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 G.o.d 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 b.u.t.ton 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. G.o.d saue you Madame
Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment