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be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.]— There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest 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'erparted :—But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES arm'd, for Judas, and MоTH arm'd, 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.

Hol. Judas I am,—

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycleped Machabæus.

[Exit MOTH.

Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas.

Biron. A kissing traitor :-How art thou prov'd Judas?

Hol. Judas I am,—

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.

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 carv'd-bone face on a flask.'

[9] That is, the part or character allotted to him in this piece is too considerable.

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MALONE.

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 countenance.
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. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, 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 :-Jud-as,

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 Machabæus, how hath he been baited!

Enter ARMADO arm'd, for Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Though 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 Hector?

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.

Biron. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty3 Gave Hector a gift,—

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.⭑

[2] A Trojan, I believe, was in the time of Shakespeare, a cant term for a thief. So, in King Henry IV. P. I. "Tut, there are other Trojans, that thou dream'st not of." &c. STEEVENS. [3] i. e. of lance-men. STEEVENS.

[4] An orange stuck with cloves appears to have been a common new-year's gift. A gilt nutmeg is mentioned by Ben Jonson as a present on the same occasion. The use, however, of an orange, &c. may be ascertained from The Second Booke of Notable Thinges, by Thomas Lupton, 4to. bl. 1" Wyne wyll be pleasant in taste and savour if an orenge or a Lymon (stickt round about with Cloaves) be hanged within the vessell that it touche not the wyne. And so the wyne wyll be preserved em foystines and evyll savour " STEEVENS.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace!

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 delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

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 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 mov'd:-More Atès, more Atès ;5 stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

[5] That is, more instigation. Atè was the mischievous goddess that incited bloodshed. JOHNSON.

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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, 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.

Biron. What reason have you for't?

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

[6] The weapons and armour which he wore in the character of Pompey. JOHNSON.

[7] This may possibly allude to a story well known in our author's time, to this effect: A Spaniard at Rome falling in a duel, as he lay expiring, an intimate friend, by chance, came by, and offered him his best services. The dying man told him he had but one request to make him, but conjured him, by the memory of their past friendship, punctually to comply with it, which was, not to suffer him to be stript, but to bury him as he lay, in the habit he then had on. When this was promised, the Spaniard closed his eyes, and expired with great composure and resignation. But his friend's curiosity prevailing over his good faith, he had him stript, and found, to his great surprise, that he was without a shirt. WARBURTON.

To go woolward, I believe was a phrase appropriated to pilgrims and penitentiaries. Skinner derives woolward from the Saxon wol, plague, secondarily any great distress, and weard, toward. Thus, says he, it signifies," in magno discrimine & ex pectatione magni mali constitutus." I rather think it should be written woulward, and that it means clothed in wool, and not in linen. T. WARTON.

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.

King. How fares your majesty?

[Exeunt Worthies.

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 endeavours; 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 an humble tongue :
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

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;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

From what it purpos'd; 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.

For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,

Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours

Even to th' opposed end of our intents:

And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,

[8] Liberal-Free to excess

STEEVENS.

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