Love's Labor's Lost (Folio 1, 1623)
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142
Loues Labour's lost
¶stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth wor-
¶thie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away
2535He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie
¶little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming,
Exit Cu.
2540
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
¶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:
2545Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
¶Ergo, I come with this Apologie.
Exit Boy
¶Ped. Iudas I am.
¶Dum. A Iudas?
¶Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus.
¶Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.
¶Ped. Iudas I am.
¶Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder.
2560Ped. I will not be put out of countenance.
¶Ped. What is this?
¶Boi. A Citterne head.
¶Dum. The head of a bodkin.
2565Ber. A deaths face in a ring.
¶Ber. S. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch.
2570Dum. 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.
2575Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all.
¶Dum. For the latter end of his name.
¶way.
¶Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
¶may stumble.
2585Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene
¶baited.
¶
Enter Braggart.
¶Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
¶Armes.
2590Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
¶now be merrie.
¶Boi. But is this Hector?
2595Lon. His legge is too big for Hector.
¶Dum. More Calfe certaine.
¶Ber. This cannot be Hector.
¶Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.
2600Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
¶gaue Hector a gift.
¶Dum. A gilt Nutmegge.
¶Ber. A Lemmon.
¶Lon. Stucke with Cloues.
2605Dum. 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.
2610I am that Flower.
¶Dum. That Mint.
¶Long. That Cullambine.
¶Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue.
2615gainst Hector.
¶Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound.
¶Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:
¶But I will forward with my deuice;
¶
Berowne steppes forth.
¶Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted.
¶Boy. Loues her by the foot.
2625Dum. He may not by the yard.
¶
The partie is gone.
¶on her way.
¶in her belly alreadie: tis yours.
2635Thou shalt die.
¶is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
¶him.
2640Boi. Renowned Pompey.
¶Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
¶Pompey the huge.
¶Dum. Hector trembles.
2645them, 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.
2650Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man;
¶row my Armes againe.
M5v
meane
