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Here, good my glass, take this for telling true ;
Fair payment for fout words is more than due.

For. Nothing but fair is that, which you inherit.

Prin. See, fee; my beauty will be saved by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days ! »
A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise.
But come, the bow ; now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I lave my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't :
If wounding, then it was to thew my Skill;
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes ;
Glory grows guilty of detetted crimes ;
When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward party
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

Bojet. Do not curst wives hold that felf-sovereignty
Only for praise-fake, when they trive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise ; and praife we may afford
To any lady, that fubdues her lord.

Enter Coftard.

Boyet. Here comes a member of the common-wealth

Col. God dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Col. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickelt and the tallest.'

Coft. The thickeit and the tallest ? it is fo, truth is truth,
An' your walte, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o' thefe maids girdles for your waite hould be fit.
Are not you the chief woman you are the thickest here,

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will ?

Coß.

Con. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron, to one

lady Rosaline.
Prin. Othy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.
Stand afide, good bearer.--Boyet, you can carve; (+5)
Break up this capon.

Boyet. I am bound to serve.
This letter is mislook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear,
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet reads.

a

B

Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, trúer than truth itself; have commiferation on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and moft illustrate King Copbetua set eje upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelipbon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to, natomize in the vulgar, (o base and obscure vulgar!) v. dclicet, he came, law, and overcame; he came, one ; faw, ino; overcame, three. Who came the King. Why did he' come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he! to the beggar, What fiw he ? the begjár. Who overcame he! the beggar. The conclusion is viciory; on whose fide ? the King's ; the captive is inrich’d; on whose fide ? the beggar's,

U.

(15) Boyet you can carve:

Bilak up this Capon.] i. e. open this Letter. Our Poet uits this Metaphor, as the Frenco do their Poulet; whicla fignifies toth a young Fowl, and a Love-letters Poulet, amatoria buæ ; says Rickelet: and quotes from Voiture, Repondere au lus cbbigcave Poulet de Nionde; To reply to the most obiiging Lerer in the World. The lialians use the same manner of Expreßion, wben they call a Love-Epiftle, una Polliceita amori fa. I owed the Hint of this eqoivocal ute of the Word to my ingenious Friend Mr. Bishop.

The

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The catastrophe sis a nuptial : on whose fide ? the Kings ? no, on both in one, or one in both : I am the King, (for so stands the comparison) thou the beg. gar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command 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?

Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

me.

Tbine in the deareft design of industry,

Don Adriano de Armado,

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar

Gainst thee; thou lamb, that standest at his preys.
Submislive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play.
But if thou strive (poor soul) what art ihou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is be, that indited this letter? What vane ? what weathercock ?cid you ever hear better?

Boyet, I am much deceived, but I remember the itile. 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 ?

Coft. I told you; my lord,
Prin. To whom fhould'it thou give it?
Coff. From my lord to my lady,
Prin. From which lord. 10. 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 ; 'cwill be thine another day. .

[Exit Princess attended,

Boyet.

Bayer. Who is the shooter ? who is the shooter ?
Roj. Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Rós. Why, she that bears the bow. Finely put off.

Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns: but if chou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on.

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

Ref. If we chuse by horns, yoarself ; come not near.
Finely put on, indeed.
Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and the strikes

at the brow, Boyet. But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?

Rol. 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 anfwer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

(Singing.

Rof. Thou can'A noi hit it, bit it, hit it. Thou can not hit it, my good man.

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

[Exit Rof.

1

Coft. By my troth, most pleasant; how both did fit it.
Mar. A mark marvelloas well thot: for they both

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

fays my lady? Let the mark have a prick in't ; to meet af, if it may be.

Mark. Wide o'th' bow. hand; i'fajth, your hand is out.
Cont. Indeed, a’muit shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the

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

is in. Coff

. Then will he get the upshot by cleaving the pin.

ز

Mar.

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

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

her to bowl. Doyeti I fear too much rabbing; good night my good owl.'

(Exeunt all but Coltard. Coft. By my foul, a fwain; a moft fimple clown! Lord, Lord ! how the ladies and I have put him down ! O' my troth, moft sweet jefts, most in-cony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, fo obscenely; as it were,

so fit. Armado o' th' one fide, -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

fwear: 13 And his Page o' t'other fide, that handful of wit; Ah, heav'ns! it is a most pathetical Nit. mas

[Exit Coftard, [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) "Janguis, in blood; ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Cælo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'ns, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of Terra, the foil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are fweetly varied, like a scholar at the least'; but, Sir, I assure ye, ic was a buck of the first head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. ...Dull. ?Twas not a huud credo, 'twas å pricket.

Hol. Most barbarous intima!ion ; yet a kind of infineation, as it were in vin, in way of explication ; fucere, as it were, replication ; or rather, oftentare, to show, as it were bis inelina:ion ; afier his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather

unless

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