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BOYET. Renowned Pompey!

BIRON. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

DUM. Hector trembles.

BIRON. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, more Ates; ftir them on! ftir them on!

DUM. Hector will challenge him.

BIRON. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will fup 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 flash; I'll do it by the fword:-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

DUM. Room for the incensed worthies.

COST. I'll do it in my fhirt.

DUM. Most refolute Pompey!

MOTH. Mafter, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not fee, Pompey is uncafing for the combat? What mean you? you will lofe your reputation.

ARM. Gentlemen, and foldiers, 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 reafon have you for't?

ARM. The naked truth of it is, I have no fhirt; I go woolward for penance.

Borer. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: fince when, I'll be fworn, he wore none, but a difh-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.

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PRIN. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'ft our merriment,

MER. I am forry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPRIN. Dead, for my life.

MER. Even fo; my tale is told.

BIRON. Worthies, away; the fcene begins to cloud.

ARM. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have feen the day of wrong through the little hole of difcretion, and I will right myself like a foldier.

KING. How fares your majefty?

[Exeunt Worthies

PRIN. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
KING. Madam, not fo; I do beseech you, stay.
PRIN. Prepare, I fay.-I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,

Out of a new-fad foul, that you vouchsafe
In your
rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide,
The liberal oppofition of our spirits :
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converfe of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue :
Excufe me fo, coming fo fhort of thanks
For my great fuit fo eafily obtain❜d.

KING. The extreme parts of time extremely form
All caufes to the purpofe of his fpeed;

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 fuit which fain it would convince;
Yet, fince love's argument was first on foot,

Let not the cloud of sorrow juftle it

From what it purpos'd; fince, to wail friends loft,
Is not by much fo wholesome, profitable,

As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

PŘÍN. I understand you not; my griefs are double. BIRON. Honeft plain words best pierce the ear of grief;And by these badges understand the king.

For your fair fakes have we neglected time,

Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the oppofed end of our intents:
And what in us hath feem'd ridiculous,
As love is full of unbefitting ftrains;
All wanton as a child, fkipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in fubjects as the eye doth roll
Το every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated prefence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once falfe for ever to be true

To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you :
And even that falfehood, in itself a fin,

Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

PRIN. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Your favours, the embaffadors of love; And, in our maiden council, rated them

At courtship, pleasant jeft, and courtesy,

As bombaft, and as lining to the time:

But more devout than this, in our refpects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.

DUM. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jeft
LONG. So did our looks.

Ros. We did not quote them fo.

KING. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.

PRIN. A time, methinks, too fhort

To make a world-without-end bargain in :
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltinefs; and, therefore, this,—
If for my love (as there is no fuch caufe)
You will do aught, this fhall you do for me:
Your oath I will not truft; but go with speed
To fome forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There ftay, until the twelve celestial figns
Have brought about their annual reckoning:
If this auftere infociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frofts, and fafts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of
your love,
But that it bear this trial, and laft love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kiffing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that inftant, shut
My woeful felf up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;

Neither intitled in the other's heart.

KING. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up thefe powers of mine with rest, The fudden hand of death close up mine eye!

Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.

BIRON. And what to me, my love? and what to me?

Ros. You must be purged too, your fins are rank;
You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,

A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But feek the weary beds of people fick.

DUM. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
KATH. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
DUM. O, fhall I fay, I thank you, gentle wife?
KATH. Not fo, my lord;—a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers fay:
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you fome.
DUM. I'll ferve thee true and faithfully till then.
KATH. Yet, fwear not, left you be forfworn again.
LONG. What says Maria?

MAR. At the twelvemonth's end,

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
LONG. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
MAR. The liker you; few taller are fo young.
BIRON. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble fuit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
Before I faw you: and the world's large tongue

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