Imatges de pÓgina

And have the mony by our father lent,
Than Aquitain lo gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests fo far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast;
And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that, which hath fo faithfully been paid.

King. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin. We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfie me so.

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other specialties are bound :
To morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me; at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto :
Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates;
But here, without, you shall be fo receiv'd,

you shall deem your self lodg'd in my heart,
Tho' so deny'd fair harbour in my house:
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel;
To morrow we shall visit you again.
Prin. Sweet health and fair desires confort your

King. Thy own Wilh wish I thee, in every place.


Exit. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.


Rof. I pray you, do my commendations;
I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
Ref. Is the fool fick ?
Biron. Sick at the heart.
Rof. Alack, let it blood.
Biron. Would that do it good?
Rof. My physick says, ay.
Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye?
Rof. No, poynt, with


knife. Biron. Now God fave thy life! Rof. And yours from long living! Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. Exit. Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is thao

same'? Boyet. The heir of Alanson, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady ; Monsieur, fare you well.

[Exit Long. I beseech you, a word: what is the in white? Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the

light. Long. Perchance, light in the light; I desire her Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to defire Thac;

were a shame.
Long. Pray you, Sir, whose daughter
Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's blessing on your beard !

Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Faulconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choller is ended :
She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, Sir ; that may be. (Exit Long.
Biron. What's her name in the cap?
Boyet. Catharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is she wedded, or no?
Boyet. To her will, Sir, or for




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Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu !
Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit Biron. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jeft but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not ships ?
Ņo sheep, (sweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips.
Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish

the jest ?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

Mar. Not so, gentle beast;
My lips are no common, though several they be.

Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Mar. To my fortunes and me.
Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles,

This civil war of wits were much better us'd
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd.

Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies)
By the heart's ftill rhetorick, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected.
Prin. Your reason ?
Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their

To the Court of his eye, peeping thorough desire :
His heart, like an agat with your print impressed,
Proud with his forın, in his eye pride expressed :
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with hafte in his eye-sight to be:


All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on faireft of fair ;
Methought, all his lenses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some Prince to buy ;
Who tendring their own worth, from whence they

were glasst,
Did point out to buy them, along as you past.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes

inchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An' you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos’d-
Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye

hath disclos'd;
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news

of him.
Rof. Then was Venus like her mother, for her fa-

ther is but grim.
Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?
Mar. No.
Boyet. What then, do you see?
Rof. Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet. You are too hard for me. [Exeunt.

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The Park; near the Palace.

Enter Armado and Moth.

Arm. Warble, child; make paffionate my sense of

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Moth. Concolinel

[Singing Arm. Sweet Air! go, tenderness of years; take this key, give inlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither : I must employ him in a letter to

Moth. Master, will


love with a French brawl?

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

Moth. No, my compleat master ; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids ; sigh a note and sing a note ; sometimes through the throat, as if you swallow'd love with finging love; sometimes through the nose, as if you snuft up love by smelling love ; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms croft on your thinbelly 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 snip and away: these are 'complishments, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, and make them men of note (do you note me?) that are most affected to these?

Arm. How halt thou purchas'd this experience ?
Moth. By my pen of observation.

Arm. But O, but o
Moth. The hobby-horse is forgot,


1 these are coMPLEMENTS.] We should read, 'COMPLISHMENTS, i. r. accomphshments,

2 Arm. But o, but o

Moth. The Hobby-horse is forgot.] In the celebration of Mayday, befides the sports now usd of hanging a pole with garlands, and dancing round it, formerly a boy was dreft up representing Maid Marian ; another, like a Frjar ; and another rode on a Hobby-horse, with bells jingling, and painted streamers. After the reformation took place, and Precisans multiplied, these latter rites were lookd upon to favour of paganism; and then maid Marian, the fryer, and the poor Hobby-borse, were tura'd out


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