Page:Love's Labour's Lost (1925) Yale.djvu/110

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the combat? What mean you? you will lose

your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I

will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath

made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Ber. What reason have you for 't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no

shirt. I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in Rome

for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he

wore none but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's, and

that a' wears next his heart for a favour.

Mar. God save you, madam!

Prin. Welcome, Marcade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Mar. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring

Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—

Prin. Dead, for my life!

Mar. Even so: my tale is told.

Ber. Worthies, away! The scene begins to

cloud.

Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath.

I have seen the day of wrong through the little

hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a

soldier.

King. How fares your majesty?

Prin. Boyet, prepare: I will away to-night.

King. Madam, not so: I do beseech you, stay.

Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,

 716 woolward: i.e. with wool, instead of linen, next to the skin

732 hole of discretion; cf. n.

