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poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates ?
thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him ; and hang’d, for Pompey that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Biron, Greater than great, great, great, great
Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is mov'd :-More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on !
Dum. Hector will challenge him.
Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.
Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.
Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll flash; I'll do it by the sword :- I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Cost. I'll do it in my shirt. Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower, Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat ? What mean you ? you will lose your reputation.
Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.
Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath inade the challenge.
Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you for’t ?
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;
Mer. I ain sorry, madam ; for the news I bring,
Prin. Dead, for my life.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
(Ereunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty ? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. King Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say.-[ thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, The liberal opposition of our spirits : If over-boldly we have borne ourselves In the converse of breath, your gentleness Was guilty of it-Farewell, worthy lord !
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:
King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double.
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Prin. A time, methinks, too short
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank;
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Kath. A wife !-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say:
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