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SCENE II. Re-enter Moth and Costard. * Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this:

bear

and Costard. Moth. A wonder, Master; here's a Coftard broken in a shin. Arm. Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'envoy begin.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no falve in the mail, Sir. O Sir, plantain, a plain plantain ; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantan.

Arm. By virtue, thou enforceft laughter; thy Glly thought, my (pleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O pardon me, my Itars! doth the inconsiderate take salve for I've voy, and the word l'envoy for a salve? Moth. Doth the wise think then other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain
Some obfcure precedence that hath tofore been saio.
I will example it. Now will I begin your moral, and do you fol-

low with my l'envoy.
The fox, the ape, and the humble bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral, now the l'envoy.

Muth. I will add the l'envoy; tay the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble bee,
Were ftill at odds, being but three.

Moth. Until the goofe came out of door,
Aod ftay'd the odds by adding four.
A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; would you desire more!

Cost. The boy hath fold him a bargain; a goose, that's fiat;
Sir, your pennyworth is good, an' your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose,
Let me see a fat l'envoy; I, that's a fat goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither;
How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying, that a Costard was broken in a hin.
Then call'd you for a l'envoy.

Coft. True, and I for a plantain;
Thus came the argument in;
Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought,
And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me, how was there a Costard broken in a fhin ?
Moth. I will tell you sensibly. —

Cost. 'Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth.
I will speak that l'envoy.-
I, Costard, running out, that was fafely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my ihin.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.

Cof.

[Exit.

bear this fignificaat to the country-maid Jaquenetta; there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu!

[Exit. Coft. My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony jewel! Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings! three farthings, remuneration. What's the price of this incle? a penny:

No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it. Remuneration !--why, it is a fairer name than a French crown. I will never buy and fell out of this word.

SCENE III. Enter Biron. Biron. O my good krave Coftard, exceedingly well met.

Coft. Pray you, Sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?

Biron. What is a remuneration?
Cof. Marry, Sir, half-penny farthing.
Biron. O, why then three farthings worth of filk.
Coft. I thank your Worship, God be with you

Biron. O ftay, slave, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall intreat.

Goft. When would you have it done, Sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.
Coft. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knoweft not what it is.
Coft. I shall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

Cofl

. Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchise thee. Coft. O, marry me to one Frances; I smell fome ľ

envoy,

some Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, fetting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy perfon; thou wert immur’d, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give, &c.

goose in this.

[Exit.

Coft. I will come to your Worship to-morrow morning.

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this: The Princess comes to hunt here in the park: And in her train there is a gentle lady; When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her; ask for her, And to her sweet hand see thou do commend This feal'd-up counsel. There's thy gueidun; go.

Coft. Guerdon,---O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration, eleven pence farthing better: moft swett guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.

Biron. O! and I, forsooth, in love!
I, that have been love's whip;
A
very

beadle to a humorous sigh:
A critic; nay, a night-watch conitable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal more magnificent,
This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This Signior Junio's giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed fovereign of sighs and groans:
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents:
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces:
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting parators: (O my little heart!)
And I to be a corporal of his file,
And wear his colours! like a tumbler, stoop!
What? I love! I fue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd, that it may

still
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is work of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes ;
Ay, and by Heav'n, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard;
And I to figh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! go to :-it is a plague,

That

go right!

That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty, dreadful, little, might.
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue, and groan:
Some men must love my Lady, and some Joan. [Exito

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A pavilion in the park near the palace. Enter the Prince's, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords,

at:endants, cnd a Foresiır.

Was that the King that spur'd his horse

Prin. AS

his horse fo hard Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.

Prin. Whoe'er he was, he shew'd a mounting mind. Well, Lords, to-day we hall have our dispatch ; On Saturday we will return to France. Then, Forester, my friend, where is the bush, That we muit iland and play the murderer in?

For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand, where you may make the faireft shoot *

Boyet. the fairelt toot. Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that 'shoot; And thereupon thou speak'ıt the faireft hoor.

For. Pardon me, Madam; for I meant not fo.

Prin. What, what? first praise me, then again fay, no? O short liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo!

For. Yes, Madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise canno: niend the brow.
Here, good ny glass, take this for telling true;
Fair payment for foul words is more thin due.

For. Nothing bu fair is tha: which you inherite

Prin See, see, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
Bui come, the buw; now niercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding. pity would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to fhew my skill;
That more for praise, than purpose, neant to killy

And,

Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth t. Goft. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron, to one La

dy Rosaline. Prin. Othy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of

mine, Stand aside, good bearer. -Boyet, you can carve: Break

up

this capon *.
Boyet, I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaqnenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet reads. Br heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous : truth itself, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself; have commiferation on thy heroical

vasal
And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted crimes;
When for fane's fake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

Boyet. Do not curs'd wives hold that self-lovereignty
Only for praise-fake, when they (trive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise; and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues her lord.

Enter Costard. Boyet. Here comes, &c. + commonwealth,

Cof. God dig you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin The thickest and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest and the tallest; it is so, truth is truth.
An' my waste, mistress, were as flender as your wit,
One o' these maids girdles for my walte should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickelt here.

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will!
Cost. I have, &c.

Meaning the letter, as poulet in French fignifies both a chicken and'a love-letter,

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