The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 307

BEROWNE. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

COSTARD. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the Big- DUMAIN. The Great.

COSTARD. It is Great, sir.

Pompey surnam'd the Great, That oft in field, with targe and s.h.i.+eld, did make my foe to sweat; And travelling along this coast, I bere am come by chance, And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet la.s.s of France.

If your ladys.h.i.+p would say 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Great thanks, great Pompey.

COSTARD. 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect.

I made a little fault in Great.

BEROWNE. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for ALEXANDER

NATHANIEL. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might.

My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander- BOYET. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands to right.

BEROWNE. Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.

NATHANIEL. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander- BOYET. Most true, 'tis right, you were so, Alisander.

BEROWNE. Pompey the Great!

COSTARD. Your servant, and Costard.

BEROWNE. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

COSTARD. [To Sir Nathaniel] O, Sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be sc.r.a.p'd out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion, that holds his poleaxe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror and afeard to speak! Run away for shame, Alisander.

[Sir Nathaniel 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, faith, and a very good bowler; but for Alisander- alas! you see how 'tis- a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES, for JUDAS; and MOTH, for HERCULES

HOLOFERNES. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed ca.n.u.s; And when be was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his ma.n.u.s.

Quoniam he seemeth in minority, Ergo I come with this apology.

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [MOTH retires]

Judas I am- DUMAIN. A Judas!

HOLOFERNES. Not Iscariot, sir.

Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.

DUMAIN. Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.

BEROWNE. A kissing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas?

HOLOFERNES. Judas I am- DUMAIN. The more shame for you, Judas!

HOLOFERNES. What mean you, sir?

BOYET. To make Judas hang himself.

HOLOFERNES. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

BEROWNE. Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

HOLOFERNES. I will not be put out of countenance.

BEROWNE. Because thou hast no face.

HOLOFERNES. What is this?

BOYET. A cittern-head.

DUMAIN. The head of a bodkin.

BEROWNE. A death's face in a ring.

LONGAVILLE. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

BOYET. The pommel of Coesar's falchion.

DUMAIN. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.

BEROWNE. Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch.

DUMAIN. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

BEROWNE. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

HOLOFERNES. You have put me out of countenance.

BEROWNE. False: we have given thee faces.

HOLOFERNES. But you have outfac'd them all.

BEROWNE. An thou wert a lion we would do so.

BOYET. Therefore, as he is an a.s.s, let him go.

And so adieu, sweet Jude! Nay, why dost thou stay?

DUMAIN. For the latter end of his name.

BEROWNE. For the a.s.s to the Jude; give it him- Jud-as, away.

HOLOFERNES. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

BOYET. A light for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark, he may stumble.

[HOLOFERNES retires]

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!

Enter ARMADO, for HECTOR

BEROWNE. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

DUMAIN. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

KING. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

BOYET. But is this Hector?

DUMAIN. I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd.

LONGAVILLE. His leg is too big for Hector's.

DUMAIN. More calf, certain.

BOYET. No; he is best indued in the small.

BEROWNE. This cannot be Hector.

DUMAIN. He's a G.o.d or a painter, for he makes faces.

ARMADO. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift- DUMAIN. A gilt nutmeg.

BEROWNE. A lemon.

LONGAVILLE. Stuck with cloves.

DUMAIN. No, cloven.

ARMADO. Peace!

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; A man so breathed that certain he would fight ye, From morn till night out of his pavilion.

I am that flower- DUMAIN. That mint.

LONGAVILLE. That columbine.

ARMADO. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

LONGAVILLE. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

DUMAIN. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

ARMADO. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried; when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. [To the PRINCESS] Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

[BEROWNE steps forth, and speaks to COSTARD]

PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.

ARMADO. I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper.

BOYET. [Aside to DUMAIN] Loves her by the foot.

DUMAIN. [Aside to BOYET] He may not by the yard.

ARMADO. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal- COSTARD. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

ARMADO. What meanest thou?

COSTARD. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench is cast away. She's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours.

ARMADO. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.