SCENE

II. Re-enter Moth and Coftard *.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, fet thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this :

-and Coftard.

Moth. A wonder, Master; here's a Coftard broken in a fhin. Arm. Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'envoy begin. Coft. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no falve in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantan.

Arm. By virtue, thou enforceft laughter; thy filly thought, my fpleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous fmiling: O pardon me, my ftars! doth the inconfiderate take falve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for a falve?

Moth. Doth the wife think them other? is not l'envoy a falve? Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain Some obfcure precedence that hath tofore been fain.

I will example it. Now will I begin your moral, and do you 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.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy; fay 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,

And stay'd the odds by adding four.

A good P envoy, ending in the goofe; would you desire more? Coft. The boy hath fold him a bargain; a goofe, that's flat;

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an' your goofe be fat.

To fell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.

Let me fee a fat l'envoy; I, that's a fat goofe.

Arm. Come hither, come hither;

How did this argument begin?

Moth. By faying, that a Coftard was broken in a shin,

Then call'd you for a l' envoy.

Coft. True, and I for a plantan ;

Thus came the argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought,

And he ended the market.

fol

Arm. But tell me, how was there a Coftard broken in a fhin? Moth. I will tell you fenfibly.

Coft. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth.

I will speak that l'envoy.

Coftard running out, that was fafely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my fhin.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.

165 bear this fignificant to the country-maid Jaquenetta ; there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.

[Exit. Moth. Like the fequel, I. Signior Coftard, adieu ! [Exit. Coft. My fweet ounce of man's flefh, 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.

Biron. O my good knave Coftard, exceedingly well

met.

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

Biron. What is a remuneration?

Coft. 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, flave, I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave, Do one thing for me that I fhall intreat. Coft. When would you have it done, Sir? Biron. O, this afternoon.

you

well.

Coft. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare
Biron. O, thou knoweft not what it is.
Coft. I fhall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

Coft. Till there be more matter in the shin.

Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchise thee.

Coft. O, marry me to one Francis; I smell some l'envoy, fome goofe in this.

Arm. By my fweet foul, I mean, fetting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy perfon; thou wert immur'd, restrained, captivated,

bound.

Coft. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loofe.

Arm. I give, &c.

Coft. I will come to your Worship to-morrow morning. Biron. It must be done this afternoon.

Hark, flave, it is but this:

The Princefs comes to hunt here in the park:

And in her train there is a gentle lady;

When tongues fpeak fweetly, then they name her name,
And Rofaline they call her; afk for her,

And to her fweet hand fee thou do commend
This feal'd-up counfel. There's thy guerdon; go.

Coft. Guerdon,O fweet guerdon! better than remuneration, eleven pence farthing better: moft sweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuperation.[Exit.

Biron. O! and I, forfooth, in love!
I, that have been love's whip;
A very beadle to a humourous figh;
A critic; nay, a night-watch conftable;
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-rhimes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed fovereign of fighs and groans:
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents:
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 feek 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 ftill go right!
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all:
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls ftuck 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 Cupid will impofe for my neglect

Of his almighty, dreadful, little might.

Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue, and grone : Some men muft love my Lady, and fome Joan. [Exit.

ACT IV. SCENE

A pavilion in the park near the palace.

I.

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords, attendants, and a Forefter.

Prin. WAS that the King that spurr'd his horse so

hard

Against the steep uprifing of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he fhew'd a mounting mind.
Well, Lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

Then, Forefter, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must ftand and play the murderer in?

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

the fairest shoot.

Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that shoot:
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, Madam; for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what? firft praise me, then again fay, no?
O fhort-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo!
For. Yes, Madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;

Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glafs, take this for telling true;
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, fee, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefy is fair, fit for thefe days!

A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise.
But come, the bow; now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I fave 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, meant to kill.

Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth†. Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron, to one Lady Rofaline.

Prin. O thy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.

Stand afide, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve :
Break up this capon *.

Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

This letter is miftook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I fwear.

Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet reads.

rheaven, 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

And, out of question, so it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted crimes;

When for fame's fake, for praife, an outward part,

We bend to that the working of the heart.

As I for praise alone now feek to spill

The poor

deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

Boyet. Do not curs'd wives hold that self-sovereignty Only for praife-fake, when they strive to be

Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praife; and praise we may afford

To any lady that fubdues her lord.

Coft. God dig you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the reft that have no heads.

Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ?

Prin. The thickest and the tallest.

Coft. The thickest and the talleft; it is fo, truth is truth.

An' my waste, mistress, were as flender as your wit,

One o' these maids girdles for my waste should be fit.

Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.
Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will!

Coft. I have, &c.

Meaning the letter, as poulet in French signifies both a chicken

and a love-letter.