Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

dear imp.

SCENE changes to Armado's house.

Enter Armado, and Moth.
Arm. OY, what is it, when a man of great fpirit

grows melancholy?
Moth. A great sign, Sir, that he will look fad.
Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-fame thing,
Moth. No, no; O lord, Sir, no.

Arm. How can'ít thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender Juvenile ?

Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough Signior.

Arm. Why, tough Signior? why, tough Signior?
Moth. Why, tender Juvenile? why, tender Juvenile?

Arm. I spoke it tender Juvenile, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.

Moth. And I tough Signior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough.

Arm. Pretty and apt.

Moth. How mean you, Sir, I pretty, and, my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty ?

Arm. Thou pretty, because little.
Moth. Little! pretty, because little; wherefore apt?
Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth. Speak you this in my praise, masters
Arm. In thy condign praise.
Moth. I will praise

an eel with the same praise.
Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious.
Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers. Thou heatit

my

blood.
Moth. I am answer'd, Sir.
Arm. I love not to be croit.
Moth. He speaks the clean contrary, crosses love not him.
Arm. I have promis'd to study three years with the King.
Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir.
Arm. Impossible.

Moth.

[ocr errors]

Moth. How many is one thrice told ?
Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the fpirit of a tapster,
Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamefter.

Arm. I confefs both; they are both the varnish of a. compleat man.

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the: grofs sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth. Which the base vulgar call, three.
Arm. True.

Moth. Why, Sir, is, this such a piece of study ? now. here's three studied ere you'll thrice wink; ard how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study tiiree years » in two words, the dancing-horse will tell you.

Arm. A most fine figure.
Moth. To prove you a cypher.

Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love ; and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in dlove with a base wench. If dra:ving my sword againit the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner; -and ranfom him to any French courtier for a new devis'd curt'fy. I think it scorn to sigh ; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy, what great men have been in love ?

Moth. Hercules, master.

Aim. Most sweet Hercules! more authority, dear boy, . name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Sampson, master; he was a man of good carriage ; great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love.

Arm. O well-knit Sampson, strong-jointed Sampson !
I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst.
me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was
Sampson's love, my dear Moth ?

Moth. A woman, master.
Arm. Of what complection?

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four. Arm. Tell me precisely of what complection?

Moth,

pretty and

Moth. Of the sea-water green, Sir.
Arm. Is that one of the four complections ?
Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too,

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers ; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was so, Sir, for she had a green wit.
Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under such colours.

Arm. Define, definè, well-educated infant.
Moth. My father's wit and my mother's tongue afist me!

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, most
pathetical !
Moth. If she be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known; For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,

And fears by pale-white shown ; Then if the fear, or be to blame,

By this you shall not know ; For still her cheeks possess the same,

Which native she doth owe. A dangerous rhime, master, against the reason of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

Moth. The world was guilty of such a ballad fome three

ages fince, but I think, now. 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither serve for the writing, nor the tune.

Arm. I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Costard; she deserves well

Moth. To be whipp'd ; and yet a better love than my master.

Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
Arm. I say, sing.
Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is paft.

Enter

[ocr errors]

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid. Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is that you keep Costard safe, and

you

must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must fast three days a week, For this damsel, I must keep her at the park, she is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray myself with blushing: maid,
Jaq. Man,
Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaq. That's here by.
Arm. I know, where it is situate.
Jaq. Lord, how wise you are !
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face?
Arm. I love thee.
Jaq. So I heard you fay.
Arm. And so farewel.
Jaq. Fair weather after you !
Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. (7)

Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offence, ere thou be pardoned.

Coft. Well, Sir, I hope when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

Coft. I am more bound to you, than your followers; for they are but lightly rewarded.

Arm. Take away this villain, shut him up.
Moth. Come, you transgressing flave, away.
Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will fast,being loose.

Moth. No, Sir, that were fast and loose; thou shalt to prison.

(7) Maid. Fair Wrather after you. Come Jaquenetta, away.] Thus all the printed copies: but the editors have been guilty of much inad. vertence. They make Jaquenetta, and a maid enter : whereas Ja. quenetta is the only maid intended by the poet, and who is committed to the custody of Duil, to be convey'd by him to the lodge in the park. This being the case, it is evident to demonstration, that-Fair weather after you must be spoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull says to her, come Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the text.

Coft.

[ocr errors]

Coft. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of defolation that I have seen, some fhall see

Moth. What shall fome see?

Coft. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be filent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing ; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet.

[Exeunt Moth with Coftard. Ārm. I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoe (which is baser) guided by her foot (which is baseft) doth tread. I fall be försworn, which is a great argument of falshood, if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falfly attempted ? love is a familiar, love is a devil; there is no evil angel but love, yet Sampson was fo tempted, and he had an excellent strength ; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-1haft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and second cause will not serve my turn; the Pasado he respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour; rust, rapier ; be itill, drum ; for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Aflift me, some extemporal god of rhime, for I am sure, I fall turn fonnet. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

[Exeunt.

a

a

ACT II. SCENE, before the King of Navarre's Palace. Enter the Princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Catha

rine, Boyet, Lords and other Attendants.

BOY ET.
OW, madam, summon up your dearest spirits;

fends

To whom he sends, and what's his embally,

Yourself,

« AnteriorContinua »