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Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps | And raught not to five weeks, when he came to here in court;


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


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

I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?

From my lord to my lady.
Prin. From which lord, to which lady? [mine,
Cost. From my Lord Biron, a good master of
To a lady of France, that he called Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come,
lords, away.

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,— blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cœlo,-the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.+

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.


Th' allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

Hol. Heaven comfort thy capacity! I say, th' allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old : and I say, beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess kill'd, a pricket.

Nath. Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. Hol. I will something effect the letter; for it argues facility.

The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;

Some say a sore; but not a sore till now made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then Sorel jumps from thicket;

Or pricket, sore, or else Sorel; the people
fall a hooting.

If sore be sore, then I to sore makes fifty sores;
O sore L!

Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding
but one more L.

Nath. A rare talent!

Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws

Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were in via, in way, of explica-him with a talent. tion; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a deer. ['twas a pricket. Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo; Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!-O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal only sensible in the duller parts; And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.

For as it would ill become me to be vain, indis-
creet, or a fool,

So, were there a patch‡ set on learning, to see
him in a school:
But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's
Many can brook the weather, that love not the

Dull. You two are book men. Can you tell
by your wit,

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good man Dull.

Dull. What is Dictynna?

Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. Hol. The moon was a month old when Adam was no more;

A species of apple.

+ To reader some of the allusions in this scene intelligible to persons who are not acquainted with the language of park-keepers and foresters, it may be necessary to mention, that a fawn, when it is a year old, is called by them a pricket;

Nath. Sir, I praise Heaven for you, and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.

Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them: But, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth us.


Jaq. God give you good morrow, Master
An if

Hol. Master Person,-quasi pers-on.
one should be pierc'd, which is the one?
Cost. Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is
likest to a hogshead.

Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint : 'tis pretty; it is well.

Jaq. Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho; I beseech you, read it. Hol. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra.

Ruminat-And so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan!
I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
Vinegia, Vinegia,

Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia.
Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth

when it is two years old, it is a sorel; when it is three years old, it is a sore; when it is four years, it is a buck of the first head; at five years, it is an old buck.

A low fellow. ? Reached.

thee not, loves thee not.- Ut, re, sol, la, mi, faOr

Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? rather, as Horace says in his-What, my soul, verses?

Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse;
Lege, domine.

Nath. [Reads.] If love make me forsworn, how
shall I swear to love?
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful
[osiers bow'd.
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine
Where all those pleasures live that art would
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall
[thee commend:
Well learned is that tongue that well can
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without
[parts admire ;)
(Which is to me some praise, that I thy
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his
dreadful thunder,
[sweet fire.
Which, not to anger bent, is music, and
Celestial as thou art, oh pardon, love, this

cludes it. Sir, [to DULL] I do invite you too;
you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away;
the gentles are at their game, and we will to our

Hol. And, certes,+ the text most infallibly con

SCENE III.-Another part of the Park.
Enter BIRON, with a paper.

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself. Well, Set thee down, sorrow! for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! This love is as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well proved again o' my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her eye,-by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy: and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin,

If the other three were in! [tongue! Here comes one with a paper. [Gets up into a tree. Enter the KING, with a paper.

That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto :

Your ladyship's in all desired employment,


Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries
with the king; and here he hath framed a letter
to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, acci-
dentally, or by the way of progression, hath mis-
carried.-Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this
paper into the royal hand of the king; it may
concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I for-
give thy duty. Adieu!

Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.
Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

[Exeunt CoST. and JAQ. Nath. Sir, you have done this very religiously; and, as a certain father saith

Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.

Nath. And thank you too: for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life.

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King. Ah, me!

Biron. [Aside.] Shot, by heaven!-Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:

King. [Reads.]-So sweet a kiss the golden
sun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have
The night of dew that on my cheeks down
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light:
Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep;
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee,
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe:
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will


But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal

How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the

Sweet leaves, shade folly! Who is he comes here? [Steps aside.

Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.

What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool [Aside.


Long. Ah me! I am forsworn.

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Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to


O sweet Maria, empress of my love!
These numbers will I tear and write in prose.
Biron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wan-
ton Cupid's hose;
Disfigure not his slop.

Long. This same shall go.

[He reads the sonnet. Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye ('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument)

Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore; but, I will prove,

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace

in me.

Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth shine,

Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then, it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath to win a paradise?

Enter DUMAIN, with a paper. Long. By whom shall I send this?-Company! stay. [Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All-hid, all-hid, an old infant play:

Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,

And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have ray wish;

Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum. O most divine Kate!

Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [Aside.
As fair as day.

Biron. Ay, as some days; but then
must shine.

Dum. O that I had my wish!


And I had mine!

no sun [Aside.

[Aside. King. And I mine too, good lord! [Aside. Biron. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? [Aside.

Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Biron. A fever in your blood! why, then incision Would let her out in saucers: Sweet misprision! Aside. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.

Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. [Aside.

Dum. On a day, (alack the day!)

Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee:

Thou for whom even Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

This will I send; and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
O, would the King, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Long. Dumain, [advancing] thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

King. Come, sir, [advancing] you blush; as his your case is such;

You chide at him, offending twice as much :
You do not love Maria; Longaville

Did never sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion;
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion.
Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise break faith and troth;


And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
Faith, infringed which such a zeal did swear?
How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that ever I did see,

I would not have him know so much by me.
Biron. Now, step I forth to whip hypocrisy.-
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:

[Descends from the tree..
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears
There is no certain princess that appears:
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?
O, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen! *.
O me, with what strict patience have I sa't,
To see a king tranformed to a gnat!
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic+ Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Du main?"
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the bre ast:-
A caudle, ho!
Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view"?
Biron. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you
I, that am honest; I that hold it sin'
To break the vow I am engaged in;

I am betray'd by keeping company
With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy..
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?-
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning + me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?--

Soft; whither away so fast?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go.


Jaq. God bless the king!

• Grief. + Cynic.

+ In trimming myself.

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King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it? [not fear it. Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.


Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.[To COST. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess;

He, he, and you, my liege, and I,

Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.
True, true; we are four :-
With these turtles begone?
Hence, sirs; away.
Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the
traitors stay.
[Exeunt CoST. and JAQ.
King. What, did these rent lines show some
love of thine ?

Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,

That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

Át the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty? [now? King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron; O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity; Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek.

Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues;

Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not; To things of sale a seller's praise belongs; [blot. She passes praise: then praise too short doth A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,

Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. O, 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine! King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine A wife of such wood were felicity. O, who can give an oath? where is a book? That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack, If that she learn not of her eye to look ;

No face is fair, that is not full so black. O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,

It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, Should ravish doters with a false aspect;

And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days,

For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Paints itself black to imitate her brow. King. But what of this? Are we not all in love? [forsworn. Biron. O, nothing so sure; and thereby all King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove

Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there;-some flattery for this evil.



Long. O, some authority how to proceed; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the Dum. Some salve for perjury. [devil. O, 'tis more than need! Have at you then, affection's men at arms: Consider, what you first did swear unto;To fast,-to study, and to see no woman;Flat treason against the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young, And abstinence engenders maladies. And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, In that each of you hath forsworn his book: Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study's excellence, Without the beauty of a woman's face? From women's eyes this doctrine I derive : They are the ground, the books, the academes, From whence doth spring the true Promethean Why, universal plodding prisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries; As motion, and long-during action, tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller. Now, for not looking on a woman's face, You have in that forsworn the use of eyes; And study too, the causer of your vow: For where is any author in the world, Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are, our learning likewise is. Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, Do we not likewise see our learning there? O, we have made a vow to study, lords; And in that vow we have forsworn our books; For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation, have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; And therefore, finding barren practisers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power; And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye: A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd: Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, Than are the tender horns of cockled snails : Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in For valour, is not Love a Hercules, [taste: Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as sphynx; as sweet, and musical, As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write,


Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain and nourish all the world;
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent :
Then fools you were these women to forswear;
Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love;
Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men;
Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves,
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths:
It is religion to be thus forsworn,
For charity itself fulfils the law;
And who can sever love from charity?

King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the


Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;

Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis'd, In conflict that you get the sun of them.

[by: Long. Now to plain-dealing; lay these gloses Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? King. And win them too: therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents.

Biron. First from the park let us conduct them thither;

Then, homeward, every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
King. Away, away! no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.


Act Fifth. SCENE I.-A Street. Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Hol. Satis quod sufficit.

Nath. Sir, your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, + audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.

Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.

Nath. A most singular and choice epithet. [Takes out his table-book. Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasms, such insociable and point-devise || companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak, dout, fine, when he should say, doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt-d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour, vocatur, nebour; neigh abbreviated, ne. This is abhominable (which he would call abominable): it in

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sinuateth me of insanie; Ne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.

Nath. Laus Deo! bone intelligo.

Hol. Bone?-bone for bene: Priscian a little scratch'd; 'twill serve.


Nath. Videsne quis venit?

Hol. Video, et gaudeo.

Arm. Chirra!


Hol. Quare Chirra, not sirrah?
Arm. Men of peace, well encountered.
Hol. Most military sir, salutation.

Moth. They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. [To COST. aside.

Cost. O, they have liv'd long in the almsbasket of words! I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honcrificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.¶ Moth. Peace! the peal begins.

Arm. Monsieur, [to HoL.] are you not letter'd? Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook;- What is a, b, spelt backward, with a

horn on his head?

Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

Moth. Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn.-You hear his learning.

Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant! Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I.

Hol. I will repeat them, a, e, i—

[o, u. Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it; Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterranean, a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit: snip, snap, quick, and home; it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit.

Moth. Offer'd by a child to an old man.

Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou half-penny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion."

Arm. Arts-man preambula; we will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?

Hol. Or, mons the hill.

Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. Hol. I do, sans question.

Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman; and my familiar, I do assure you, very good friend :-For what is inward between us, let it pass :-I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy:-I beseech thee, apparel thy head:-And among other importunate and most serious designs,-and of great import indeed, too;-but let that pass :for I must tell thee, it will please his grace (by the world) sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder; but sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world: but let that pass.-The very all of all is, but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy,-that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or fire-work. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.

¶ A small inflammable substance, swallowed in a glass of wine.


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