Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and fpeak skilfully: Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Rof. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches ?

Mar. No.

Boyet. What then? do you fee?
Rof. Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet. You are too hard for me.

Arm.

ACT III. SCENE I.

The PAR K.

Enter Armado and Moth.

SONG.

[Exeunt.

Warble, child, make paffionate my sense of

hearing.

Moth. Concolinel

[Singing. Arm. Sweet air! go, tenderness of years; take this key, give inlargement to the fwain; bring him feftinately hither: I muft employ him in a letter to my love.

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

Arm. How mean'ft thou, brawling in French?

Moth. No, my compleat mafter, but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; figh a note and fing a note, fometimes through the throat, as if you fwallow'd love with finging love; fometime through the nofe, as if you snuft up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the fhop of your eyes; with your arms croft on your thinbelly doublet, like a rabbet on a fpit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a fnip and away: these are

I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

And you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.

Prin Come to our pavilion, Boyet is dispos'd

Boyet. But to fpeak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd; 1 only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Rof. Thou art, &,

'complishments

'complishments, these are humours, these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without thefe, and make them men of note, (do you note me?) that moft are affected to these.

Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience?

Moth. By my penny of observation.

Arm. But O, but O

Moth. The bobby-borfe is forgot.*

Arm. Call'st thou my love a hobby-horse?

Moth. No, mafter; the hobby-horfe is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney: but have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almoft I had.

Moth. Negligent ftudent! learn her by heart.

Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

:

Moth. And out of heart, mafter all thofe three I will prove.

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live; And this by, in, and out of, upon the inftant: 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 fwain, he muft carry me a letter. Moth. A meffage well sympathiz'd; a horfe to be embaffador for an afs. [Afide.

Arm. Ha, ha; what fay'ft thou?

Moth. Marry, Sir, you must fend the afs upon the horse,

for he is very flow-gated: but I go.

Arm. The way is but fhort; away.

Moth. As fwift as lead, Sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?

Is not lead a metal heavy, dull and flow?

Moth. Minimè, honeft mafter, or rather, mafter, no, Arm. I fay, lead is flow.

Moth. You are too fwift, Sir, to fay so.

♦ The burthen of an old fong.

Is that lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun?

Arm. Sweet fmoak of rhetorick!

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
I fhoot thee at the fwain.

Moth. Thump then, and I fly.

[Exit.

"}

Arm. A moft acute Juvenile, voluble and free of grace; By thy favour, sweet welkin, I muft figh in thy face. Moft rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd.

SCENE II. Enter Moth and Coftard.* I give thee thy liberty, fet thee from durance, and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this; bear this

.....

and Coftard.

Moth. A wonder, mafter, here's a Coflard broken in a fhin. Arm. Some enigna, 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 inforceft laughter, thy filly thought, my Spleen, the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous fmiling: O pardon me, my ftars! doth the inconfiderate take falve for l'ev, and the word l'envoy for a falve?

Moth. Do the wife think them other, is not l'envoy a falve?

Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or difcourfe, to make plain Some obfcure precedence that hath tofore been fain.

I will example it. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Were ftill 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 ftay'd the odds by adding four.

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

Sir, your penny-worth is good, an your goofe be fat.

To fell a bargain well is as cunning as faft 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 Cotard was broken in a fhin.

Then call'd you for a l'envoy.

Caft. True, and I for a plantan ;

Thus came your 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 Coftard broken in a shin? Meth. I will tell you fenfibly.

fignificant to the country-maid Jaquenetta; there is remuneration; for the beft ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow,fExit, Moth. Like the fequel, I. Signior Coftard, adieu ! [Exit. Coft. My fweet ounce of man's flesh, my ink-horn, adieu! now will I look to his remuneration. Remunera tion, 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 Frenchcrown. I will never buy and fell out of this word.

SCENE III. Enter Biron.

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. Oftay, flave, I muft 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.

Coft. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare

you

Biron. O, thou knoweft not what it is.

well.

Coft. I fhall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.
Coft. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.
Coff. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth,
I will speak that l'envoy.

I Coftard running out, that was fafely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my fhin.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cof. 'Till there be more matter in this fhin.
Arm. Sirrah, Cotard, I will infranchise thee.

Cof. O marry me to one Francis, I fmell fome Penvoy, some goofe in this.

Arm. By my fweet foul, I mean, fetting thee at liberty. Enfree doming thy perfon; thou wert immur'd, reftrained, captivated, bound.

Coft. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loofe. Arm. I give, &i.

Biron. It must be done this afternoon.

Hark, flave, 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 fweetly, then they name her name,
And Rofaline they call her; afk for her,

And to her white 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: most sweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon,

Biron, O! and I,

- remuneration.—

Forfooth, in love! I that have been love's whip;
A very beadle to an amorous figh;

A critick; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,

Than whom no mortal more magnificent.

This whimp'ring, whining, purblind wayward boy,
This fenior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed Sovereign of fighs and groans:
Liege of all loyterers 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's hoop!
What? I love! I fue! what? 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,
Tho' Argus were her eunuch and her guard;
And I to figh for her! to watch for her!

[Exit,

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