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You gave me this; but take it, sir, again.

KING. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

PRIN. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear :What; will you have me, or your pearl again?

BIRON. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on 't :-Here was a consent, (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy:

Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight

zany,

Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,

That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick

To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd,-
Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn: in will, and error.
Much upon this it is:*-And might not you,
[To BOYET.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd ;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Full merrily

b

BOYET. Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. BIRON. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have done.

Enter COSTARD.

Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. COST. O Lord, sir, they would know,

(*) Old copies, 'tis.

a That smiles his cheek in years;] One that by incessant grinning wears his face into wrinkles. Thus, in the Merchant of Venice," Act I. Sc. 1,

"With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come."

b By the squire,-] From the French esquiere, a square, or rule. e Go, you are allow'd;] That is, you are hired, licensed as a fool or jester,"There is no slander in an allow'd fool." Twelfth Night, Act I. Sc. 5.

d Hath this brare manage,-] The quarto has nuage, and the folio, 1623, manager.

e Pompey the great;] Some surprise has been expressed at Costard's first pronouncing the name Pompion, and then giving it, immediately after, correctly; but his former speeches show either

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hope, it is not so:

You cannot beg us, (6) sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know;

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—
BIRON.
Is not nine.
COST. Under correction, sir, we know where-
until it doth amount.

BIRON. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

COST. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

BIRON, How much is it?

COST. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount : for mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man, in one poor man; Pompion the great, sir.

BIRON. Art thou one of the Worthies?

COST. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey 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.

COST. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [Exit COSTARD. KING. Biron, they will shame us, let them not

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f

Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents,-]

This passage, as it stands, looks like a printer's jumble. Some editors have attempted to render it intelligible by substituting die for dies, and them for that; and others, lies, in place of dies. Perhaps we should read:

Where zeal strives to content, and discontent Dies in the zeal of them which it present. Shakespeare has before indulged in the same antithesis,"Sister, content you in my discontent."

Taming of the Shrew, Act I. Sc. 1.

Enter ARMADO.

ARM. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers him a paper.

PRIN. Doth this man serve God?
BIRON. Why ask you?

PRIN. He speaks not like a man of God's making.

ARM. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceedingly fantastical; too-too vain; too-too vain: But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra.* I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit ARMADO.

KING. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus.

And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the other five.

BIRON. There is five in the first show. KING. You are deceiv'd, 't is not so. BIRON. The pedant, the braggart, the hedgepriest, the fool, and the boy :— Abate

throw at novum; and the whole world again

Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein.

KING. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

[Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c.

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COST. It is great, sir ;-Pompey surnam❜d the great;

That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance;

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.

If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I had done.

PRIN. Great thanks, great Pompey.

COST. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in great. BIRON. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL, armed, for Alexander.

NATH. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:

My 'scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander. BOYET. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

BIRON. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight.

PRIN. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander.

NATH. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander.

BOYET. Most true, 't is right; you were so,
Alisander.
BIRON. Pompey the great,-

COST.

Your servant, and Costard. BIRON. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

COST. O, sir [to NATH.], you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afcard* to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.] There, an 't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see how 't is;-a little o'erparted:-But there are Worthies. a coming will speak their mind in some other

sort.

PRIN. Stand aside, good Pompey.

(*) First folio, afraid. "Abate a throw," &c.

b You lie,-] We must supp se that, on his entrance, Costard prostrates himself before the court; hence Boyet's joke.

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BOYET. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion. DUм. The carved 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 toothdrawer. And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

HOL. You have put me out of countenance.
BIRON. False: we have given thee faces.
HOL. But you have out-fac'd them all.

BIRON. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. BOYET. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

DUM. For the latter end of his name.

BIRON. For the ass to the Jude; give it him; -Jud-as,(8) away!

HOL. This is not generous; not gentle; not humble.

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BOYET. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble.

PRIN. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been baited!

Enter ARMADO, armed, for Hector.

BIRON. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

DUM. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

KING. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.

BOYET. But is this Hector?

DUM. I think Hector was not so clean-timbered. LONG. His leg is too big for Hector.

DUM. More calf, certain.

BOYET. No; he is best indued in the small.
BIRON. This cannot be Hector.

DUM. He's a god or a painter; for he makes

faces.

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ARM. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. LONG. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

DUм. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

ARM. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man"—But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty [to the PRINCESS], bestow on me the sense of hearing.

[BIRON whispers COSTARD. PRIN. Speak, brave Hector: we are much

delighted.

ARM. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
BOYET. Loves her by the foot.

DUM. He may not by the yard.

ARM. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,— COST. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

(+) Old copies, yen.

(*) First folio omits Peace. the quarto. The folio, 1623, omits them.

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COST. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword:-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

DUM. Room for the incensed Worthies.
COST. I'll do it in my shirt.
DUM. Most resolute Pompey !

MоTH. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What 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, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.

Enter MERCADF.

MER. God save you, madam!
PRIN. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

MER. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring

Is heavy in my tongue. The king, your fatherPRIN. Dead, for my life.

MER. Even so; my tale is told.

BIRON. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud.

ARM. For mine own part, I breathe free breath : I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. KING, How fares your majesty? PRIN. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. KING. Madam, not so; 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 borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain’d.

C

KING. The extreme parts of time extremely forms

All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny

Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,

The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since 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 so wholesome-profitable,

As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

PRIN. I understand you not; my griefs are double."

(*) Folio, 1623, he.

a I go wool ward for penance.] To go woolward, i. e. to go with a woollen garment next the skin, was a penance appointed for pilgrims and penitents; and from this arose the saying, when any one was shirtless, that he went woolward. Thus, in Lodge's "Incarnate Devils," 15 6,-"His common course is to go always untrust; except when his shirt is a washing, and then he goes woolward."

And in Samuel Rowland's collection of Epigrams and Satyres, which he quaintly intitules, "The Letting of Humour's blood in the Head-Vaine," &c., Satyre 4:-

"He takes a common course to goe untrust,
Except his shirt 's a washing; then he must
Goe wool-ward for the time."

b A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue:] I am very doubtful of the genuineness of this line; the true lection is probably,— "A heavy heart bears but a humble tongue."

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Mr.

c The extreme parts of time-] The word parts here is an admitted mis, rint. Mr. Singer proposes to substitute haste. Collier's corrector rewrites the line,

"The extreme parting time expressly forms," &c. A much slighter change will render the sense clear. I would read,

"The extreme dart of time extremely forms

All causes to the purpose of his speed," &c. And I am strengthened in my belief that paris is a corruption for dart or shaft by the next line,

"And often, at his very loose, decides," &c.

(*) First folio, so.

To loose an arrow is to discharge it from the bow:-"th' Archers terme, who is not said to finish the feate of his shot before he give the loose, and deliuer his arrow from his bow."-PUTIENHAM'S Arte of English Poesie, 158, p. 145.

Thus, in " Midsummer-Night's Dream," Act II. Sc. 1,—

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"And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts." So also in Ben Jonson's " Every Man out of His Humour,' Act III. Sc. 3 (Gifford's Edition): "her brain's a very quiver of jests! and she does dart them abroad with that sweet loose, and judicial aim, that you would — ' &c. Where, from not knowing, strangely enough, the technical meaning of this term, the accomplished editor has punctuated the passage thus,"She does dart them abroad with that sweet, loose, and judicial aim," &c.

By the extreme dart of time, the King means as he directly after explains it," The latest minute of the hour."

d Which fain it would convince;] To e nvince is to conquer, So in Macbeth," Act I. Sc. 7,

overcome.

"his two chamberlains

Will I with wine and wassel so convince," &c.

to

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