Enter Coftard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou parteft 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 assure 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 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.

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 worse than the King's and his Company.

King. I fay, they shall not come.

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

Their form, confounded, makes moft form in mirth; When great things, labouring, perish in their birth. Biron. A right description 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 ask 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 fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, moft royal coupplement.

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

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

Biron. There are five in the firft 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 ship is under fail, and here fhe comes

amain.

Enter Coltard for Pompey.

am

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. You lic, 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 fhield,

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 sweet 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 nofe fays, no, you are not; for it ftands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, 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 usually, by Way of Ornament, the Resemblance of a Leopard's or Lion's Head.

Nath.

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 Cofiard.

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 pollax fitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax; he will be then the ninth Worthy. A Conqueror, and afraid to fpeak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honeft man, look you, and foon dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, infooth, and a very good bowler; but for Alifander, alas, you fee, how 'tis a little o'erparted: 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 fhrimp,

Thus did he ftrangle ferpents in his manus:

Quoniam, he feemeth in minority;

Ergo, I come with this apology.

Keep fome state 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.

Judas?

Hol. Judas I am.

How art thou prov'd

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.

Nol. 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 seep. Boyet. The pummel of Cafar's faulchion.

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

Biron. St. George's half check in a brooch.

Dun. 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 fo.
Boyet. Therefore as he is an afs, let him go.

And fo adieu, fweet Jude; nay, why doft thou ftay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the Afs to the Jude: give it him. Jud-as

away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monfieur Judas; it grows dark, he may ftumble.

Prin. Alas poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited!

Enter Armado.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, now be merry.

I will

King.