fhoulder, and with his royal finger thus dally with my excremént, with my muftachio; but fweet heart, let that pafs. By the world, I recount no fable; fome certain fpecial honours it pleaseth his Greatness to impart to Armado, a foldier, a man of travel, that hath feen the world; but let that pafs-the very all of all is-but fweet heart, I do implore fecrecy-that the King would have me prefent the Princefs (fweet chuck) with fome delightful oftentation, or fhow, or pageant, or antick, or fire-work. Now, understanding that the Curate and your fweet felf are good at fuch eruptions, and fudden breaking out of mirth, (as it were) I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your affiftance. Hol. Sir, you fhall present before her the nine worthies. Sir, as concerning fome entertainment of time, fome fhow in the pofterior of this day, to be rendered by our affiftants at the King's command, and this most gallant, illuftrate and learned gentleman, before the Princefs: I fay, none fo fit as to prefent the nine worthies. Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to prefent them? Hol. Joshua, yourfelf; this gallant man, Judas Macabeus; this fwain (because of his great limb or joint) fhall pafs Pompey the great; and the page, Hercules. Arm. Pardon, Sir, error: he is not quantity enough for that worthy's thumb; he is not fo big as the end of his club. Hol. Shall I have audience? he fhall prefent Hercules in minority: his Enter and Exit fhall be ftrangling a fnake; and I will have an apology for that purpofe. Moth. An excellent device: for if any of the audience hifs, you may cry ; "well done, Hercules, now thou "crufheft the fnake;" that is the way to make an offence gracious, tho' few have the grace to do it. Arm. For the reft of the worthies. Hol. I will play three myself. Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman! Arm. Shall I tell you a thing? Hol Hol. We attend. Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antick. I befeech you, follow.. Hel. Via! good-man Dull, thou haft spoken no word all this while. Dull. Nor understood none neither, Sir. Hol. Allons; we will employ thee. Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or fo: or I will play on the taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hay. Hal. Moft dull, honeft, Dull, to our sport away. [Exeunt. SCENE, before the Princess's Pavilion. Enter Princefs, and Ladies. Prin. Sweet hearts, we fhall be rich ere we depart, fairings come thus plentifully in. A Lady wall'd about with diamonds!. Look you, what I have from the loving King. Writ on both fides the leaf, margent and all; Rofa. That was the way to make his god-head wax, For he hath been five thousand years a boy. Cath. Ay, and a fhrewd unhappy gallows too. Cath. He made her melancholy, fad and heavy, (39) - as much love in rbime, As would be cram'd up in a sheet of paper, Writ on both fid.s the leaf, margent and all.] I dare not affirm this to be an imitation, but it carries a mighty re femblance of this paffage in the beginning of Juvenal's first fatire. fummi plenâ jam margine libri Scriptus, & in tergo, nec dum finitus Oreftes. She She might have been a grandam ere the dy'd. Rofa. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word? Cath. A light condition, in a beauty dark. Rofa. We need more light to find your meaning out. Cath. You'll marr the light, by taking it in fnuff: Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. Rofa. Look, what you do; and do it ftill i'th' dark. Cath. So do not you, for you are a light wench. Rofa. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light. Cath.You weigh me not; O, that's, you care not for me. Rofa. Great reafon; for paft cure is still paft care. (40) Prin. Well bandied both; a fet of wit well play'd. But, Rofaline, you have a favour too: Who fent it? and what is it? Rofa. I would, you knew. And if my face were but as fair as yours, The numbers true; and were the numbring too, O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter. Rofa. Much in the letters, nothing in the praife. Rofa. Ware pencils. How? let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter. O, that your face were not fo full of oes! Cath. Pox of that jeft, and I beshrew all fhrews: (41) Prin. (4)for past care is fill paft cure. ] The tranfpofition which I bave made in the two words, care and cure, is by the direction of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. The reafon speaks for itself. (41) Prin. Pox of that jeft, and I befbrew all shrews. As the Princess has behav'd with great decency all along hitherto, there is no reafon to be affign'd why she should start all at once into this courfe dialect. But I am perfuaded, the editors only have made her go out of character. In short, Rofaline and Catharine are rallying one another Prin. But what was fent to you from fair Dumaine ? Cath. Madam, this glove. Prin. Did he not fend you twain ? Cath. Yes, madam; and moreover, Some thoufand verses of a faithful lover. A huge tranflation of hypocrify, Vildly compil'd, profound fimplicity. Mar. This, and thefe pearls, to me fent Longaville; The letter is too long by half a mile. Prin. I think no lefs; doft thou not wifh in heart, The chain were longer, and the letter fhort ? Mar. Ay, or I would thefe hands might never part. Prin. We are wife girls, to mock our lovers for't. Rofa. They are worfe fools to purchase mocking fo. That fame Biron I'll torture, ere I go. O, that I knew he were but in by th' week, And make him proud to make me proud with jefts: Prin. None are fo furely caught, when they are catch'd, Rofa. The blood of youth burns not in fuch excefs, As gravities revolt to wantonnefs. another without referve; and to Catharine this first line certainly be long'd, and therefore I have ventur'd once more to put her in poffeffion of it. (42) So pertaunt like would I o'erfway bis fate ] If the editors are acquainted with this word, and can account for the meaning of it, their industry has been more fuccefsful than mine, for I can no where trace it. S pedant like, as I have ventur'd to replace in the text, makes very good fenfe, i. e. in fuch lordly, controlling, manner would I bear myself over him, &c. What Biron fays of a pedant, towards the conclufion of the 2d Act, countenances this conjecture. A domineering pedant o'er the boy, Mar. Mar. Folly in fools bears not fo ftrong a note, Enter Boyet. Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Boyet. O, Iam ftab'd with laughter; where's her Grace? Prin. Thy news, Boyet? Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare. Arm, wenches, arm? encounters mounted are I thought to clofe mine eyes fome half an hour; That well by heart hath conn'd his embaffage. 1 I fhould have fear'd her, had fhe been a devil.- One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd, and fwore, 3 Cry'd, |