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 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 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 pleafed 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 Colt. Biron. We are fhame-proof, my lord; and 'tis fome policy

To have one Show worse than the King's and his Com

pany.

King. I fay, they shall not come.

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

Their form, confounded, makes most form in mirth ; When great things, labouring, perish in their birth. Biran, A right defcription of our sport, my lord.

Enter

Enter Armado.

Arm. Anointed, I implore fo much expence of thy royal fweet 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 schoolmafter is exceeding fantastical ; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they fay, to fortuna de la I wish you guerra. the peace of mind, moft royal coupplement.

King. Here is like to be a good prefence 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 first Show thrive, These four will change habits, and prefent the other five.. Biron. There are five in the first Show.

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

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 he comes amain.

Enter Coftard for Pompey.

Coft. I Pompey am→→→

Boyet. Youlye, you are not he.

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. With Libbard's head on knee.

Biron. Well faid, old mocker: I must 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 field,

Did make my foe to fweat ::

4.5.

And!

And travelling along this coaft, I here am

chance ;

And lay my arms before the legs of this fweet Lass 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.

Bojet. Your nofe fays, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

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

Prin. The Conqueror is difmaid: proceed, good Alexander.

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

Boyet. Molt 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, will be given to Ajax ; he will be then the ninth Worthy. A Conqueror, and afraid to Speak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't fhall pleafe 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 Alifander,

Alifander, 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, Whose 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;

Keep fome state in thy Exit, and vanish.

Ergo, I come with this apology.

Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Ifcariot, Sir;

Judas I am, cleped Machabeus.

[Exit Moth.

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?

Bayet. 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 feen.

Boyet. The pummel of Cafar's faulchion.

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

Biron. St. George's half-cheek 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 counte

nance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance.

Birar. Falfe; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out fac'd them all.
Biron. Anthou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore as he is an afs, let him go.
An 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 Heor in arms.

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

King. Hector was but a Trojan in refpect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?

King. I think, Hector was not fo clean-timber'd.

Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is beft indu'd in the small.

Biron. This can't be Hector.

Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift,-

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

A man fo breath'd, that certain he would fight ye
'till night, out of his pavilion.

From

morn

I am that Flower.

Dum. That mint.

Long. That cu lambine.

Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Long.