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Enter Costard.
Welcome, pure wit, thou partest a fair fray,

Coft. Olord, Sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies shall 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 so, Sir, under correction, Sir; I hope, it is not so. You cannot beg us, Sir; I can assure 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 shew whereuntil it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as they say, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, Şir.

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 some care.

King. Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach.

[Exit Coit. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis To have one Show worse than the King's and his Com

pany.
King. I say, they shall not come.

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

Where

some policy

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Where zeal strives 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 so much expence of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.

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 proteft, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal cupplement.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies : he presents Heator of Troy, the swain 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 present 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 such, take each one in's vein. King. The ship is under fail, and here the comes amain.

Enter Coftard for Pompey.
Coff. I Pompey am-
Boyet. You lye, you are not he.
Coft. I Pompey am
Boyet. With Libbard's head on knec. (49)

(49) with Libbard's head on knee.] This alludes to those 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 che French calld Une Masquine.

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Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be. friends with thee.

Coft. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the Big.
Dum. The Great.
Coft. It is Great, Sir; Pompey, Surnam'd the Great ;
That oft in field, with targe and field,

Did make my fue to sweat :
And travelling along this coaft, I here am come by

chance ;
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet Lass of

France.
If your ladyfhip would say, " thanks, Pompey, I had

done.
Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Coft. 'Tis not so 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 beft Worthy.

Enter Nathaniel 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 (mel

ling Knight.
Prin. The Conqueror is dismaid : proceed, good

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

Commander.
Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alifander.
Biron. Pompey the Great,
Coft. Your servant and Costard.

Biron. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alifander.

Coft. O Sir, you have overthrown Alisander the Conqueror. [to Nath.] You will be scraped out of the paint

ed

ed cloth-for this; your lion, that holds the poll-ax sito
ting on a close-stool (so), will be given to Ajax; he
will be then the ninth Worthy. A Conqueror, and a-
fraid to speak ? run away for shame, Alisander. There,
an't shall please you ; a foolish mild man; an honeft
man, look you, and soon dash'd. He is a marvellous
good neighbour, insooth, and a very good bowler;
but for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis a little o'er-
parted: but there are Worthies & coming will speak
their mind in some other fort.

Biron. Stand aside, good Pompey.
Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules.
Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp,

Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus ;
And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus :
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority; .
Ergo, I come with this apology.-
Keep some state in thy Exit, and vanish. [Exit Moth.

Hol. Judas I am.
Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, Sir;
Judas I am, ycleped Machabeus.

Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron. A kisling traitor. How art thou

prov'd Judas ?
Hol. Judas I am.
Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.

(50) Your Lion that holds the poll-ax fitting on a Clofestool,] 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 Acci. dence 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 such a Conqueror, as the Curate exhibited in his wretched Representation, ought to be given to a Jakes ; --- fit Verbo Reverentia! The same fort of Conundrum is used by B. Jonson at the Close of his Poem, callid, The famous Voyage.

And I could wish, for their eterniz'd fakes,
My bluse had plow'd with his that sung A-jax.

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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 hast 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, scarce seen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum. The cary'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. False; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron. And thou wert a lion, we would do so.

Boyet. Therefore as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adicu, 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. Judeas,

away Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas; it grows dark,

he
may

stumble. 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 respect of this.
Boyet. But is this HeEtor ?
King. I think, HcEtor was cot so clean timber'd.

Long.

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