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.