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do it, Ex
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces :
A pavilion in the park near the palace.
Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords,
AS that the king that spurr'd his horse so hard
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch,
For. Hard by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth."
Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praife.
When, for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part,
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Lords o'er their lords?
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.*
Boyet. I am bound to serve.
This letter is miftook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
Prin. We will read it, I fwear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
Y 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, havę commiferation on thy heroical vaffal! The magnanimous and moft illuftrate king Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (o bafe and obfcure 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 he? to the beggar; what faw he? the beggar; whom overcame he? the beggar: the conclusion is victory; on whose side? the king's: the captive is 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 comparison) thou the beggar, for fo witneffeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may: fhall I enforce thy love? I could: fhall I entreat thy love? I will. What fhalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thyfelf? me. Thus, expecting 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 design of industry,
Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play.
Prin. What plume of feathers is he that endited this letter?
Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style.
Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court,
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 should'st thou give it?
Prin. From which lord to which lady?
Coft. From my lord Berown, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he call'd Rofaline.
Prin. Thou haft mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
Here, fweet, put up this, 'twill be thine another day.' [Exeunt.
Ref. Well then, I am the fhooter.
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 faying, that was a man when king Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?
Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
Ref. Thou can'ft not hit it, hit it, hit it. Thou can't not hit it, my good man.
Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Nathaniel.
ERY reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good confcience.
Hol. The deer was, as you know, fanguis, in blood; ripe as a pomwater; who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cœlo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the foil, the land, the earth.
Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I affure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket.
Hol. Moft barbarous intimation! yet a kind of infinuation, as it were, in via, in way of explication; facere, as it were, replication; or, rather, oftentare, to fhow, as it were,
Boyet. I cannot, cannot, cannot.
An I cannot, another can.
Coft. By my troth, moft pleasant! how both did fit it!
Mar. Á mark marvellous well fhot; for they both did hit it.
Mar. Wide o'th' bow hand; i'faith your hand is out.
Caft. Indeed, a' muft fhoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
To fee him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To fee him kifs his hand, and how moft fweetly he will fwear!
Ah, heav'ns! it is a most pathetical nit!