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Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant?
Moth.

The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I. (37)

Hol. I will repeat them, a e I
Moth. The sheep; the other two concludes it, o, u.

Arm. Now by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit; snip, snap, quick and home; it rejoiceth my intellect; true wit.

Moth. Offer'd by a child to an old man: which is wit-old.

Hol. What is the figure? what is the figure?
Motb. Horns.
Hol. Thou disputest like an infant; go, whip thy

gigg. Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy (38) circùm circà; a gigg of a cuckold's horn.

Coft. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy ginger-bread ; hold, there is the very remuneration 'I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pidgeon-egg of discretion. O, that the heav'ns were so pleased, that thou wert but my bastard! what a joyful father wouldst thou make me?

go to, thou hast it ad dunghill; at the finger's ends, as they say.

Hol. Oh, I smell false latine, dunghil for unguem.

Arm. Arts-man, præambula ; we will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the chargehouse on the top of the mountain?

Hol. Or, Mons the hill. (37) The last of the five Vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth if I: Hol. I will repeat them, a e I Moth. The Sheep :

the other two concludes it out.] Wonderful Sagacity again ! All the Editions agree in this Reading; but is not the laf, and the fifth, the fame Vowel Tho' my Correction restores but a poor Conundrum, yet if it restores the Poet's Meaning, it is the Duty of an Editor to trace him in his lowest Conceits. By, O, U, Moth would

Oh, You. i. e. You are the Sheep ftill, either way; no Mat. ter, which of Us repeats them.

(38) I will whip about your Infamy unum cita ;] Here again all the Editions give us Jargon instead of Latine, But Moth would certainly fay, circùm circà: i. e. about and about.

Arm.

mean

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Arın. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
Hol. I do, sans question.

Arm. Sir, it is the King's most sweet pleasure and affection, to congratulate the Princess at her Pavilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.

Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous Sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon : the word is well culld, choice, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, Sir, I do assure.

Arm. Sir, the King is a noble gentleman, and my familiar ; I do assure ye, my very good friend; for what is inward between us, let it pass I do befeech thee, remember thy curtefie — I beseech thee, apparel thy head, -- and among other importunate and most serious designs, and of great import indeed too but let that pass:--for I must tell thee, it will please his Grace (by' the world) sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger thus dally with my excrement, with my mustachio; but sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable; some certain special honours it pleaseth his Greatness to impart to Armado, a foldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pass the very all of all is but sweet heart, I do implore secrecy —that the King would have me present the Princess (sweet chuck) with some delightful oftentation, or show, or pageant, or antick, or fire-work. Now, understanding that the Curate and your sweet felf are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking out of mirth, (as it were) I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.

Hol. Sir, you fall present before her the nine Worthies. Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendred by our affiftants at the King's command, and this most gallant, illustrate and learned gentleman, before the Princess: I say, none to fit as to present the nine Worthies.

Nath.

Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?

Hol. Joshua, your self; this gallant man, Judas Macabeus ; this swain (because of his great limb or joint) shall pass Pompey the great; and the page, Hercules.

Arm. Pardon, Sit, error: he is not quantity enough for that Worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of his club.

Hol. Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules in minority: his. Enter and Exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.

Moth. An excellent device: for if any of the au. dience hiss, you may cry;

" well done, Hercules, now “ thou crusheft the snake;" that is the way to make an offence gracious, tho' few have the grace to do it.

Arm. For the rest of the Worthies,
Hol. I will play three my self.
Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!
Arm. Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol. We attend.
Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an Antick.

. I beseech

.
Hol. Via! good-man Dull,' thou hast spoken no word
all this while.

Dull. Nor understood none neither, Sir.
Hol. Allons î we will employ thee.

Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or fo: or I will
play on the taber to the Worthies, and let them dance
the hay.
Hol. Most dull, honest, Dull, to our Sport away.

[Exeunt. SCENE, before the Princess's Pavilion.

Enter Princess, and Ladies.
Prin. Weet hearts, we fhall be rich ere wé depart,

you, follow.

S in.

A lady wall'd abouc with diamonds !
Look you, what I have from the loving King.
Rofa. Madam, came nothing else along with That?

Prin.

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Prin. Nothing but this ? yes, as much love in

rhyme, (39)
As would be cram'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all;
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.

Rofa. That was the way to make his God-head wax, For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

Cath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Rofa. You'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd

your fifter.

out.

Cath. He made her melancholy, sad and heavy, And so she died; had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might have been a grandam ere the dy'd. And so may you; for a light heart lives long. Rofa. What's your dark meaning, moule, of this

light word! Cath. A light condition, in a beauty dark. Roja. We need more light to find your meaning

Cath. You'll marr the light, by taking it in snuff: Therefore I'll darkly end the argument,

Rofa. Look, what you do; and do it still i'th' dark.
Cath. So do not you, for you are a light wench.
Rosa. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light.
Cath. You weigh me not; O, that's, you care not
Rofa. Great reason; for past Cure is still past Care.(40)

Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But, Rosaline, you have a Favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?

for me.

(39)

as much Love in Rhyme, As would be cram'd up in a Sheet of Paper,

Writ on both fides the Leaf, margent and all.] Į dare not affirm This to be an Imitation, but it carries a mighty Resemblance of this Passage in the Beginning of Juvenal's first Satire.

summi plenâ jàm margine libri! Scriptus, & in tergo, nec dùm finitus Orestes.

(40) for past Care is ftill paft Cure.] The Transposition which I have made in the two Words, Care and Cure, is by the Diri&tion of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. The Reason speaks for it self.

Rofa.

Rofa. I would, you knew.' And if my face were but as fair as yours, My favour were as great; be witness this. Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron. The numbers true; and were the numbring too, I were the fairest Goddess on the ground. I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter. Prin. Any thing like? Rosa. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise. Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion. Cath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book. Rosa. Ware pencils. How? let me not die your

debter,
My red dominical, my golden letter.
O, that your face were not so full of Oes!

Cath. Pox of that jest,and I beshrew all shrews: (41)
Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Dumaine ?
Cath. Madam, this glove.
Prin. Did he not send you twain?

Cath. Yes, madam; and moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compild, profound fimplicity,

Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville ; The letter is too long by half a mile.

Prin. I think no less; dost thou not wish in heart, The chain were longer, and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part. Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers for't.

Rofa. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Biron I'll torture, ere I go. O, that I knew he were but in by th' week,

(41) «Prin. Pox of that jeaft, and I befhrew all Shrews. As the Princess has behav'd with great Decency all along hitherto, there is no Reason to be assign'd why she should start all at once into this course Dialect. But I am perswaded, the Editors only have made her go out of Character. In short, Rosaline and Catharine are rallying one another without Reserve; and to Catharine this first Line certainly belong’d, and therefore I have ventur'd once more to put her in Possession of it.

How

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