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Long. His leg is too big for Heftor.
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 breathed, that certain he would fight ye

From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower.

Dum. That mint.
Long. That cullambine.
Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector.

Dim. Ay, and Hector's a grey hound.

Arm. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten;
Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the bury'd:
But I will forward with my device;
Sweet Royalty, bestow on me the fense of hearing.

Prin. Speak, brave Hector ; we are much delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet Grace's flipper,
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.
Dum. He may not, by the yard.
Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal ().

Coft. The Party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; The is two months on her way.

Arm. What mean'! thou?

(51) This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.

The party is gone All the Editions ftupidly have plac'd these laft Words as part of Armado's Speech in the Interlude. I have ventur'd to give them to Cotard, who is for putting Armado out of his Part, by telling him the Party (i. e. his Mistress Jaquenetta,) is gone two Months with Child by him.

Coft.

by him.

Coff. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor

wench is cast away; The's quick, the child brags in her belly already. 'Tis yours.

Arm. Doft thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou shalt die.

Coft. Then shall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetra, that
is quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!
Pompey the huge!

Dum. HeEtor trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd; more Ates, more Ates, ftir them on, stir them on.

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.

Arm. By the north-pole, I do challenge thee.

Coff. I will not fight with a pole like a northern man: I'll flash; I'll do't by the Sword : I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies.
Coft. I'll do't in my shirt. .
Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do ye not see,Pompey is uncaling for the combat : whac mean you ? you will lose your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you for't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, (52) and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linnen; since when, I'll be sworn he wore

none, ( 52) And it was injoin'd him in Rome for Want of Linnen ] ShakeSprare certainly alludes here to a famous Story, a Matter of Fact that

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none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's, and that he wcars next his heart for a Favour.

Enter Macard. Mac. God save you, Madam.

Prin. Welcome, Macard, but that thou interrupteft our mcrriment.

Mac. I'm sorry, Madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father Prin. Dead, for my

life. Mac. Even so: my Tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the Scene begins to cloud.'

Arm. For my own part, I breathe free breath; I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my self like a soldier.

[Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your Majesty ? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to night. King, Madam, not fo; I do beseech you, stay.

Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide, The liberal opposition of our spirits ; If over-boldly we have born our selves In the converse of breath, your gentleness Was guilty of it. Farewel, worthy lord; An heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: (53)

Exa happen'd at Rome, sometime, I think, before his Time. A Spaniard fell in a Duel : In his last Moments one of his most intimate Friends chanc'd to come by, condold with him, and offer'd his best Service. The Dying Person told him he had but One Request to make to him, and conjurd him by the Memory of their long Friendship punctually to comply with It: which was, not to suffer him to be stript as usual, but to bury him in the Condition, and very Habit he was then in. When This was promis’d, the Spaniard clos'd his Eyes, with great Composure and Satisfaction. But his Friend's Curiosity prevail'd over his Obligations, and desiring to know the Reason of io uncommon a Requeft, so earnestly press'd, he had him stripp'd; and found, to his great Surprize, he was without a Shirt.

Mr. Warburton. (53) An heavy heart bears not an humble Tongue.] Thus all the Edi. tions; but, surely, without either Sense or Truth. None are more hum

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Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks,
For my great Suit so easily obtain'd.

King. The extreme part of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides
That, which long Procefs could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of Progeny
Forbid the smiling courtcfie of love;
The holy fuit which fain it would convince;
Yet fince love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purpos'd : Since, to wail friends lost,
Is not by much fo wholsome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double.

Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of griefz And by these badges understand the King. For your fair fakes have we neglected time, Play'd foul Play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies, Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours Even to th' opposed end of our intents ; And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Form'd by the eye, and therefore like the eye, Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth rowl, To every varied object in his glance ; Which party-coated presence of loose love Put on by us, if, in your heav'nly eyes, Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities; Those heav'nly eyes, that look into these faults, Suggested us to make them: therefore, ladies, Our love being yours, the error that love makes Is likewise yours.

We to our selves prove false, By being once false, for ever to be true

ble in Speech, than they who labour under any Oppression. The Prina cefs is defiring, her Grief may apologize for her not exprelling her Obli. gations at large; and my Correction is conformable to that Sentiment. VOL. II.

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To those that make us both; fair ladies, you :
And even that falfhood, in it self a sin,
Thus purifies it self, and turns to grace,

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love,
Your Favours, the embassadors of love :
And in our maiden council rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesie;
As bumbast, and as lining to the time :
But more devout, than these are our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, shew'd much more than

jest.
Long. So did our looks.
Roja. We did not coat them fo.

King. Now at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time, methinks, too short,
To make a world-without-end bargain in ;
No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore, this
If for my love (as there is no such caufe)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me;
Your oath I will not trust; but

go

with speed
To some forlorn and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world ;
There stay until the twelve celestial Signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere infociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood ;
If froits, and fafts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy bloffoms of your love,
But that it bear this tryal, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me ; challenge me, by these deserts;
And by this virgin palm, now kiffing thine,
I will be thine; and 'till that instant thuc
My woful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.

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