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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.
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 enjoined 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 he wears next his heart for a favor.
Enter a Messenger, MONSIEUR MERCADE.
Prin. Welcome, Mercade ;
Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
The king your father-
1 i. e. more instigation. Ate was the goddess of discord.
2 That is, clothed in wool, and not in linen; a penance often enjoined in times of superstition.
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 endeavors, 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 so short of thanks For my great suit so easily obtained.
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 ;3 Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it From what it purposed; 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. Biron. Honest, plain words best pierce the ear of
grief; And by these badges understand the king.
1 Armado probably means to say, in his affected style, that “ he had discovered he was wronged.” “One may see day at a little hole,” is a proverb.
2 Loose may mean at the moment of his parting; i. e. of his getting loose or away from us.
3 i. e. which it fain would succeed in obtaining.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
We to ourselves prove false,
Prin. We have received your letters, full of love;
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
1 Thus in Decker's Satiromastix: “ You shall swear not to bombast out a new play with the old linings of jests.” 2 Regard. VOL. II.
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
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 ; Therefore, if you my favor mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Kath. A wife !-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With threefold 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
Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
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.
Biron. Studies my lady? Mistress, look on me;
Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
death? It cannot be ; it is impossible. Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow, laughing hearers give to fools. A jest's prosperity lies in the ear of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it. Then, if sickly ears,