Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd. Long. His leg is too big for Hector. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the alGave Hector a gift, Dum. A gilt nutmeg. Biron. A lemon. Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. Peace. [mighty, The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea I am that flower, Dum. Long. That mint. That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector. Dum. 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 breath'd, 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. 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. Arm. What meanest thou? Cost. 'Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten tates? thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey! Boyet. Renowned Pompey! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is moved :-More Ates, more Ates; stir 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. 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! Moth. Master, let me take you a buttonhole 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. 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 dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart for a favour. Enter MERCADE. 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? For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, King. The extreme parts of time extremely All causes to the purpose of his speed; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the And by these badges understand the king. Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,- All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Your favours, the ambassadors of love; Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote them so. 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 cause) You will do aught, 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 insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood; If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds, Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what' to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Come when the king doth to my lady come, Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. Long. What says Maria? Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Biron, Studies my lady? mistress, look on me, |