Rug. 'Tis paft the hour, Sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet. Caius. By gar, he has fave his foul, dat he is no come; he has pray his pible well, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come. Rug. He is wife, Sir; he knew, your worship would kill him, if he came. Caius. By gar, de herring is not fo dead as me vill make him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tel you how I will kill him.' Rug. Alas, Sir, I cannot fence. Enter Hoft, Shallow, Slender and Page. Hoft. 'Blefs thee, bully Doctor. Shal. 'Save you, Mr. Doctor Caius. Page. Now, good Mr. Doctor. Slen. Give you good morrow, Sir. Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? Hoft. To fee thee fight, to fee thee foigne, to fee thee traverse, to fee thee here, to fee thee there, to fee thee pass thy puncto, thy ftock, thy reverse, thy dif tance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Françoyes? ha, bully? what fays my Efculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha? is he dead, bully-ftale? is he dead? Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack-Priest of de vorld; he is not fhow his face. Hoft. Thou art a Caftalion-king-Urinal: Hector of Greece, my boy. my Caius. I pray you bear witness, that me have ftay fix or feven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. Shal. He is the wifer man, Mr. Doctor; he is a curer of of fouls, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you go against the hair of your profeffions: Is it not true, mafter Page? Page. Mafter Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, tho' now a man of peace. Shal. Body-kins, Mr. Page, tho' I now be old, and of peace, if I fee a fword out, my finger itches to make one; tho' we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Mr. Page, we have fome falt of our youth in us; we are the fons of women, Mr. Page. Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow. Shal. It will be found fo, Mr. Page. Mr. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home; I am fworn of the peace; you have fhew'd yourself a wife physician, and Sir Hugh hath fhown himself a wife and patient church-man: you must go with me, Mr. Doctor. Hoft. Pardon, gueft-juftice; a word, Monfieur mock-water. Caius, Mock-vater? vat is dat? Hoft. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. Caius. By gar, then I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman, fcurvy-jack-dog-prieft; by gar, me vill cut his ears. Hoft. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. Hoft. That is, he will make thee amends. Caius. By gar, me do look, he fhall clapper-de-claw me; for by gar, me vill have it. Hoft. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. Caius. Me tank you for dat. Hoft. And moreover, bully: but first, Mr. Guest, and Mr. Page, and eek Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? Hoft. He is there; fee, what humour he is in; and I will bring the Doctor about the fields: will it do well? Sbal, We will do it. All. Adieu, good Mr. Doctor. [Exeunt Page, Shallow and Slender. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. Heft. Let him die; but, first, sheath thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feafting; and thou fhalt woo her. Cry aim, faid I well? 5 I will bring thee where Anne Page is, at a farm-bouse a feafting; and thou shalt woo her, CRY'D GAME; faid I <well?] Mr. Theobald aiters this nonsense to try'd game; that is, to nonfense of a worse complexion. Shakespear wrote and pointed thus, CRY AIM, faid I well? i. e. confent to it, approve of it. Have not I made a good propofal? for to cry aim fignifies to confent to, or approve of any thing. So again in this play, p. 300, And to thefe violent proceedings all my neighbours fball CRY AIM, i. e. approve them. And again in King John, A& 2. Scene 2, It ill becomes this prefence to CRY AIM To thefe ill-tuned repetitions, 4.e. to approve of, or encourage them. The phrafe was taken, originally, from archery. When any one had challenged another to fhoot at the butts (the perpetual diverfion, as well as exercise, of that time) the ftanders-by used to fay one to the other, Cry aim, i. e. accept the challenge. Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Fair maid of the inn, Act 5, make the Duke say, muft I cry AIME To this unheard of infolence i.e. encourage it, and agree to the request of the duel, which one of his fubjects had infolently demanded against the other. But here it is remarkable, that the fenfelefs editors not knowing what to make of the phrafe Cry aim, read it thus, must I cry AI-ME: As if it was a note of interjection. So again Maflinger in his Guardian, I will CRY AIM, and in another room And again, in his Renegado, to play the Pandor To the Viceroy's loofe embraces, and CRY AIM, But the Oxford Editor transforms it to Cock o' th' Game; and his improvements of Shakespear's language abound with these modern elegancies of fpeech, fuch as Mynheers, Bull-baitings, &c. Caius. Caius. By gar, me tank you vor dat: by gar, I love you; and I fhall procure 'a you de good gueft; de Earl, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients. Hoft. For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page: faid I well? Caius. By gar, 'tis good; vell faid. Hoft. Let us wag then. Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Frogmore, near Windfor. Enter Evans and Simple. EVANS. Pray you now, good mafter Slender's fervingman, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you look'd for master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Phyfick? Simp. Marry, Sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, every way, old Windfor way, and every way but the town way. Eva. I most fehemently defire you, you will alfo look that way. Simp. I will, Sir. Eva. 'Plefs my foul, how full of chollars I am, and trempling of mind! I fhall be glad, if he have deceiv'd me; how melanchollies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's coftard, when I have good opportunities for the orke: 'Plefs my foul! [Sings, being afraid. 1 By fhallow rivers, to whofe falls By fhallow-Mercy on me! I have a great difpofi- ; Simp. 1 By fhallow rivers, &c.] This is part of a beautiful little poem of the author's, which poem, and the answer to it, the reader will not be difpleased to find here. The Paffionate Shepherd to his Love. Live with me, and be my Love, |