That Cupid will impofe for my neglect

Of his almighty, dreadful, little, might.

Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue, and groan; Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

[Exit.

ACT IV. SCENE I..

A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace:

Enter the

Princefs, ROSALINE, MARIA, CATHARINE, Lords, Attendants, and a Forefter..

Princess.

WAS that the king, that spurr'd his horfe fo hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he fhew'd a mounting mind...
-Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

-Then, forefter, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must ftand and play the murderer in ? ·
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice :
A ftand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty; I am fair that shoot;
And thereupon thou fpeak'ft, the faireft shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what? firft praife me, then again fay, no??
O fhort-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack, for woe!

For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;

[Giving him money.

Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, fee, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefy in fair fit for thefe 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 fave my credit in the shoot;
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't:

If wounding, then it was to fhew my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;

When, for fame's fake, for praife, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart :[3]
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that felf-fovereignty
Only for praife-fake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

:

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

Enter COSTARD.

Prin. Here comes a member of the common-wealth. Coft. Good dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

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

Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?

Prin. The thickeft, and the tallest.

Coft. The thickest and the tallest! it is fo; truth-is truth. An' your waist, mistress, were as flender as my wit, One o' these maid's girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickeft here. Prin. What's your will, fir ? what's your will?

Coft. I have a letter from monfieur Biron, to one lady Rofaline.

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine. Stand afide, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon.[4]

Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear:

Break the neck of the wax,[5] and every one give ear.

[3] The harmony of the measure, the eafinefs of the expreffion, and the good fenfe in the thought, all concur to recommend these two lines to the reader's notice. WARB.

[4] i. e. open this letter. Our poet ufes this metaphor, as the French do their 'poulet'; which fignifies both a young fowl and a love-letter. The Italians ufe the fame manner of expreffion, when they call a love-epistle, 'una pollicetta amorofa.' THEO.

Boyet. [reads.] By 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, truer than truth itself, have commiferation on thy heroical vaffal! The magnanimous and most illuftrate king Cophetua[6] fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and be it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomife in the vulgar, (O bafe and obscure vulgar !) videlicet, he came, faw, and overcame: He came, one ; faw, two ; overcame, three. Who came? the king. Why did he come to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came be? to the beggar. What far be? the beggar. Whom overcame he? the beggar. The conclufion is victory; on whofe fide? the king's: The captive in enrich'd; on whofe fide? the beggar's: The catastrophe is a nuptial; on whofe fide? the king's? no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; (for fo ftands the comparifon): thou the beggar; for fo avitneffeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What halt thou exchange for rags ? robes: For tittles? titles: For thy felf? me. Thus, expecing thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

Thine, in the dearest defign of industry,

DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainft thee, thou lamb, that standeft as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play:

But if thou ftrive, poor foul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repafture for his den.[7]

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this

letter?

What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear better?

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

[6] This ftory is again alluded to in Hen. IV: "Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof." But of this king and beggar, the ftory, then doubtless well known, is, I am afraid, loft. JOHNS.

[7] Thefe fix lines appear to be a quotation from fome ridiculous poem of that time. WARB.

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in

court;

A phantafme, a Monarcho; and one that makes sport To the prince and his book-mates.

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

Coft. I told you, my lord.

Prin. To whom shouldft thou give it ?
Coft. From my lord to my lady.

Prin. From which lord, to which lady?

Coft. From my lord Biron, a good mafter of mine, To a lady of France, that he call'd Rofaline.

Prin. Thou haft mistaken this letter.-Come, lords,

away.

Here, fweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day.
[Exit Princefs attended,
Boyet. Who is the fhooter? who is the shooter ?
Rof. Shall I teach you to know?

Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.

Rof. Why, the 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 !

Rof. Well then, I am the shooter.

Boyet. And who is your deer?

Rof. If we choose by horns, yourself; come not near. Finely put on, indeed!

Mar. You ftill wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But the herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now? Rof. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may anfwer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever[8] of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

Rof. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,

Thou canst not hit it, my good man.

Boyet. An' I cannot, cannot, cannot ;

[Singing.

An' I cannot, another can. [Exe. Ros. & CATH.

Coft. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it!

[8] This was king Arthur's queen, not over famous for fidelity to her hufband. STEEV.

VOL. II.

Ee

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; 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 mete at, if it may be. Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith your hand is out. Co. 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.

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin. Mar. Come, come, you talk greafily, your lips grow foul.

Coft. She's too hard for you at pricks, fir; challenge her to bowl.

owl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing: Good night, my good [Exeunt all but COSTARD. Coft. By my foul, a fwain! a moft fimple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, moft sweet jefts! moft incony vulgar wit! When it comes fo fmoothly off, fo obfcenely, as it were, fo fit.

Armado o' the one fide,-O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' will
fwear !

And his page o' t'other fide, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit !

Sola, fola!

[Exit COSTARD. [Shouting within.

SCENE II.

Enter DULL, HOLOFERNES, and Sir NATHANIEL.

Nath. Very reverend sport, truly and done in the teftimony of a good confcience.

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

Nath. Truly, mafter Holofernes, the epithets are