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Boyet reads. BY

Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;

true, that thou art beauteous; truth it self, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth it self; have commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (o base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, faw, and overcame; he came, one ; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What. saw he? the beggar. Who overcame he ? the beggar. The conclusion is victory; on whose fide ? the King's ; the captive is inrich'd: on whose side? the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial : on whose side? the King's? no, on both in one, or one in both : I am the King, (for so stands the comparison) thou the beggar, for fo witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I como mand thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes ; for tittles? titles : for thy self? 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 design of industry,

Don Adriano de Armado. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his preyi Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And hè from forage will incline to play. But if thou strive (poor soul) what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den. Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this

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


Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the stile. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it ere

while. Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in

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

Prin. Thou, fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?

Cojt. I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom should'st 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 Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords,

away Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day.

[Exit Princess attended. Boyet. Who is the shooter ? who is the shooter ? Rofa, Shall I teach you to know? Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty. Rosa. Why, she 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

Rola Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet. And who is your Deer?

Roja. If we chuse by horns, your self; come not near.
Finely put on), indeed
Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she

Itrikes at the brow. Boyet. But she her self is hit lower. Have I hit

hcr now? Rosa. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, 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.


Rosa. Thou can't not bit it, hit it, hit it. [Singing. Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot ; An I cannot, another can.

[Exit Rola. Coft. By my troth, most pleasant ; how both did

fit it. Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both

did hit it. Boyet. A mark? O, mark but that mark! a mark,

says 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


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

hit the clout. Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike your hand

is in. Cot. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the

pin. Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow

foul. Coff. She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir, chal

lenge her to bowl. Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; good night, my good owl.

[Exeunt all but Costard. Coft. By my soul, a fwain; a moft fimple clown. Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O’my troth, most sweet jefts, most incony vulgarwit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obfcenely, as it

were, fo fit. Armado o’th one side, — 0, a most dainty man; To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan. To see him kiss his hand, and how most sweetly he

will swear : And his Page o't'other Gide, that handfull of Wit; Ah, heav'ns! it is a most pathetical Nit.

[Exit Costard.


[Shouting within, Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathaniel. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the teftimony of a good Conscience.

Hol. The deer was (as you know) fanguis, in blood; ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Cælo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of Terra, the foil, the land, the earth.

Natb. Truly, mafter Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least : but, Sir, I affure


it was a buck of the firft head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. Dull. 'Twas not a baud credo, 'ewas a pricket.

Hol. Most 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 show, as it were, his inclination; after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather untettered, or rathereft unconfirmed fashion, to infert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said, the deer was not a baud credo ; 'twas a pricker.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus; O thou monker ignorance, how deformed doft thou look?

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed on the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper, as iç were ; he hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not replenished. He is only an animal, only senfible in the duller parts; (20) and such barren plants are set before (20)

And such barren Plants are set before us, that we thankful should be ; which we taste, and feeling are for those Parts that do fructify in us more than he.] If this be not a stubborn Piece of Nonsense, Pll never venture to judge of common Sense. That Editors

take fuch Passages upon Content, is, surely, furprising. The Words, 'tis plain, have been ridiculoully, and stupidly, transpos d and corrupted. The Emendation I have offer'd, I hope, restores the Author ; At least, I am sure, it gives him Sense and Grammar : and answers extremely well to his Metaphors taken from planting. Ingradare, with the Italians, fignifies, to rise higher and higher ; andare di grado in grado, to make a Progression ; and so at length

come to fructifs, as the Pcet cxprefles it

Mr. Warburton.


us, that we thankful should be for those parts, (which we' taste and feel, ingradare) that do fructify in us, more than He. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet,

or a fools So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in

a school. But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind. 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. Diętynna, good-man Dull; Dictynna, good-man Dull.

Dull. What is Diętynna ?
Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the Moon.
Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam was

no more:

And rought not to five weeks, when he came to five

score. Thallusion holds in the exchange.

Dull.' 'Tis true, indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say, the pollution hoids in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old; and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the Princess kill'd.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal eç pitaph on the death of the deer? and to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the Princess kill'd, a pricker.

Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge ; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility

The praiseful Princess pierc'd and prickt

A pretty pleasing pricket.
Some say, a jure ; but not a fore,
'Till now made fore with footing.


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