As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the sense of sense: so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry beaten with pure scoff! King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music and Attendants. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. -Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight? Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Birón was out of countenance quite. Ros. O they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point,* quoth I, and my servant straight was mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, sickness as thou art! [heart; Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and King. Fair Sir, God save you! Where is Boyet. Gone to her tent, Please it your majesCommand me any service to her thither? [ty, King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my pease; And utters it again when God doth please : Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain sta- That put Armado's page out of his part! tute-caps.t But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Birón hath plighted faith [born. to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service Boyet. They will, they will, God knows; And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in the summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. Boyet. Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud: [shown, Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture Are angels veiling clouds, or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? A quibble on the French adverb of negation. Better wits may be found among citizens. 4 Features, countenances. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit: here they staid an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have poor. Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye, Biron. I am a fool and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. Ros. All the fool mine? Biron. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that visor, that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confess and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad? Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale?— Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out?Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me: Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a [rance; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignoCut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance, flout; I do forswear them; and I here protest, Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd Biron. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick; Some fair excuse. Prin. The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even now disguis'd? Prin. And were you well advis'd? 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 she shall challenge this, you As precious eye-sight; and did value me I never swore this lady such an oath. You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :— What; will you have me, or your pearl again? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on't;-Here was a consent,† (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy: [zany,+ Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight * Make no difficulty. Conspiracy. + Buffoon. Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, | [trick You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye, Boyet. Full merrily Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and deli- Prin. Doth this man serve God? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit ARMADO. King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pe Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. Enter COSTArd. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. Cost. O Lord, Sir, they would know, [no. Biron. And three times thrice is nine. You cannot beg us, Sir, I can assure you, Sir; I hope, Sir, three times thrice, Sir,— Biron. Is not nine. Cost. Under correction, Sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Cost. O Lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, Sir. Biron. How much is it? Cost. O Lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man ; Pompion the great, Sir. Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? Cost. It pleased 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 stand for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. Cost. We will turn it finely off, Sir; we will take some care. [Exit COSTARD. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the king's and And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. "Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy. Enter NATHANIEL armed, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might: [der. My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am AlisanBoyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. *A game with dice. ↑ Pick out Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight. • Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander ; Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. Biron. Pompey the great, Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. Cost. O, Sir, [To NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted:-But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort. Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and MOTH armed, for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus. And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minority; Ergo, I come with this apology.— The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea Dum. That mint. Long. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector. Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the PRINCESS.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Dum. He may not by the yard. [bal, Arm. This Hector far surmounted HanniCost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way. Arm. What meanest thou? Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey ! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey, Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. a Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee, Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man ;* I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword: -I pray you let me borrow my arms again. Dum Room for the incensed worthies. Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Moth. Master let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, 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 reason have you for't? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolwardt for penance. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that a' wears next his heart, for a favour. Enter MERCADE. Mer. God save you, madam! But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Is heavy in my tongue. The king, your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, King. The extreme parts of time extremely All causes to the purpose of his speed; [form And often, at his very loose, decides That which long process could not arbitrate: [lost, Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the king. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, † Clothed in wool, without linen, • A clown. Free to excess. Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Your favours, the ambassadors of love; Ros. We did not quotet them so. Prin. A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in: No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this,If for my love (as there is no such cause) You will do aught, this shall you do for me: Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed To some forlorn and naked hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world; There stay, until the twelve celestial signs Have brought about their annual reckoning: If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,‡ Nip not the gaudy blossoms of our love, King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are |