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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, Ali

sander. 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-ar sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy 59. 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'er-parted:-But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes arm'd, for Judas, and Moth

arm'd, for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill d Cerberus, that three-headed

canus;

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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.-
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. (Exit Moth.

Hol. Judas I am, -
Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.-
Judas I am, y'cleped Machabæus.,

Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron. A kissing traitor:-How art thou prov'd

Judas?
Hol. Judas I am,-
Dum. The more shame 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. Because thou hast 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 seen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.
Biron. St. George's half-check 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 coun

tenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. False; we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name. Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him:

Jud-as, away. Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not bumble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark,

he

may stumble. Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been

baited!

Enter ARMADO arm'd, for Hector. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?
Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.
Dum. More calf, certain.
Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron. This cannot 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 6o.
Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace!
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea,

From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,
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 de

lighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.
Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,

Cost. 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!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd:—More Ates, more Ates 61; stir them on! stir them on!

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.

Cast. 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 wortbies.
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.
Dum. Most resolute Pompey!
Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower.

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