That's too long for a play.

Our wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.

A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Studies my lady? mistress, look on me;
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there:
Impose some service on me for thy love.

[And what to me, my love? and what to me?

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,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents ...

Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud.

What reason have you for't?

Ay, if a' have no man's blood in's belly than will
sup a flea.

Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them
on! stir them on!

Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!
Pompey the Huge!

A lemon.

This cannot be Hector.

Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.

For the ass to the Jude; give it him:--Jud-as, away!

An thou wert a lion, we would do so.

False; we have given thee faces.

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

Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch.

A Death's face in a ring.

Because thou hast no face.

Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?

Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Pompey the Great,--

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

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

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

The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool
and the boy:--
Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

There is five in the first show.

Why ask you?

A right description of our sport, my lord.

We are shame-proof, my lord: and tis some policy
To have one show worse than the king's and his company.

Go, bid them prepare.

Art thou one of the Worthies?

How much is it?

By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

Is not nine.

And three times thrice is nine.

What, are there but three?

Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
Enter COSTARD
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.

Neither of either; I remit both twain.
I see the trick on't: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years and knows ...

Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.

Peace! for I will not have to do with you.

Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.

Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:
Write, 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three;
They are infected; in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of ...

Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
Can any face of brass hold longer out?
Here stand I lady, dart thy skill at me;
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit ...

Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?

I cannot give you less.