Moth. How mean you, Sir? I pretty, and my | Samson had small reason for it. He, surely, saying apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty? Arm. Thou pretty, because little.

Moth. Little pretty, because littie: Wherefore apt?

Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?
Arm. In thy condign praise.

Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise..

Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious?
Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers:

Thou heatest my blood.

Moth. I am answered, Sir.
Arm. I love not to be crossed.

Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses love not him.

[Aside.

Arm. I have promised to study three years with the duke.

Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir.
Arm. Impossible.

Moth. How many is one thrice told?
Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit
of a tapster.

Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, Sir.

Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a complete man.

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was so, Sir; for she had a green wit. Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours.

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and pathetical!

Moth. If she be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;

For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown:
Then, if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;

For still her cheeks possess the same,
Which native she doth owe.'

A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason
of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

Moth. The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since: but, I think, now 'tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the writing, nor the tune.

Arm. I will have the subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that country Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. girl, that I took in the park with the rational Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three.hind Costard; she deserves well. Arm. True.

[Aside.

Moth. Why, Sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you. Arm. A most fine figure! Moth. To prove you a cypher. Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love: and, as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: What great men have been in love?

Moth. Hercules, master.

Arm. Most sweet Hercules!-More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back, like a porter: and he was in love.

Arm. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too,-Who was Samson's love, my dear Moth?

Moth. A woman, master.

Arm. Of what complexion?

Moth. Ofall the four, or the three, or the two; or one of the four.

Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion?
Moth. Of the sea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, Sir; and the best of them too.

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers: but to have a love of that colour, methinks,

The name of a coin once current.

Moth. To be whipped; and yet a better love than my master. [Aside. Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in

love.

Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.

Arm. I say, sing.

Moth. Forbear till this company be past.

Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA. Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe: and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but a' must fast three days a week: for this damsel, I must keep her at the park; she is allowed for the day-woman.t Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray myself with blushing.Maid.

Jaq. Man.

Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaq. That's hereby.

Arm. I know where it is situate.
Jaq. Lord, how wise you are!
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face?

Arm. I love thee.
Jaq. So I heard you say.
Arm. And so farewell.
Jaq. Fair weather after you!
Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away.

[Exeunt DULL and JAQUENETTA. Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, ere thou be pardoned.

Cost. Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished.
Cost. I am more bound to you, than your
fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.
Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up.
Moth. Come, you transgressing slave; away.
Cost. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will fast,
being loose.

▾ Of which she is naturally possessed.
+ Transgression.

+ Dairy-woman.

Moth. No, Sir; that were fast and loose: | Haste, signify so much; while we attend, thou shalt to prison.

Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall seeMoth. What shall some see?

Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words; and, therefore, I will say nothing: I thank God, I have as little patience as another man; and, therefore, I can be quiet.

Like humbly-visag'd suitors, his high will.
Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go.

[Exit.

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours
is so.-

Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?
1 Lord. Longaville is one.

Prin. Know you the man?

Mar. I know him, madam; at a marriage feast, [Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD. Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir Arm. I do affect the very ground, which is Of Jaques Falconbridge solemnized, base, where her shoe, which is baser, guided In Normandy saw I this Longaville: by her foot, which is basest, doth tread. IA man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd; shall be forsworn, (which is a great argument Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arins: of falsehood,) if I love: And how can that be Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. true love, which is falsely attempted? Love is The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, a familiar: love is a devil: there is no evil (If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,). angel but love. Yet Samson was so tempt- Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will; ed: and he had an excellent strength: yet was Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will Solomon so seduced: and he had a very good still wills [power. wit. Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Her- It should none spare that come within his cules' club, and therefore too much odds for a Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't Spaniard's rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me some extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall turn sonneteer. Devise wit; write pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I-Another part of the same.-A Pa-
vilion and Tents at a distance.

Enter the PRINCESS OF FRANCE, ROSALINE,
MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, and other
Attendants.

Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dear-
est‡ spirits:

Consider who the king your father sends;
To whom he sends; and what's his embassy :
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem;
To parley with the sole inheritor

Of all perfections that a man may owe,

Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitain; a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace,
As nature was in making graces dear,
When she did starve the general world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.
Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though

but mean,

Needs not the painted flourish of your praise;
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues :
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth,
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker,-Good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame

Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor:
Tell him, the daughter of the king of France,
On serious business, craving quick despatch,
Impórtunes personal conference with his grace.
Love. + Arrow to shoot at butts with. Best.

so?

Mar. They say so most, that most his humours know.

Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?

Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accom-
plish'd youth,

Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd:
[ill;
Most power to do most harm, least knowing
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
I saw him at the duke Alençon's once;
And shape to win grace though he had no wit.
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report, to his great worthiness.

Ros. Another of these students at that time,
Was there with him: if I have heard a truth,

Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
For every object that the one doth catch,
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,

That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

That every one her own hath garnished
Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love;
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
Mar. Here comes Boyet.

From reason's yielding, your fair self should make

A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the king my father too much

And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid
King. I do protest, I never heard of it,
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin. We arrest your word :-
Boyet, you can produce acquittances,
For such a sum, from special officers

Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfy me so.

Biron. What's her name, in the cap?

ACT III.

Boyet. Katharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is she wedded, or no?

Boyet. To her will, Sir, or so.

Biron. You are welcome, Sir; adieu!
Boyet. Farewell to me, Sir, and welcome to
you. [Exit BIRON.-Ladies unmask.
Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap
Not a word with him but a jest. [lord;

Boyet. And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at

his word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.

[lips.

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!
Boyet. And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your
Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that
finish the jest?

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.
[Offering to kiss her.
Mar. Not so, gentle beast;
[be.
My lips are no common, though several they
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, agree:

The civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis
abused.

Boyet. If my observation, (which very sel-
dom lies,)
Leyes,
By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle,
affected.

Prin. Your reason?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire

[sire: To the court of his eye, peeping thorough deHis heart, like an agate, with your print pressed,

im

Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair: [eye,
Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where
they were glass'd,

Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving
kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dis-
pos'd-

Boyet. But to speak that in words, which
his eye hath disclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and
speak'st skilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns
news of him.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for
her father is but grim,
Boyet. Do you hear my mad wenches?
Mar. No.

SCENE I-Another part of the same.

Enter ARMADO and MOTH.

Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

Moth. Concolinel

[Singing. Arm. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love.

Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?t

Arm. How mean'st thou? brawling in French? Moth. No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary; to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches-that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note, (do you note, men?) that most are affected to these. Arm. How hast thou purchased this expe

rience?

Moth. By my penny of observation.
Arm. But 0,-but 0,-

Moth. -the hobby-horse is forgot.

Arm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse? Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.
Moth. And out of heart, master: all those
three I will prove.

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.

Arm. I am all these three.

Moth. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.

Arm. Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter.

Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be ambassador for an ass!

Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

Moth. Marry, Sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited: But I go.

Arm. The way is but short; away.
Moth. As swift as lead, Sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
Moth. Mimine, honest master; or rather, mas-

ter, no.
Arm. I say, lead is slow.

Moth. You are too swift, Sir, to say so
Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric!

Boyet. What then, do you see?
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.

Boyet. You are too hard for me.

• A quibble, several signified uninclosed lands.

+A kind of dance.

Canary was the name of a sprightly dance,
Quick, ready.

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's I shoot thee at the swain.

The :Moth. Thump then, and I flee. Exit. Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace!

By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:

Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd.

Re-enter MOTH and COSTARD.

Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard* broken in a shin.

Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come,-thy l'envoy-begin.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, Sir: O, Sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, Sir, but a plantain !

Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word, l'envoy,