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Long. Stuck with cloves.
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
That columbine. . Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector.
Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.
Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breath'd, he was a man.-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing.
[Biron whispers Costard. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much de
Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.
Arm. What meanest 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; 'tis yours.
Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten
tates? thou shalt die. Cost. 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!
Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!
Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is mov’d:~More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector 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 slash; I'll do it by the sword:- I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole 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 in
shirt. Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.
Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Arm The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go wool-ward for
penance. Boy. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta’s; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.
Mer. God save you, madam!
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;
Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father,
Prin. Dead, for my life.
Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
[Ereunt Worthies. 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,
Was guilty of it. ---Farewel, worthy lord !
King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
ble. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear
of grief;And by these badges understand the king. For your
fair sakes 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 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 strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more
Long. So did our looks.
We did not quote them so.
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,If for my love (as there is no such cause) You will do aught, this shall you do for me: Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed