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BOYET
I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
Exeunt BOYET and MARIA
COSTARD
By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!
Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down!
O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony
vulgar wit!
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it
were, so fit.
Armado o' th' one side,--O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a'
will swear!
And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
Sola, sola!
Shout within
Exit COSTARD, running
SCENE II. The same
Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL
SIR NATHANIEL
Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony
of a good conscience.
HOLOFERNES
The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe
as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in
the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven;
and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra,
the soil, the land, the earth.
SIR NATHANIEL
Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly
varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I
assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
HOLOFERNES
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
DULL
'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.
HOLOFERNES
Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of
insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of
explication; facere, as it were, replication, or
rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his
inclination, after his undressed, unpolished,
uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather,
unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to
insert again my haud credo for a deer.
DULL
I said the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.
HOLOFERNES
Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus!
O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
SIR NATHANIEL
Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred
in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he
hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not
replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in
the duller parts:
And such barren plants are set before us, that we
thankful should be,
Which we of taste and feeling are, for those parts that
do fructify
in us more than he.
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,
So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:
But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,
Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.
DULL
You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five
weeks old as yet?
HOLOFERNES
Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.
DULL
What is Dictynna?
SIR NATHANIEL
A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.
HOLOFERNES
The moon was a month old when Adam was no more,
And raught not to five weeks when he came to
five-score.
The allusion holds in the exchange.
DULL
'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.
HOLOFERNES
God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds
in the exchange.
DULL
And I say, the pollusion holds in the exchange; for
the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside
that, 'twas a pricket that the princess killed.
HOLOFERNES
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph
on the death of the deer? And, to humour the
ignorant, call I the deer the princess killed a pricket.
SIR NATHANIEL
Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it shall
please you to abrogate scurrility.
HOLOFERNES
I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.
The preyful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty
pleasing pricket;
Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made
sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell: put L to sore, then sorel jumps
from thicket;
Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting.
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores
one sorel.
Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.
SIR NATHANIEL
A rare talent!
DULL
[Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws
him with a talent.
HOLOFERNES
This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a
foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures,
shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions,
revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of
memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and
delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the
gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am
thankful for it.
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