Cos. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy; but I am to stand for him.

Biron. Go, bid them prepare. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.

[Exit Costard. King. Biron, they will shame us, let them not

approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis

some policy To have one show worse than the king's and his

company.
King. I say, they shall not come.
Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you

now;
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.

Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

ADO.

Enter ARMADO.
Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words,
[Armado converses with the King, and delivers

him a paper.]
Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?
Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making.

Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

[Exit Armado. King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Fompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Macchabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other

five. Biron. There is five in the first show. King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so. Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest,

the fool, and the boy :Abate a throw at Novum 57; and the whole world

again, Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein. King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes

amain.
[Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c.

Pageant of the Nine Worthies.

Enter Costarp arm’d, for Pompey.
Cost. I Pompey am, —
Boyet.

You lie, you are not he.
Cost. I Pompey am, —

friends with cell said, with libbard's

Boyet.

With libbard's head on knee 58. Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big, -
Dum. The great.

Cost. It is great, sir;- Pompey surnam'd the great; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make

my foe to sweat: And, travelling along this coast, I here am come by

chance; And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of

France.
If your ladyship would say Thanks, Pompey, I had

done.
Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Cost. 'Tis not so much worth ; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great.

Biron. My hat to a half-penny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL arın’d, for Alexander.
Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's

commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquer

ing might; My'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not: for it

stands too right. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender

smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good

Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the

world's commander ;Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Ali.

sander. Biron. Pompey the great, Cost.

Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Ali

sander. Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy 59. A conqueror, and afcard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a litile o'er-parted:- But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes arm’d, for Judas, and Moth

armd, for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill d Cerberus, that three-headed

And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority;
Ergo, I come with this apology.-
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Exit Moth.

Hol. Judas I am,-
Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.“
Judas I am, y’cleped Machabæus.

Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron. A kissing traitor:-How art thou prov'd

Judas?
Hol. Judas I am, - .
Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol. What mean you, sir?
Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Biron. Because thou hast no face.
Hol. What is this?
Boyet. A cittern head.
Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Biron. A death's face in a ring.
Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum. The carv’d-bone face on a flask.
Biron. St. George's half-check in a brooch.
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.