Chapter III: Part 3

Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do, If they returne in their owne shapes to wo? Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd. Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd: Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare, Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare: And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd: And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our Tent to vs

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand

Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.

Exeunt.

Enter the King and the rest.

King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?
Boy. Gone to her Tent.
Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?
King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word

Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.
Enter.

Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease, And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please. He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares, At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires. And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know, Haue not the grace to grace it with such show. This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue. Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue. He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he, That kist away his hand in courtesie. This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice, That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing A meane most meanly, and in Vshering Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete. The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete. This is the flower that smiles on euerie one, To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone. And consciences that wil not die in debt, Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet

King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart, That put Armathoes Page out of his part. Enter the Ladies.

Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day

Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue

King. Construe my speeches better, if you may

Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue

King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then

Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men

King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
The vertue of your eie must breake my oth

Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke: For vertues office neuer breakes men troth. Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yeeld to be your houses guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie

Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere,
Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame

Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare, We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game, A messe of Russians left vs but of late

Kin. How Madam? Russians?
Qu. I in truth, my Lord.
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state

Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord: My Ladie (to the manner of the daies) In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise. We foure indeed confronted were with foure In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre, And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord) They did not blesse vs with one happy word. I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke, When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke

Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete, Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie: By light we loose light; your capacitie Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore, Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore

Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie
Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue

Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse

Ros. All the foole mine

Ber. I cannot giue you lesse

Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?
Why demand you this?
Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face

Kin. We are discried,
They'l mocke vs now downeright

Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest

Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes sadde? Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke you pale? Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie

Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury. Can any face of brasse hold longer out? Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit: And I will wish thee neuer more to dance, Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite. O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue. Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue, Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise, Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection; Figures pedanticall, these summer flies, Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation. I do forsweare them, and I heere protest, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows) Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes. And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law, My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw, Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you

Ber. Yet I haue a tricke Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke. Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three, They are infected, in their hearts it lies: They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These Lords are visited, you are not free: For the Lords tokens on you do I see

Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs

Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs

Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue

Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend

Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end

King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression,
some faire excuse

Qu. The fairest is confession.
Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
Kin. Madam, I was

Qu. And were you well aduis'd?
Kin. I was faire Madam

Qu. When you then were heere,
What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
King. That more then all the world I did respect her
Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect
her

King. Vpon mine Honor no

Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare

King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine

Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your eare? Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare As precious eye-sight, and did value me Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer, That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer

Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
Most honorably doth vphold his word

King. What meane you Madame? By my life, my troth I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth

Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
You gaue me this: But take it sir againe

King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,
I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue

Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare. And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare. What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe? Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine. I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas Comedie. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie, Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd; Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she. Now to our periurie, to adde more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie? And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie? You put our Page out: go, you are alowd. Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd. You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie Wounds like a Leaden sword

Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere
bene run

Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
Enter Clowne.

Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray

Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no

Ber. What, are there but three?
Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,
For euerie one pursents three

Ber. And three times thrice is nine

Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir

Ber. Is not nine

Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it
doth amount

Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine

Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your
liuing by reckning sir

Ber. How much is it? Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir

Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?
Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
the Worthie, but I am to stand for him

Ber. Go, bid them prepare.
Enter.

Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some
care

King. Berowne, they will shame vs:
Let them not approach

Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his companie

Kin. I say they shall not come

Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how. Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents: Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth

Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.
Enter Braggart.

Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words

Qu. Doth this man serue God?
Ber. Why aske you?
Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making

Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde most royall cupplement

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites, and present the other fiue

Ber. There is fiue in the first shew

Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so

Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the Foole, and the Boy, Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe, Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine

Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.
Enter Pompey.

Clo. I Pompey am

Ber. You lie, you are not he

Clo. I Pompey am

Boy. With Libbards head on knee

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

Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big

Du. The great

Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great: That oft in field, with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat: And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance, And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of France. If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done

La. Great thankes great Pompey

Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect.
I made a little fault in great

Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie. Enter Curate for Alexander.

Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander: By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander

Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not:
For it stands too right

Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling
Knight

Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:
Proceede good Alexander

Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander

Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander

Ber. Pompey the great

Clo. your seruant and Costard

Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort.

Exit Cu.

Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie, Ergo, I come with this Apologie. Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy

Ped. Iudas I am

Dum. A Iudas?
Ped. Not Iscariot sir.
Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus

Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas

Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?
Ped. Iudas I am

Dum. The more shame for you Iudas

Ped. What meane you sir?
Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe

Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder

Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder

Ped. I will not be put out of countenance

Ber. Because thou hast no face

Ped. What is this?
Boi. A Citterne head

Dum. The head of a bodkin

Ber. A deaths face in a ring

Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene

Boi. The pummell of C├Žsars Faulchion

Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske

Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch

Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead

Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.
And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
Ped. You haue put me out of countenance

Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces

Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all

Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so

Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:
And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name

Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away

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

Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he
may stumble

Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene baited. Enter Braggart.

Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
Armes

Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
now be merrie

King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this

Boi. But is this Hector?
Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd

Lon. His legge is too big for Hector

Dum. More Calfe certaine

Boi. No, he is best indued in the small

Ber. This cannot be Hector

Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces

Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
gaue Hector a gift

Dum. A gilt Nutmegge

Ber. A Lemmon

Lon. Stucke with Cloues

Dum. No clouen

Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion; A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea From morne till night, out of his Pauillion. I am that Flower

Dum. That Mint

Long. That Cullambine

Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue

Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against
Hector

Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound

Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten, Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried: But I will forward with my deuice; Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.

Berowne steppes forth.

Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted

Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper

Boy. Loues her by the foot

Dum. He may not by the yard

Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.
The partie is gone

Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths
on her way

Brag. What meanest thou?
Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the
poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags
in her belly alreadie: tis yours

Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou shalt die

Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him

Dum. Most rare Pompey

Boi. Renowned Pompey

Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
Pompey the huge

Dum. Hector trembles

Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre
them, or stirre them on

Dum. Hector will challenge him

Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then
will sup a Flea

Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee

Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe

Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies

Clo. Ile do it in my shirt

Dum. Most resolute Pompey

Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your reputation

Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will
not combat in my shirt

Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the
challenge

Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will

Ber. What reason haue you for't?
Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,
I go woolward for penance

Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour. Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.

Mar. God saue you Madame

Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest
our merriment

Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is
heauie in my tongue. The King your father
Qu. Dead for my life

Mar. Euen so: My tale is told

Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud

Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt. Worthies

Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?
Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night

Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay

Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirits, If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so easily obtain'd

Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the purpose of his speed: And often at his verie loose decides That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue: The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so wholsome profitable, As to reioyce at friends but newly found

Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double

Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors Euen to the opposed end of our intents. And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied obiect in his glance: Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies, Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities. Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace

Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue. And in our maiden counsaile rated them, At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As bumbast and as lining to the time: But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment

Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest

Lon. So did our lookes

Rosa. We did not coat them so

Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre,
Grant vs your loues

Qu. A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me. Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning. If this austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue, But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of the yeare, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Raining the teares of lamentation, For the remembrance of my Fathers death. If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the others hart

Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie. Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest

Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd. You are attaint with faults and periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke

Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?
Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie,
With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three

Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife? Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say. Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some

Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then

Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen

Lon. What saies Maria?
Mari. At the tweluemonths end,
Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend

Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long

Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong

Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eie: What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me for my loue

Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes, Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wit. To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile

Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie

Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation

Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,
Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall

Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue

King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way

Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie

Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,
And then 'twil end

Ber. That's too long for a play.
Enter Braggart.

Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me

Qu. Was not that Hector?
Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy

Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew

Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so

Brag. Holla, Approach.
Enter all.

This side is Hiems, Winter. This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle, Th' other by the Cuckow. Ver, begin.

The Song.

When Dasies pied, and Violets blew, And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew: And Ladie-smockes all siluer white, Do paint the Medowes with delight. The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mockes married men, for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare. When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes, And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes: When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes: The Cuckow then on euerie tree Mockes married men; for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare

Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall, And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile; And Tom beares Logges into the hall, And Milke comes frozen home in paile: When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle Tuwhit towho. A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot. When all aloud the winde doth blow, And coffing drownes the Parsons saw: And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marrians nose lookes red and raw: When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle, Tuwhit towho: A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot

Brag. The Words of Mercurie, Are harsh after the songs of Apollo: You that way; we this way.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS.