Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Coft. 'Tis not fo 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 for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;

By east, weft, north and fouth, I fpread my conquering might My fcutcheon plain declares that I am Alifander.

Boyet. Your nofe fays, no, you are not; for it ftands too right.

Biron. Your nofe smells, no, in this, most tender fmelling Knight.

Prin. The conqueror is difmay'd: proceed, good Alexander.

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

Boyet. Moft true, 'tis right; you were fo, Alifander. Biron. Pompey the Great,

Coft. Your fervant and Coftard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alifander. Coft. O Sir, you have overthrown Alifander the conqueror. [to Nath.] You will be fcraped out of the painted cloth for this; your lion, that holds the poll-ax fitting on a clofe-ftool (50), will be given to A-jax; he will be then the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afraid to

(50) Your lion that holds the poll-ax fitting on a closestool,] Alexander the Great, as one of the nine worthies, bears gules; a lion, or, feiant in a chair, holding a battle-ax argent. Vid. Ger. Leigh's Accidence of Armouries.-- But why, because Nathaniel had behaved ill as Alexander, was that worthy's lion and poll-ax to be given to Ajax? Coftard, the clown, has a conceit in this very much of a piece with his character. The name of Ajax is equivocally us'd by him; and he means, the infignia of fuch a conqueror, as the curate exhibited in his wretched representation, ought to be given to a Fakes ;---fit verboreverentia! the fame fort of conundrum is ufed by B. Jonson at the clofe of his poem, call'd, The famous Voyage.

And I could with, for their eterniz'd fakes,
My mufe had plow'd with his that fung A-jax,

speak?

fpeak? run away for fhame, Alifander. There, an't fhall please you; a foolish mild man; an honeft man, look you, and foon dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, infooth, and a very good bowler; but for Alijander, alas, you fee, how 'tis a little o'er-parted: but there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in fome other fort.

Biron. Stand afide, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules. Hol. Great Hercules is prefented by this imp,

Whofe club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus;

And when he was a babe, a child, a fhrimp,
Thus did he ftrangle ferpents in his manus :

Quoniam, he feemeth in minority;

Ergo, I come with this apology.

Keep fome ftate in thy Exit, and vanifh. [Exit Moth. Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Ifcariot, Sir;

Judas I am, ycleped Machabeus.

Dum. Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.

Biron. A kiffing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas?

Hol. Judas I am.

Dum. The more fhame 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 haft 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, fcarce feen. .
Boyet. The pummel of Cæfar's faulchion.
Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flafk.
Biron. St. George's half cheek in a brooch.
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer; And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenancce. Biron. Falfe; we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.

Biron. And thou wert a lion, we would do fo. Boyet. Therefore as he is an afs, let him go. And fo adieu, fweet Jude; nay, why doft thou ftay? Dam. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the Afs to the Jude; give it him. Jud-as, away. Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monfieur Judas; it grows dark, he may ftumble.

Prin. Alas! poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited! Enter Armado.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in

arms.

Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now

be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?

King. I think, Hector was not fo clean timber'd.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is best indu'd in the small.

Biron. This can't be Hector.

Dum. He's a god or a painter, for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift,

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

A man fo breathed, that certain he would fight ye
From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.

I am that flower.

Dum. That mint,

Long

Long. That cullambine.

Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Long. I muft rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a grey-hound.

Arm. The fweet war-man is dead and rotten; Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the bury'd: But I will forward with my device;

Sweet royalty, beftow on me the fenfe of hearing. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy fweet Grace's flipper.

Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not, by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far furmounted Hannibal (51). Coft. The party is gone, fellow Hector, fhe is gone; fhe is two months on her way.

Arm. What mean'ft thou?

Coft. Faith, unless you play the honeft Trojan, the poor wench is caft away; fhe's quick, the child brags in her belly already. 'Tis yours.

Arm. Doft thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die.

Cot. Then fhall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him.

Dum. Moft rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd; more Ates, more Ates, ftir them on, ftir them on.

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

(51) This Hector far furmounted Hannibal.

The party is gone.]

All the editions ftupidly have plac'd thefe laft words as part of Armado's fpeech in the interlude. I have ventur'd to give them to Coflard, who is for putting Armado out of his part, by telling him the party (i. e. his mistress Jaquenetta,) is gone two months with child by him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will fup a flea.

Arm. By the north-pole, I do challenge thee.

Coft. I will not fight with a pole like a northern man: I'll flafh; I'll do't by the fword: I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incenfed worthies.

Coft. I'll do't in my fhirt.

Dum. Moft refolute Pompey!

Moth. Mafter, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do ye not fee, Pompey is uncafing for the combat: what mean you? you will lofe your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and foldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my fhirt.

Dum. You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Biron. What reafon have you for't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no fhirt; I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, (52) and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen; fince when, I'll be fworn he wore none, but a difh-clout of Jaquenetta's, and that he wears next his heart for a favour.

Enter Macard.

Mac. God fave you, Madam.

(52) And it was injoin'd him in Rome for want of linen.] Shake Speare certainly alludes here to a famous ftory, a matter of fact that happen'd at Rome, fometime, I think, before his time. A Spaniard fell in a duel : in his last moments one of his most intimate friends chanc'd to come by, condol'd with him, and offer'd his best service. The dying perfon told him he had but one request to make to him, and conjur'd him by the memory of their long friendship punctually to comply with it: which was, not to fuffer him to be ftript as ufual, but to bury him in the condition, and very habit he was then in. When this was promis'd, the Spaniard clos'd his eyes, with great compofure and fatisfaction. But his friend's curiofity-prevail'd over his obligations, and defiring to know the reason of fo uncommon a request, fo earnestly prefs'd, he had him stripp'd; and found to his great furprize, he was without a shirt. Mr. Warburton