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 thrice 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 whereuntil 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 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 Company.

King. I fay, they fhall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.

Where

Where zeal ftrives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents;
Their form, confounded, makes most form in mirth
;
When great things, labouring, perish in their birth.
Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.
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 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 presence of Worthies: he prefents Hector of Troy, the fwain Pompey the Great, the parifh-curate Alexander, Armado's page Hercules, the pedant Judas Machabeus.

And if these four Worthies in their firft Show thrive, Thefe four will change habits, and present the other five. Biron. There are five in the first 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 hip is under fail, and here she comes amain.

Enter Coftard for Pompey.

Coft. 1 Pompey am

Boyet. You lye, you are not he.

Coft. I Pompey am —

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

(49)

with Libbard's head 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.

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 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 fweet Lass of France.

If your ladyfhip 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 South, 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, most tender smelling Knight.

Prin. The Conqueror is difmaid: 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 scraped out of the paint

ed

ed cloth for this; your lion, that holds the poll-ax fitting on a close-stool (ro), will be given to A-jax; he will be then the ninth Worthy. A Conqueror, and afraid to speak? 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 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, 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;

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. How aft thou prov'd Judas?
Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. The more fhame for you, Judas.

(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-axe argent. Vid, Ger. Leigh's Accidence of Armouries..-- But why, becaufe Nathaniel had behav'd ill as Alexander, was that Worthy's Lion and Poll-axe 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 Representation, ought to be given to a fakes ; --- fit Verbo Reverentia! The fame fort of Conundrum is used by B. Jonfon at the Clofe of his Poem, call'd, The famous Voyage.

And I could wish, for their eterniz'd fakes,

My Mufe had plow'd with his that fung A-jax.

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 feen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cæfar'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.
Biron. Falfe; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.

Biron. And 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, 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.