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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 breathed, that certain he would fight ye
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower.
Dum. That mint.
Long. That columbine.
Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against He&tor.
Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.
Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten;
Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the bury'd:
But I will forward with my device;
Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's flipper.
Boyet. Loves he by the foot?
Dum. He may not by the yard.
Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.
Coft. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.
Arm. What mean'st thou?
Cost. 'Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor
wench is cast away; she's quick; the child brags in her belly already:
Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.
Coft. Then shall Hector be whipp'd for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hang’d for Pompey, that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey !
Boyet. Renown'd Pompey !
Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is mov’d, more Atès, more Atès; stir them on, ftir them on!
Dum. Hetor will challenge him.
Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than
will sup 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 Nash;
I'll do't by the sword: I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Coft. I'll do't in my shirt.
Dum. Most resolute Pompey!
Moth. Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you
not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? what mean you ? you
will lose your reputation.
Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me, I will not combat
Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.
Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward
Boyet. True ; and it was enjoin’d him in Rome for want of
linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dishclout
of Jaquenetta's; and that he wears next his heart for a favour.
Mac. God save you, madam!
Prin. Welcome, Macard, but that thou interruptest our
Mac. I'm sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father –
Prin. Dead, for
Mac. Even so: my tale is told.
Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath; I have seen the day of right through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
King. How fares your majesty ?
Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that
rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our fpirits;
If over-boldly we have born ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewel, worthy lord !
An heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain’d.
King. The extreme part of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
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 suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of forrow justle it
From what it purpos’d: since to wail friends loft
Is not by much fo wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double.
Biron. Honest 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 th' opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,
As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain,
Form’d by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the
To every varied object in his glance;
Which party-coated presence of loose love,
Put on by us, if, in your heav'nly eyes,
Have misbecom’d our oaths and gravities,
Those heav'nly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make them: therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the errour that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false, for ever to be true
To those that make us both, fair ladies, you;
And even that falshood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
Your favours, the embassadors of love :
And in our maiden council rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this in our respects
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 jest.
Long. So did our looks.
Ros. We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
Prin. A time, methinks, too short,
To make a world-without-end bargain in;
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore, this :
love (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this fhall you do for me;
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay 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 frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love ;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge by these deserts;
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woful self 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 entitled in the other's heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To fetter up these powers of mine with reft,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye !
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Dum. But what to me, my love ? but what to me?
Cath. No wife: a beard, fair health, and honesty;
With threefold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Cath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that fmooth-fac'd wooers say.
Come when the king doth to my lady come;
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Cath. Yet swear not, left you be forsworn again,
Long. What says Maria ?