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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 Costard, adieu !
[Exit. Coft. My sweet ounce of man's flesh, 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.
S CE N E 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 ?
Biron. O stay, flave, I must employ thee:
Cost. When would you have it done, Sir?
Coft. Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty; enfrees
. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose, Arm. I give, &c.
Coft. I will come to your Worship to-morrow morning.
Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, 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 sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her; ask for her, And to her sweet hand see thou do commend This feald-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
Coft. Guerdon, Osweet guerdon ! better than remuneration, elevenpence farthing better : most sweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.
[Exit. Biron. O! and I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; А
very beadle to a humorous sigh : A critic; nay, a night-watch constable ; 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 still 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 stuck 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 impose for my neglect
C Ε Ν Ε
A pavilion in the park near the palace. Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords,
attendants, and a Forefter. Prin. A S that the King that spurr'd his horse
so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill ? Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he shew'd a mounting mind. Well, Lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch; On Saturday we will return to France. Then, Forester, my friend, where is the bush, That we must stand and play the murderer in ?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand, where you may make the faireit shoot *.
the faireft shoot. Prin. I thank my beanty, I am fair, that shoot : And thereupon thou speak'at the fairert Thoot.
For, Pardon me, Madam ; for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what? first praise me, then again say, no? O short-liv'd pride ! not fair ? alack, 'for wo!
For. Yes, Madam, fair,
Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealtht. Cojt. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one
Lady Rosaline. Prin. Othy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend
of mine, Stand aside, good bearer. -Boyet, you can carve : Break
Prin. We will read it, I swear.
Br heaven, 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 sometimes ;
Boyet. Do not curs’d wives hold that self-sovereignty
Prin. Only for praise ; and praise we may afford
Enter Costard. Boyet. Here comes, &c. +
Coft. The thickest and the tallest; it is so, truth is truih.
Prin. What's your will, Sir! what's your will!
* Meaning the letter, as poulet in French fignifies both a chicken and a love-letter, 2
valad. vafal. The magnanimous and most i!!ulrate King Cophetila sat eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that inight rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (o base and obfcure vulgar!), videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame : he came, one ; faw, two; overcanie, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to fee. Wly did he see? to overcome. To whom came he ? to the beggar. What saw he ? the beggar. Who overcame he? the beggar. The conclufion is viétory: on whole fide ? the King's; the captive is inrich’d: on whore side the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? the King's: no, on both in oné, or one in bath. I am the King, (for so stands the comparison); thou the beggar, for Yo witneseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I
niay'. Shall I inforce thy love? I could. Shall I intreat thy love? I will. IVhat malt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles: for thyself ? me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on the picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado. Thus dolt thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standelt as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play. But if thou strive, (poor soul), what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den. Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this
letter? What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear
better? Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it ere
while. Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here
in court, A phantafm, a monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince, and his book-mates.
Prin. Thou, fellow, a word: