Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that, which you inherit.
Prin. See, fee, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefie in fair, fit for these days!

A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praife.
But come, the bow; now mercy goes to kill,
And fhooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I fave my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to fhew my Skill;
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of queftion, fo it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted crimes;

When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now seek to spill

The

poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that self-sovereignty' Only for praife-fake, when they ftrive to be Lords o'er their lords?

Το

Prin. Only for praise; and praise we may afford any lady, that fubdues her lord.

Enter Coftard:

Boyet. Here comes a member of the common-wealth.

Coft. God dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the higheft?

Prin. The thickeft and the tallest.

An'

Caft. The thickest and the tallest it is fo, truth is

truth.

your wafte, mistress, were as flender as my wit, One of thefe maids girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickeft

here.

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will?

Coft.

Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron, to one lady Rofaline.

Prin. O thy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of

mine.

Stand afide, good bearer.

Break up this capon.

Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I fwear.

Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

BY

Boyet reads.

Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth it felf, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth it felf; have commiferation on thy heroical vaffal. The magnanimous and moft illuftrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (O bafe and obfcure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, faw, and overcame; he came, one; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What faw he the beggar. Who overcame he? the beggar. The conclufion is victory; on whofe fide? the King's; the captive is inrich'd: on whofe fide? the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial on whofe fide? the

(15) Boyet, you can carve:

Break up this Capon ] i. e. open this Letter. Our Poet ufes this Metaphor, as the French do their Poulet; which fignifies both a young Fowl, and a Love-letter. Poulet, amatoria Littera; fays Richelet: and quotes from Voiture, Répondre au plus obligeant Poulet du Monde; To reply to the most obliging Letter in the World. The Italians ufe the fame manner of Expreffion, when they call a Love-Epiftle, una Pollicetta amorofa. I ow'd the Hint of this equivocal ufe of the Word to my ingenious Friend Mr. Bishop,

King's?

King's no, on both in one, or one in both: I am ? the King, (for fo ftands the comparison) thou the beggar, for fo witneffeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What fhalt thou exchange for rags ? robes; for tittles? titles: for thy felf? me. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

Thine in the dearest defign of industry,

Don Adriano de Armado.'

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainft thee, thou lamb, that ftandeft as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play.

But if thou ftrive (poor foul) what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repafture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter?

What vane ? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

Royet. I am much deceived, but I remember the ftile. Prin. Elfe your memory is bad, going o'er it ere while.

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in
Court,

A phantafme, a monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou, fellow, a word:

Who gave thee this letter?

Cof. I told you; my lord.

Prin. To whom should't thou give it?

Coft. From my lord to my lady.

Prin. From which lord to which lady?

Coft. From my lord Berown, a good master of mine,

To a lady of France, that he call'd Rofaline.

Prin. Thou haft miftaken his letter. Come, lords,

away.

Here,

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day
[Exit Princess attended
Boyet. Who is the fhooter? who is the fhooter ?
Rof. Shall I teach you to know?

Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.

Rof. Why, fhe that bears the bow. Finely put off. Boyet. 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 fhooter.
Boyet. And who is your Deer?

Rof. If we chufe by horns, your felf;
Finely put on, indeed.

Mar. You ftill wrangle with her, ftrikes at the brow.

Boyet. But the her felf is hit lower. now?

come not near.

Boyet, and the

Have I hit her

Rof. Shall I come upon thee with an old faying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit-it?

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

Rof. Thou can't not hit it, hit it, hit it. [Singing. Thou can't not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An' I cannot, cannot, cannot ;

An' I cannot, another can.

[Exit Rof.

Coft. By my troth, moft pleafant; how both did

fit it.

Mar. A mark marvellous well fhot; for they both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark? O, mark but that mark! a mark, fays my lady;

Let the mark have a prick in't; to meet at, if it may be.

Mar. Wide o' th' bow-hand; i'faith, your hand is

out.

Coft. Indeed, a' muft fhoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.

Bovet. An' if my hand be out then belike your hand

Caft. 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, Sir, challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; good night my good owl. [Exeunt all but Coftard. Coft. By my foul, a fwain; a moft fimple clown! Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, most sweet jefts, moft in-cony vulgar wit, When it comes fo fmoothly off, fo obfcenely; as it were, fo fit.

Armado o' th' one fide,-O, a most dainty man;

To fee him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan.
To fee him kifs his hand, and how moft fweetly he
will fwear:

And his Page o' t'other fide, that handful of Wit;
Ah, heav'ns! it is a moft pathetical Nit.

[Exit Coftard. [Shouting within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathaniel. Nath. Very reverend fport, truly; and done in the teftimony of a good Confcience.

Hol. The deer was (as you know) fanguis, in blood; ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Calo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n; 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, Sir, 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 fhow, as it were his inclination; after his undreffed, unpolifhed, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather

unlet