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Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey ; Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play. But if thou strive (poor soul) what art thou then?, Food for his rage, repasture for his den. sletter?
Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?
Boyet. I am much deceiv’d, but I remember the ftile.
Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniardthat keeps here in court, A phantasme, a monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his book-mates.
Prin. Thou, fellow, a word:
thee this letter?
Coft. From my Lord Berown, a good master of mine, To a Lady of France, that he calld Rofaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, Lords, away. Here, sweet, put up this ; 'twill be thine another day.
[Exit Princess attended. Boyet. Who is the shooter? who is the shooter ? Rosa. Shall I teach you to know? Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty. Rosa. Why, ie that bears the bow. Finely put off.
Bayer. My Lady goes to kill horns: but if thou marry, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on.
Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter,
deer? Rofa. If we chuse by horns, yourself; come not near. Finely put on, indeed. Mar. You fill wrangle with her, Boyet, and the
strikes at the brow. Boyet. But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?
Roja. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, 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.
Rofa. Thou can'ft not hit it, hit it, hit it. [Singing Thou can'ft not hit it, my good man.
Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot ; An I cannot, another can.
[Exit Rofa, Coft. By my troth, most pleasant; how both dià fit it. Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both did hit
it. Boyet. A mark? O, mark but that mark! a mark,
says my lady; Let the mark have a prick in't, to meet at, if it may be.
Mar. Wide o’th' bow-hand; i'faith, your hand is out. Coft. Indeed, a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit
the clout. Boyet. Anif my hand be out, then belike your handisin. Coft. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin. Mar.Come,come,you talk greasily; your lipsgrow foul. Coft. She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir, challenge
her to bowl. Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; good night, my good owl.
[Exeunt all but Costard. Coff. By my soul, a swain; a moft fimple clown. Lord, Lord! how the Ladies and I have put him down! O’my troth, most sweet jefts, most incony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were,
so fit. Armado o' th' one fide, O, a most dainty man ; To see him walk before a Lady, and to bear her fan. To see him kiss his hand, and how moft sweetly he will
swear: And his
o't other side, that handful of wit ; Ah, heav'ns! it is a most pathetical nit. [Exit Costard.
[Shouting within Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Sir Nathaniel. Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience. Hol. The deer was (as you know) sanguis, in blood;
ripe as a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Coelo, the sky, the welkin, the heav'n; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.
Nath. Truly, master Holofernes,' the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the leaft: but, Sir, I assure it was a buck of the first head.
Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Hol. Most 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 show, as it were, his inclination; after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or rathereit unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a deer.
Duli. Isaid, the deerwas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.
Hol. Twice fod fimplicity, bis co&tus; O thou monster ignorance, how deformed doft thou look ?
Nath, Sir, he hath never fed on the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper as it were ; he hath not drunk ink. His intelleat is not replenished. He is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts ; (20) and such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be for those parts, (which we taste and feel, ingradare) that do fructify in us, more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or
a fool; So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school.
(20) And such barren plants are e set before us, that we thankful should be ; which we taste, and feeling are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he.] If this be not a stubborn piece of nonsente, I'll never venture to judge of common sense. That editors should take such passages upon content, is, surely, surprising. The words, 'tis plain, have been ridiculously, and stupidly, transpos’d and corrupted. The emendation I have offer'd, I hope, restores the author; at least, I am fure, it gives him sense and grammar: and answers extremely well to his metaphors taken from planting.-maringradare, with the Italians, Signifies, to rise higher and higher; andare di grado in grado, to make a progression, and so at length come to fructify, as the poet expresses it,
But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.
Dúll.You two are book-men; can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five
weeks old as yet? Hol. Dictynna, good-man Dull; Ditiynna, good-man Dull.
Dull. What is Dietynna ?
And rought not to five weeks, when he came to five-score. Thallufion holds in the exchange.
Dull. 'Tis true, indeed; the collufion holds in the exchange.
Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.
Dull. And I say, the pollution holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month
old; and I say befide, that 'twas a pricket that the Princess kill'd.
Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer; and to humour the ignorant, I have call’d the deer the Princess kill'd, a pricket.
Nath. Perge, good mafter Holofernes, perge; so it shall please you to abrogate fcurrility,
Hol.' I will fomething affect the letter; for it argues. facility.
The praiseful Princess pierc'd and prickt
A pretty pleasing pricket.
Till now made fore with Mooting.
Then forel jumpt from thicket;
The people fall a hooting.
Makes fifty fores, O forel!
Nath. A rare talent! · Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.
Hol. This is a gift that I have, fimple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, Thapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourish'd in the womb of pia mater, and deliver'd upon the mellowing of occasion; but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.
Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so 'may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor’d by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you ; you are a good member of the common-wealth.
Hol. Mehercle, if their fons be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But vir fapit, qui pauca loquitur ; a soul feminine saluteth us.
Enter Jaquenetta, and Costard.
Hol. Mafter Parson, quafi Person. And if one should be pierc’d, which is the one?
Coft. Marry, master school-master, he that is likeft to a hogshead. Hol
. Of piercing a hogshead, a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth, fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine : 'Tis pretty, it is well.
Jaq. Good master Parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Coftard, and sent me from Don Armatho. I beseech you, read it. Hol. Faufte, precor, gelida (21) quando pecus omne fub umbra
Ruminat, (21) Nath. Fauste, precor, gelida) Tho' all the editions concur to give this speech to Sir Nathaniel, yet, as Dr. Thirlby ingeniously observ'd to me, it is evident, it must belong to Holofernes. The curate is employ'd in reading the letter to himself; and while he is doing so, that the stage may not stand still, Holofernes either pulls out a book ; or, repeating some verses by heart from Mantuanus, comments upon the character of that poet. Baptista Spagnolus, (firnamed Mantuanus,