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 ! 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; 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 made 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. Enter MERCADE. Mer. God save you, madam! Prin. Welcome, Mercade; But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. 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. King. How fares your majesty? [Exeunt Worthies. Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue: King. The extreme parts of time extremely form All causes to the purpose of his speed; And often, at his very loose, decides That, which long process could not arbitrate: The holy suit which fain it would convince; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the king. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Have we not been; and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment. Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. Prin. A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in: There stay, until the twelve celestial signs Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Then, at the expiration of the year, Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, 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: |