BEROWNE. First, from the park let us conduct them thither. Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masques, and merry hours Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. KING. Away, away! No time shall be omitted That will betime and may by us be fitted. BEROWNE. _Allons! allons!_ Sowed cockle reaped no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure. Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. [_Exeunt._] ACT V SCENE I. The King of Navarre’s park Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel and Dull. HOLOFERNES. _Satis quod sufficit._ NATHANIEL. I praise God for you, sir. Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious, pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this _quondam_ day with a companion of the King’s, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado. HOLOFERNES. _Novi hominem tanquam te._ His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it. NATHANIEL. A most singular and choice epithet. [_Draws out his table-book._] HOLOFERNES. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions, such rackers of orthography, as to speak “dout” _sine_ “b”, when he should say “doubt”, “det” when he should pronounce “debt”—_d, e, b, t_, not _d, e, t_. He clepeth a calf “cauf”, half “hauf”; neighbour _vocatur_ “nebour”, neigh abbreviated “ne”. This is abhominable, which he would call “abominable”. It insinuateth me of insanie. _Ne intelligis, domine?_ To make frantic, lunatic. NATHANIEL. _Laus Deo, bone intelligo._ HOLOFERNES. _Bone? Bone_ for _bene?_ Priscian a little scratched; ’twill serve. Enter Armado, Moth and Costard. NATHANIEL. _Videsne quis venit?_ HOLOFERNES. _Video, et gaudeo._ ARMADO. _Chirrah!_ HOLOFERNES. _Quare_ “chirrah”, not “sirrah”? ARMADO. Men of peace, well encountered. HOLOFERNES. Most military sir, salutation. MOTH. [_Aside to Costard_.] They have been at a great feast of languages and stolen the scraps. COSTARD. O, they have lived long on the almsbasket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as _honorificabilitudinitatibus_. Thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon. MOTH. Peace! The peal begins. ARMADO. [_To Holofernes_.] Monsieur, are you not lettered? MOTH. Yes, yes, he teaches boys the hornbook. What is _a, b_, spelt backward with the horn on his head? HOLOFERNES. _Ba, pueritia_, with a horn added.