The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of
Apollo. You that way: we this way.

Holla! approach.
Re-enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD,
and others
This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring;
the one maintained by the owl, the other by the
cuckoo. Ver, begin.
THE SONG
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do ...

I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am
a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the
plough for her sweet love three years. But, most
esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that
the two learned men have compiled in praise of the
owl and ...

Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,--

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.

The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go
woolward for penance.

Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat
in my shirt.

By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt
die.

What meanest thou?

This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,--

I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.

The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks,
beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed,
he was a man. But I will forward with my device.
To the PRINCESS
Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Peace!--
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,--

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,--

That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for,
I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding
fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we
will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra.
I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!

Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal
sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I
beseech you, follow.

Shall I tell you a thing?

For the rest of the Worthies?--

Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for
that Worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.

Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar,
I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is
inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee,
remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy
head: and among other important and most serious
designs, and of great ...

Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and
affection to congratulate the princess at her
pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the
rude multitude call the afternoon.

At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.

Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singled from the
barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the
charge-house on the top of the mountain?

Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet
touch, a quick venue of wit! snip, snap, quick and
home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!

To HOLOFERNES Monsieur, are you not lettered?

Men of peace, well encountered.

Chirrah!

I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and,
in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
bear this significant
Giving a letter
to the country maid Jaquenetta:
there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine
honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.

By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty,
enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured,
restrained, captivated, bound.

Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.

We will talk no more of this matter.

But tell me; how was there a costard broken in a shin?

Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?

Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.

No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.

By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes
me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars!
Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and
the word l'envoy for a salve?

Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy; begin.

A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return'd.

Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
I shoot thee at the swain.

I say lead is slow.

The meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?

The way is but short: away!

Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter.

I am all these three.