The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea, From morn till night, out of his pavilion. I am that flower, Dum. That mint. Long. 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 de lighted. 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 potentates? thou shalt dié. 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! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is mov'd: Ates; stir them on! stir them on! More Ates, more 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 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, will not combat in my shirt. pardon me; I Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge. 1 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. bring, for the news I Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father Prin. 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. 3 - For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, If over boldly we have borne ourselves King. The extreme parts of time extremely form 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; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. double. are Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the King. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Our love being yours: the error that love makes To those that make us both, fair Ladies, you: Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Your Your favours, the embassadors 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, . To make a world without eud bargain in:. Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Conte challenge, challenge me by these deserts, For the remembrance of my father's death. VOL. IV. 7 |