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Biron. False ; we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.

Boyet. Therefore as he is an ass, let him go.
An lo adieu, sweet Jude ; nay, why dost thou stay?

Dum. For the latter end of his name...
Biron. For the Ass to the Jude ; give it him. Jud-as,

away. Hl. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur J udas ; it grows dark,

he may stumble. Prin. Alas! poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited !

Enter Armado. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles, here comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector ?
King. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.
Dum. More calf, certain.
Boyet. No; he is best indu'd in the small.
Biron. This can't be Heator.
Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty, Gave Hector a gift,

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Biron. A lemon.
Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum. No, cloven.
Arm. The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion ;
A man fo breath'd, that certain he would fight ye

From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that Flower.

Dum. That mint.
Long. That cullambine.
Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

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