Very reverend sport, truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

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.

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.

Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

’Twas not a “auld grey doe”, ’twas a pricket.

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.

I said the deer was not a “auld grey doe”, ’twas a pricket.

Dictynna, goodman Dull. Dictynna, goodman Dull.

What is Dictynna?

A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.

’Tis true, indeed. The collusion holds in the exchange.

God comfort thy capacity! I say, th’ allusion holds in the exchange.

And I say the pollution 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.

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.

Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

A rare talent!

[Aside.] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

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.

Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you. You are a good member of the commonwealth.

Mehercle! If their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth us.

God give you good morrow, Master Person.

Master Person, quasi pierce one. And if one should be pierced, which is the one?

Marry, Master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

Of piercing a hogshead! A good lustre or conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine. ’Tis pretty; it is well.

Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter. It was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado. I beseech you read it.

Ay, sir, and very learned.

You find not the apostrophus, and so miss the accent. Let me supervise the canzonet. [He takes the letter.] Here are only numbers ratified, but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man. And why indeed “Naso,” but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you?

Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the strange queen’s lords.

I will overglance the superscript: To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: Your Ladyship’s in all desired employment, Berowne. Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen’s, which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my sweet, deliver this paper into the royal hand of the King. It may concern much. Stay not thy compliment. I forgive thy duty. Adieu.

Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life.

Have with thee, my girl.

Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain Father saith—

Sir, tell not me of the Father, I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Marvellous well for the pen.

I do dine today at the father’s of a certain pupil of mine, where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society.

And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life.

And certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. [To Dull.] Sir, I do invite you too. You shall not say me nay. Pauca verba. Away! The gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.