jefting merrily?

You put our Page out: go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a fmock fhall be your fhrowd.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden fword.

Boyet. Full merrily

Hath this brave Manage, this Career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting ftrait. Peace, I have done. * --fmiles his cheek in years,

--] Mr. Theobald fays, he cannot, for his Heart, comprehend the Senfe of this Phrafe. It was not his Heart but his Head that ftood in his Way. In Years, fignifies, into Wrin kles. So in The Merchant of Venice,

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

VOL. II.

Enter

Enter Coftard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou partest a fair fray.
Coft. O lord, Sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies fhall come in, or no.
Biron. What, are there but three?
Coft. No, Sir, but it is vara fine;
For every one pursents three.

Biron. And three times three is nine?

Coft. Not fo, Sir, under correction, Sir; I hope,

it is not fo.

You cannot beg us, Sir; I can affure you, Sir, we know what we know: I hope, three times thrice, Sir

Biron. Is not nine.

Coft. Under correction, Sir, we know where until it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Coft. O lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, Sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Coft. O lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will fhew whereuntil it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as they fay, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, Sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies!

Coft. It pleafed them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy; but I am to ftand for him. Biron. Go bid them prepare.

Coft. We will turn it finely off, Sir, we will take fome care.

King. Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach. [Exit Coft. Biron. We are fhame-proof, my lord; and 'tis fome policy

To have one Show worfe than the King's and his Company.

King. I fay, they fhall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That fport beft pleases, that doth least know how. Where zeal ftrives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it prefents;

Their form, confounded, makes moft form in mirth; When great things, labouring, perifh in their birth. Biron. A right defcription of our sport, my lord.

Arm. ANOINTED, I implore fo much expence

of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.

Prin. Doth this man ferve God?

Biron. Why afk you?

Prin. He fpeaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, fweet, honey monarch; for, I proteft, the fchoolmafter is exceeding; fantaftical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they fay, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, moft royal coupplement.

King. Here is like to be a good prefence of Worthies: he prefents Hector of Troy; the fwain, Pompey the Great; the parifh-curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabeus.

And if thefe four Worthies in their firft Show thrive, These four will change habits, and prefent the other five.

Biron. There are five in the first Show.

King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not fo.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-prieft, the fool, and the boy.

A bare throw at Novum, and the whole world again Cannot prick out five fuch, take each one in's vein, King. The fhip is under fail, and here fhe comes

amain.

Enter Coftard for Pompey.

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. You lie, you are not he.

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. *With Libbard's head on knee.

Biron. Well faid, old mocker: I muft needs be friends with thee.

Coft. I Pompey am, Pompey furnam'd the Big.
Dum. The Great.

Coft. It is Great, Sir; Pompey, furnam'd the Great; That oft in field, with targe and shield,

Did make my foe to fweat:

And travelling along this coaft, I here am come by chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this fweet Lafs of France. If your ladyship would fay, thanks,-Pompey, I had done.

Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Coft. 'Tis not fo much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect. I made a little fault in great.

Biron. My hat to a half-penny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter Nathaniel for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's Commander;

By east, weft, north and fouth, I spread my conquering might:

My Scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alifander.

Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it ftands too right.

Biron. Your nofe fmells, no, in this, moft tender fmelling Knight.

Prin. The Conqueror is difmaid: proceed, good Alexander.

*With Libbard's head on knee.] This alludes to the old heroic Habits, which on the Knees and Shoulders had ufually, by Way of Omament, the Refemblance of a Leopard's or Lion's Head.

Nath.