BEROWNE. Art thou one of the Worthies? COSTARD. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great. For mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him. BEROWNE. Go bid them prepare. COSTARD. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [_Exit Costard._] KING. Berowne, they will shame us. Let them not approach. BEROWNE. We are shame-proof, my lord, and ’tis some policy To have one show worse than the King’s and his company. KING. I say they shall not come. PRINCESS. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now. That sport best pleases that doth least know how, Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of that which it presents; Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth. BEROWNE. A right description of our sport, my lord. Enter Armado, the Braggart. ARMADO. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. [_Armado and King talk apart._] PRINCESS. Doth this man serve God? BEROWNE. Why ask you? PRINCESS. He speaks not like a man of God his making. ARMADO. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain, too, too vain. But we will put it, as they say, to _fortuna de la guerra_. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [_Exit._] KING. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus. _And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits and present the other five._ BEROWNE. There is five in the first show. KING. You are deceived. ’Tis not so. BEROWNE. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy. Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein. KING. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. Enter Costard as Pompey. COSTARD. _I Pompey am_— BEROWNE. You lie, you are not he. COSTARD. _I Pompey am_— BOYET. With leopard’s head on knee. BEROWNE. Well said, old mocker. I must needs be friends with thee. COSTARD. _I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big._ DUMAINE. The “Great”. COSTARD. It is “Great”, sir; _Pompey surnamed the Great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat. And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance, And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France._ If your ladyship would say, “Thanks, Pompey”, I had done. PRINCESS. Great thanks, great Pompey. COSTARD. ’Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in “Great”. BEROWNE. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy. Enter Nathaniel, the Curate, for Alexander.