Here, good my glass, take this for telling true ;
Fair payment for fout words is more than due.

For. Nothing but fair is that, which you inherit.

Prin. See, fee; my beauty will be saved by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days ! »
A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise.
But come, the bow ; now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I lave my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't :
If wounding, then it was to thew my Skill;
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes ;
Glory grows guilty of detetted crimes ;
When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward party
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

Bojet. Do not curst wives hold that felf-sovereignty
Only for praise-fake, when they trive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise ; and praife we may afford
To any lady, that fubdues her lord.

Enter Coftard.

Boyet. Here comes a member of the common-wealth

Col. God dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Col. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickelt and the tallest.'

Coft. The thickeit and the tallest ? it is fo, truth is truth,
An' your walte, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o' thefe maids girdles for your waite hould be fit.
Are not you the chief woman you are the thickest here,

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will ?

Coß.

Cof. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron, to one

lady Rosaline, i
Prin. Ochy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.
Stand afide, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve; (05)
Break up this capon.

Boyet. I am bound to serve. :
This letter is millook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet reads.

B

a.

Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;

true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, trúer than truth itself; have commiferation on thy heroical vasfal. The magnaninious and moft illuftrate King Copbetua set eje upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelephon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to natomize in the vulgar, (O base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, faw, and overcame; he'came, one ; faw, tuo; overcame, three. Who came the King. Why did he come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar,

What f-w he ? the beggar. Who overcame he! the beggar. The conclufion is viciory; on whose side ? the King's ; the captive is inrich'd; on whose fide ? the beggar's,

(15) Boyet g'au can carve:

Break up this Capon.) i. e. open this Letter. Our Poet uies ihis Metaphor, as the lo enco do their Poulet; which Signifies toth a young Fowl,' and a Love-letter. Poulet, amatoria bituræ; says Rickelet: and quotes from Vuiture, Repondere au lus ebligeavil Poulet di Blonde; To reply to the most obliging Lerer in the World. The lialiani's use the lame manner of Expression, wben they call a Lore-Epiftle, una Pollicelia amorija. I owed the Hint of this equivocal ute of the Word to my ingenious Friend Mr. Bifhop.

The

The catastrophe is a nuptial : on whose fide the Kings i no, on both in one, or one in both : I am the King, (for so stands the comparison) thou the beg. gar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. · Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy, love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags robes; for tittles ? titles: for thy felf?

Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

me.

Tbine in the dearest design of industry,

Don Adriano de Armado.

Prim.

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean 1

lion soar
'Gainst thee; thou lamb; that standest at his preys.
Submiffive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play.
But if thou strive (poor soul) what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

What plume of feathers iste, chatindited this letter? What vane? what weathercock ? cid you ever hear better?

Boyet, I am much deceived, but I remember the itile. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it ere while,

Boyet. This armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in Court, A phantasme, a monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou, fellow, å word:
Who gave thee this letter ?

Cofi. I told you; my lord,
Prin. To whom fhould'it thou give it?
Coft. From my lord to my lady,
Prin. From which lord. to which lady?

Coft. From my lord Berown, a good master of mine, To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.

Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day..

(Exit Princess attended,

Boyet.

Bayet. Who is the shooter ? who is the shooter !
Roj. Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Rós. Why, she that bears the bow. Finely put off.

Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns.: but if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry, Finely put on.

Ref: Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet. And who is your Deer?

Rof. If we chuse by horns, yourself; come not near.
Finely put on, indeed.
Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and the strikes

at the brow, Boyet. But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?

Rol. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

Rof. Thou can'f riot hit it, bit it, hit it. (Singing Thou can not bit it, my good man.

Boyet. An' I cannot, cannot, cannot ; An' I cannot, another can.

[Exit Rof. Coft. By my troth, most pleasant; how both did fit it. Mar. A mark marvellous well thot: for they both

did hit it. Boyet. A mark? O, mark but that mark! a mark,

says my lady? Let the mark have a prick in't ; to meet af, if it

may

be. Mark. Wide o’th' bow. hand ; i'fajth, your hand is out. Cop. Indeed, a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the

clout. Boyet. An' if my hand be out, then, belike, your hand

is in. Coff. Then will the get the upfhot by cleaving the pin.

Mer.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greafily; your lips grow

foul. Coft. She's too hard for you at pricks, Şir, challenge

her to bowl. Doyeti I fear too much rubbing; good night my good owl.' i . !

[Exeunt ali but Cottard. Coft. By my foul, a swain; a moft fimple clown! Lord, Lord ! how the ladies and I have put him down ! O’my troth, most sweet jeits, most in-cony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, fo obscenely; as it were,

fo fit. Armado o'th' one side, 0, a most dainty man; To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan. To see him kifs his hand, and how most sweetly he will

fwear : 1 And his Page o' t'other side, that handful of wit; Ah, heav'ns! it is a most pathetical Nit.

[Exit Coftard,

[Shouting within, Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathaniel.

Nath. Very reverend fport, truly; and done in the teftimony of a good Conscience.

Hol. The deer was (as you know) Janguis, in blood ; ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Cælo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n}, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of Terra, the foil, the land, the earth.

N. Truly, nafter Holofernes, the epithets are fweetly varied, like a scholar at the leaft; but, Sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull

. 'Twas not a huud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimalion ; yet a kind of infinuation, as it were in vin, in way of explication ; fue cere, as it were, replication ; or rather, oftentare, to show, as it were bis inelina:ion; afier his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather

unlet