Biron. And three times three is nine?

Coft, Not fo, Sir, under correction, Sir; I hope, it is not fo.

You cannot beg us, Sir; I can affure you, Sir, we know what we know I hope, three times thrice, Sir

:

Biron. Is not nine.

Coft. Under correction, Sir, we know where until it dt h amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Coft. O lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, Sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Coft. O lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will fhew whereuntil it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as they fay, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, Sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?

Coft. It pleafed them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy; but I am to ftand for him.

Biron. Go bid them prepare.

Coft. We will turn it finely off, Sir, we will take fome

care.

King. Biron, they will fhame us; let them not approach. [Exit Coft. Biron. We are fhame-proof, my lord; and 'tis fome policy

To have one Show worse than the King's and his Com

pany.

King. I fay, they shall not come.

you now;

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule
That fport best pleases, that doth leaft know how.
Where zeal ftrives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents;

Their form, confounded, makes most form in mirth;
When great things, labouring, perish in their birth.
Biron. A right defcription of our sport, my lord.

Enter

Enter Armado.

Arm. Anointed, I implore fo much expence of thy royal fweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. Prin. Doth this man ferve God?

Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He fpeaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, fweet, honey monarch; for, I proteft, the schoolmafter is exceeding fantastical too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they fay, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, moft royal coupplement.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies: he presents Hector of Troy; the fwain, Pompey the Great; the parifh-curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabeus.

And if these four Worthies in their first Show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five: Biron. There are five in the firft Show.

King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not fo.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy.

A bare throw at Novum, and the whole world again Cannot prick out five fuch, take each one in's vein. King. The fhip is under fail, and here fhe comes amain...

Enter Coftard for Pompey,

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. You lye, you are not he.........

Coft. I Pompey am

Boyet. With Libbard's head on knee.

Biron. Well faid, old. mocker: : I must needs be friends with thee.

Coft. I Pompey am, Pompey furnam'd the Big.
Dum. The Great.

Coft. It is Great, Sir; Pompey, furnam'd the Great ; That oft in field, with targe and field,

Did make my foe to fweat:

And travelling along this coaft, I here am come by chance;

And lay my arms before the legs of this fweet Lafs of France.

If your lady ship would fay, "thanks,-Pompey, I had

done.

Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Coft. 'Tis not fo much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect. I made a little fault in great.

Biron. My hat to a half-penny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter Nathaniel for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's Commander;

By eaft, weft, north and fouth, I fpread my conquering might:

"My 'Scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alifander.

Boyet. Your nofe fays, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nofe smells, no, in this, most tender smelling Knight.

Prin. The Conqueror is difmaid: proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's Commander.

Boyet. Moft true, 'tis right; you were fo, Alifander. Biron. Pompey the Great,

Coft. Your fervant, and Coflard.

Biron. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alifander.

Coft. O Sir, you have overthrown Alifander the Conqueror. [to Nath.] You will be fcraped out of the painted cloth for this; your lion, that holds the poll-ax fitting on a clofe-ftool, will be given to Ajax; he will be then the ninth Worthy. A Conqueror, and afraid to fpeak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't fhall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and foon dafh'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, infooth, and a very good bowler; but for Alifander,

Alifander, alas, you fee, how 'tis a little o'er-parted: but there are Worthies a coming will speak their mind

in fome other fort.

Biron. Stand afide, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is prefented 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 ftrangle ferpents in his manus:

Quoniam, he feemeth in minority;

Ergo, I come with this apology.

Keep fome ftate in thy Exit, and vanish. [Exit Moth. Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Ifcariot, Sir;

Judas I am, ycleped Machabeus.

Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.

Biron. A kiffing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas?

Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. The more fhame 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 haft 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, fcarce feen. Boyet. The pummel of Cafar's faulchion.

Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.

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 counte

nance.

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.
An fo adieu, fweet Jude; nay, why doft thou stay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the Afs to the Jude; give it him. Jud-as, away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monfieur Judas; it grows dark, he may ftumble.

Prin. Alas! poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited! Enter Armado.

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

Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in refpect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?

King. I think, Hector was not fo clean-timber'd.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is beft indu'd in the small.

Biron. This can't be Hector.

Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift,

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

A man fo breath'd, that certain he would fight ye
From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.

I

am that Flower.

Dum. That mint.

Long. That cullambine.

Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Long.