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Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame ? Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady; Monfieur, fare you well.

[Exit. Long. I beseech you a word: what is fhe in white + ? Boyet. She is an heir of Faulconbridge . Long. She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be ||. [Exit Long.

Rof. Alack, let it blood.

Eiron. Would that do it good?

Ref. My phyfic fays, Ay.

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye

Ref. No poynt, with my knife.

Biron. Now, God five thy life!

Ref. And your's from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.
Dum. Sir, &c.

fhe in white?

Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the light.
Long. Perchance light in the light. I defire her name.

If

[Exit.

Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to defire that were a fhame,

Long. Pray you, Sir, whofe daughter?

Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.

Lang. God's bleffing on your beard!

Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended.

She is an, &c.

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Beyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit. Biron.

Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;

Not a word with him but a jeft.

Boyet. And every jeft 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.
Mar. Two hot fheeps, marry.

Boyet, And wherefore not ships?

No fheep, (fweet lamb), unless we feed on your lips.

Mar. You fheep, and I pafture; fhall that finish the jest?

Boyet

If my obfervation, (which very feldom lyes),
By the heart's still rhetoric, difclofed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected *.

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Ref. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest 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?

Boyet. So you grant pafture for me.
Mar. Not fo, gentle beast;

My lips are no common, though feveral they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar. To my fortunes and me.

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

This civil war of wits were much better us'd

On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd.
If my obfervation, &c.

is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected.
Prin. Your reafon?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire:
His heart, like an agat with your print impreffed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expreffed,
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not fee,
Did ftumble with hafte in his eye fight to be:
A fenfes to that fenft did make their repair,
To feel only looking on faireft of fair; -
Methought all his fentes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for fome prince to buy;

Who tend'ring their own wort, from whence they were glass'd,
Did point out to buy them, along as you pafs'd.

His faces' own margent did quo'e fuch amazes,

That all eyes faw his eyes inchanted with gazes i
I'll give you Aquitai, and all that is his,

An' you give him for my fake but one lovi g

kifs.

Pin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyer is dilpos'd

Boyet. But to fpeak that in words which as eye hath disclos'd ;-

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lye,

Rof. Thou art, &c,

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Ref. Ay, our way to be gone.

Boyet. You are too hard for me.

Arm.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

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The park, near the palace.

Enter Armado and Moth.

7Arble, child; make paffionate my fenfe of hearing.

Warble,

Moth. Concolinel

[Singing. Arm. Sweet air! go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the fwain; bring him feftinately hither: I must 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 eye-lids; figh a note and fing a note; fometimes through the throat, as if you fwallow'd love with finging love; fometimes through the nofe, as if you snuff'd up love by fmelling love; with your hat penthoufe like, o'er the fhop of your eyes; with your arms crofs'd on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbet 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 fnip, and away: thefe are 'complishments, thefe are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without thefe, and make them men of note (do you note me?) that are most affected to these?

Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience?
Moth. By my pen of obfervation.

Arm. But O, but O

Moth. The hobby-horfe is forgot *.

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

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

got your

Arm. Almoft I had.

The burthen of an old fong.

Moth.

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 out of, upon the inftant by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, becaufe 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 no, thing at all.

Arm. Fetch hither the fwain, he muft carry me a letter.

Moth. A meffage well fympathiz'd; a horfe to be embaffador for an afs.

Arm. Ha, ha, what say'st thou?

Moth. Marry, Sir, you must fend the afs upon the horfe, 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 of metal heavy, dull, and flow?

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

Moth. You are too swift, Sir, to say so.

Is that lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm. Sweet fmoak of rhetoric!

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 most acute juvenile,voluble, and free of grace; By thy favour, fweet welkin, I must figh in thy face. Moft rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd.

SCENE.

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: bear

and Coftard.

Moth. A wonder, Mafter; here's a Coftard broken in a fhin.
Arm, Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'envsy begin.

Coft. No egina, no riddle, no l'envoy; no faive in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'envy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantan.

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

Mob. 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 follow with my l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble bee,

Were ftill at odds, being bu: 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?
Caft. 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 faft and loofe.

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

Arm. Come hither, come hither;

How did this argument begin?

Moth. By faying, that a Costard 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 goofe that you bought,

And he ended he market.

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

Caft. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth.

I will fpeak 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,

Caff

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