Biron. Neither of either: I remit both twain.
I fee the trick on't; here was a confent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dafh 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 jeers, and knows the trick (48)
To make my Lady laugh, when he'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.
Foreftal our fport, 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 shroud.
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.
Enter Coftard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou parteft a fair fray.
Ceft. 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 purfents three.

Biron. And three times thrice is nine?

(48). That fmiles his check in years,] Thus the whole fet of impreffions: but I cannot for my heart comprehend the fenfe of this phrafe. I am perfuaded, I have reftor'd the poets word and meaning. Boyet's character was that of a fleerer, jeerer, mocker, carping blade.

Coft.

Coft. Not fo, Sir, under correction, Sir; I hope, it 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 themfelves, 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, Šir.

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?

Coft. 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 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 fhame us; let them not approach: [Exit Coft. Biron. We are fhame-proof, my Lord; and 'tis fome

policy

To have one fhow 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 pleafes, that doth leaft 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, perish in their birth. Biron. A right defcription of our fport, my Lord.. Enter Armado.

Arm. Anointed, I implore fo much expence of thy oyal fweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. Prin. Doth this man ferve God?

-Biron.

Biron. Why afk you?

Prin. He fpeaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair sweet honey monarch; for, I proteft, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; '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 cupplement.

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 Her, cules, the pedant Judas Machabeus.

And if thefe four worthies in their firft fhow thrive, Thefe four will change habits, and prefent the other five. Biron. There are five in the firft fhow.

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

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, 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.

Boyet. With Libbard's head on knee. (49)

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

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

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

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 feet lofs of France. If your Lady fhip would fay, "thanks Pompey, I had done.

149)- --with Libbard's bead on knee.] This alludes to thofe oldfashion'd garments, upon the knees and elbows of which it was frequent to have, by way of ornament, a Leopard's, or Lion's head. This accoutrement the French call'd une mafquine.

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 beft 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 'fcutcheon plain declares that I am Alifander.

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

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

Prin. The conqueror is difmay'd: proceed, good

Alexander.

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

Boyet. Moft true, 'tis right; you were fo, Alifander. Biron. Pompey the Great,

Coft. Your fervant and Coftard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alifander. Coft. O Sir, you have overthrown Alifander the conqueror. [to Nath.] You will be fcraped out of the painted cloth for this; your lion, that holds the poll-ax fitting on a clofe-ftool (50), will be given to A-jax; he will be then the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afraid to

(50) Your lion that holds the poll-ax fitting on a clofeftool,] Alexander the Great, as one of the nine worthies, bears gules; a lion, or, feiant in a chair, holding a battle-ax argent. Vid. Ger. Leigh's Accidence of Armouries.— But why, because Nathaniel had behaved ill as Alexander, was that worthy's lion and poll-ax to be given to Ajax? Coftard, the clown, has a conceit in this very much of a piece with his character. The name of Ajax is equivocally us'd by him; and he means, the infignia of fuch a conqueror, as the curate exhibited in his wretched reprefentation, ought to be given to a fakes ---fit verbo reverentia! the fame fort of conundrum is ufed by B. Jonfon at the clofe of his poem, call'd, The famous Voyage.

And I could wifh, for their eterniz'd fakes,
My mufe had plow'd with his that fung A-jax,

Speak

fpeak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't fhall please you; a foolish mild man; an honeft man, look you, and foon dafh'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, infooth, and a very good bowler; but for Alijander, alas, you fee, how 'tis a little o'er-parted: but there are worthies a coming will speak their mind

in fome other fort.

Biron. Stand afide, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is prefented by this imp,

Whofe club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he ftrangle ferpents in his manus :

Quoniam, he feemeth in minority;

Ergo, I come with this apology.

Keep fome ftate in thy Exit, and vanish. [Exit Moth. Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Ifcariot, Sir;

Judas I am, ycleped Machabeus.

Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.

Biron. A kiffing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas?

Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. The more fhame 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 haft 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, fcarce feent

Boyet. The pummel of Cæfar's faulchion.

Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flafk.

Biron. St. George's half cheek in a brooch.
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.