Boy. Who is the fhooter? who is the shooter? Rof. Shall I teach you to know? Boy. Ay, my continent of beauty, Rof. Why, the that bears the bow. Finely put off!

Boy. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on!

Rof. Well then, I am the shooter.

Boy. And who is your deer?

Rof. If we choofe by the horns, yourself: come not Finely put on, indeed!

[near Mar. You ftill wrangle with her, Boyet, and she ftrikes at the brow.

Boy. But the 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 Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boy. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

Rof. Thou canft not hit it, hit it, hit it, [Singing, Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

Boy. An I cannot, cannot, cannot,

An I cannot, another can.

[Exeunt Ros. and CATH.

Coft. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it! Mar. A mark marvellous well fhot; for they both

did hit it.

Boy. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A mark, fays my lady!

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it

may be.

Mar

Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith, your hand

is out.

Coft. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.

Boy. An if my hand be out, then, belike your hand is in.

Coft. Then will fhe get the upfhot by cleaving the pin. Mar. Come, come, you talk greafily, your lips grow foul.

Coft. She's too hard for you at pricks, fir; challenge her to bowl.

owl.

Boy. I fear too much rubbing; Good night, my good [Exeunt BOYET and MARIA. Coft. By my foul, a fwain! a most simple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, moft fweet jefts! most incony vulgar wit! When it comes fo fmoothly off, fo obfcenely, as it were, fo fit.

Armatho o' the one fide,-O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To fee him kifs his hand! and how moft fweetly a'
will fwear!-

And his page o' t'other fide, that handful of wit!
Ah heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!

Sola, fola!

SCENE.

[Shouting within.

[Exit

Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the teftimony of a good confcience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, in fanguis, blood; ripe as a pomewater, who hangeth like a jewel in the ear of calo,-the sky, the welkin, the heaven ;

D 2

and

and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,the foil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, mafter Holofernes, the epithets are fweetly varied, like a scholar at the leaft; But, fir, I affure ye, 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 infinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication ; facere, as it were, replication; or, rather, oftentare, to fhew, as it were, his inclination,-after his undreffed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or, rathereft, unconfirmed fashion,—to infert again my haud credo for a deer.

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

Hol. Twice fod fimplicity, bis cous! O thou monster ignorance, how deformed doft thou look!

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of 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 fenfible in the duller parts;

And fuch barren plants are set before us, that we thankful fhould be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indifcreet, or a fool,

So, were there a patch fet on learning, to fee him in a fchool:

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

Dull.

Dull. 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. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good man Dull.

Dull. What is Dictydna?

Nath. A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the moon. Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam was

no more;

And raught not to five weeks, when he came to five The allufion holds in the exchange.

[score. Dull. 'Tis true, indeed; the collufion holds in the

exchange.

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

Dull. And I fay, the pollufion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: and I fay befide, that 'twas a pricket that the princefs kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have called the deer the princefs kill'd, a pricket.

Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; fo it fhall please you to abrogate fcurrillity.

. Hol. I will fomething affect the letter: for it argues facility.

"The praifeful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleafing pricket;

"Some fay, a fore; but not a fore, 'till now made fore with shooting.

"The dogs did yell; put 1 to fore, then forel jumps

from thicket; hooting. "Or pricket, fore, or else forel; the people fall a

D 3

" It

"If fore be fore, then L to fore makes fifty fores;

"O fore L!

[more L." "Of one fore I an hundred make, by adding but one Nath. A rare talent!

Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

Hol. This is a gift that I have, fimple, fimple; a foolish extravagant fpirit, full of forms, figures, fhapes, objects, ideas, apprehenfions, motions, revolutions: thefe are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and deliver'd upon the mellowing of occafion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.

Nath. Sir, I praife the Lord for you; and fo may my parishioners; for their fons are well tutor❜d by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you you are a good member of the commonwealth.

Hol. Mebercle, if their fons be ingenious, they fhall want no inftruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them: But, vir fapit, qui pauca loquitur ; a foul feminine faluteth us.

Enter JAQUENETTA, and COSTARD.

Jaq. God give you good morrow, mafter perfon. Hol. Mafter perfon,-quafi perf on. And if one fhould be pierc'd, which is the one?

Caf. Marry, mafter fchoolmafter, he that is likeft to a hogfhead,

Hol. Of piercing a hogfhead! a good luftre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a fwine: 'tis pretty; it is well.

Fag. Good mafter parfon, be fo good as read me this letter; it was given me by Coftard, and fent me from Don Armatho: I befeech you, read it.

Hol