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of fouls, and you a curer of bodies: if you thould fight, you go against the hair of your profeffions: Is it not true, mafter Page?

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Page Mafters Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, tho' now a man of peace.

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5. Shal. Body-kins, Mr. Page, tho I now be old, and peace, if I fee a fword out, my finger itches to make one; tho' we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Mr. Page, we have fome falt of our youth in us; we are the fons of women, Mr. Page!

Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow.

Shal. It will be found fo, Mr. Page. Mr. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home; I am fworn of the peace; you have fhew'd yourself a wife phyfician, and Sir Hugh hath fhown himself a wife and patient church-man: you must go with me, Mr. Doctor. Hoft. Pardon, gueft-juftice; a word, Monfieur mock-water.

Caius. Mock-vater? vat is dat?

Hoft. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.

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Caius. By gar, then I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman, fcurvy-jack-dog-prieft; by gar, me vill cut his ears.

Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat?

Hoft. That is, he will make thee amends.

Caius. By gar, me do look, he fhall clapper-de-claw me; for by gar, me vill have it.

Hoft. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Caius. Me tank you for dat.

Hoft. And moreover, bully: but firft, Mr. Gueft, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?

Hoft. He is there; fee, what humour he is in; and I will bring the Doctor about the fields: will it do well?

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Shal. We will do it. de

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All. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor.

[Exeunt Page, Shallow and Slender. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de prieft; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.

Hoft. Let him die; but, firft, fheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feafting; and thou fhalt woo her, Cry aim, faid I well?

5. I will bring thee where Anne Pagé is, at a farm-bause a feafting; and thou shalt woo her, CRY'D GAME; faid I well?] Mr. Theobald alters this nonfenfe to try'd game; that is, to nonfenfe of a worfe complexion. Shakespear wrote and pointed thus, CRY AIM, Jaid I well? i. e. confent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good propofal? for to cry aim fignifies to confent to, or approve of any thing. So again in this play, p. 300, And to thefe violent proceedings all my neighbours ball CRY AIM, 7. e. approve them. And again in King John, Act 2. Scene 2, It ill becomes this prefence to CRY AIM To thefe ill-tuned repetitions,

e. to approve of, or encourage them, The phrafe was taken, originally, from archery. When any one had challenged another to thoot at the butts (the perpetual diverfion, as well as exercife, of that time) the ftanders-by ufed to fay one to the other, Cry aim, i. e. accept the challenge. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Fair maid of the inn, Act 5, make the Duke fay,

muft I cry AIME

To this unheard of infolence

ie. encourage it, and agree to the request of the duel, which one of his fubjects had infolently demanded against the other. But here it is remarkable, that the fenfelefs editors not knowing what to make of the phrafe Cry aim, read it thus,

muft cry AI-ME: As if it was a note of interjection. So again Maffinger in his Guardian, I will CRY AIM, and in another room Determine of my vengeance

And again, in his Renegado,

to play the Pandor

To the Viceroy's loofe embraces, and CRY AIM,
While he by force or flattery

But the Oxford Editor transforms it to Cock o' th' Game; and his improvements of Shakespear's language abound with thefe modern elegancies of speech, fuch as Mynbeers, Bull baitings, &c.

Caius. By gar," me tank you vor dat: by gar, I love you; and I fhall procure a you de good gueft; de Earl, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients.

Hoft. For the which I will be thy adverfary toward Anne Page: faid I well?

Caius. By gar, 'tis good; vell faid.

Hoft. Let us wag then.

Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby:

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[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

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Frogmore, near Windfor.

Enter Evans and Simple.

EVANS.

and friend Simple by your name, which way have you look'd for mafter Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Phyfick?

Simp. Marry, Sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, every way, old Windfor way, and every way but the

town way.

Eva. I most fehemently defire you, you will also look that way.

Simp. I will, Sir.

Eva. 'Plefs my foul, how full of chollars I am, and trempling of mind! I fhall be glad, if he have deceiv'd me; how melanchollies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's coftard, when I have good opportunities for the orke: 'Plefs my foul!

[Sings, being afraid.

By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls
Melodious birds fing madrigalls
There will we make our peds of rofes
And a thoufand vragrant pofies.

By Shallow Mercy on me! I have a great difpofi tions to cry. Melodious birds fing madrigalls When as I fat in Pabilon; and a thousand vragrant pofies. -By fhallow, &c.

-

Simp.

1 By fhallow rivers, &c.] This is part of a beautiful little poem of the author's, which poem, and the answer to it, the reader will not be difpleafed to find here.

1...

The Paffionate Shepherd to his Love.

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Live with me, and be my Love,
And we will all the Pleasure prove,
That Hills and Vallies, Dale and Field,
And all the craggy Mountains yield.
There will we fit upon the Rocks,
And fee the Shepherds feed their Flocks,
By fhallow Rivers, by whofe Falls
Melodious Birds fing Madrigales.
There will I make thee Beds of Rofes,
With a thousand fragrant Pofies;
A Cap of Flowers, and a Girdle
Imbroider'd all with leaves of Myrtle; c
A Gown made of the finest Wool,
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined Slippers for the cold,

C. With Buckles of the pureft Gold;
A Belt of Straw, and Ivie Buds,

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With Coral Clafps, and Amber Studs, on ave
And if thefe Pleasures may thee move, alo
Then live with me, and be my Loves wov
The Shepherds Swains fhall dance and fing,
For thy Delight each May Morning.
If these Delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my Love.

The

Simp. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh. Eva. He's welcome. By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls

Heav'n profper the right! what weapons is he?

Simp. No weapons, Sir; there comes my mafter. Mr. Shallow, and another gentleman from Frogmore, over the ftile, this way.

Eva. Pray you, give me my gown, or else keep it in your arms.

The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd.

If that the World and Love were young,
And Truth in every Shepherd's Tongue;
These pretty Pleafures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy Love.
Time drives the Flocks from Field to Fold,
When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,

And all complain of Cares to come:
The Flowers do fade, and wanton Fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields.
A honey Tongue, a Heart of Gall,
Is Fancy's Spring, but Sorrow's Fall.

Thy Gowns, thy Shoes, thy Bed of Rofes, ot
Thy Cap, thy Girdle, and thy Pofies:"

Some break, fome wither, fome forgotten,
In Folly ripe, in Reason rotten.
Thy Belt of Straw and Ivie Buds,
Thy Coral Clafps and Amber Studs,
All these in me no means can move,
To come to thee, and be thy Love.

But could Youth last, and Love ftill breed, tj-3
Had Joys no date, and Age no need ;

Then thefe Delights my Mind might move,

To live with thee, and be thy Love.

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