Imatges de pÓgina
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SCENE VIII.

Changes to Armado's House.

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Enter Armado, and Moth. Arm.

OY, what sign is it, when a man of great

spirit grows melancholy? Moth. A great sign, Sir, that he will look fad.

Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-fame thing, dear imp: - Moth. No, no; O lord, Sir, no.

Arm. How can'lt 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 Juve. nile?

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 fay, ing apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty ?

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

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dear Imp.} Imp was or abhorrence ; perhaps in our anciently, a term of dignity. Lord authour's time it was ambiguous Cromwel in his last letter to Hen- in which state it suits well within ry VIII. prays for the imp his fon. this dialogue. It is now uled only in contempt

Morb.

Moth. I will praise' án eel with the fame praise.
Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious.
Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers. Thou heat'st my blood,

Moth. I am answer’d, Sir.
Arm. I love not to be croft.

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. How many is one thrice told ?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit of a tapiter. Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester.

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

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of duce-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; and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three

years in iwo 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 I am in love with a base wènch. If drawing my sword against the hu

crobes love not him.] to Celia, if I should bear you, I By croses be means money. So Bould bear no cross, in As you like it, the Clorun fays

mour

mour of affection would deliver me from the reprobare thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner; and ranfom him to any French courtier for a new-devis'd curt'sy. I think it scorn to figh; methinks, I should out-fwear Cupid. Comfort me, boy; what great men have been in love?

Moth. Hercules, master.

Arm. 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 didit me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampson's love, my dear Moth ?

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

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.

Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion ?
Moth. Of the sea-water green, Sir.
Arm. Is that one of the four complexions ?
Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too.

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; bur 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, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, affist me!

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical!

Moth.

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 she fear, or be to blame,

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

Which native the 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 some three ages since, 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 digrellion by fome mighty preces dent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Cotard; Die 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 fay, sing.
Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is paft.

SCENE IV.

Enter Costard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid. Dul, 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.

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Arm. I do betray myself with blushing; maid,
Jag. 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
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face?
Arm. I love theè.
Jaq. So I heard you say.
Arm. And so farewel.
Faq. Fair' weather after you!
Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away!

(Exeunt Dull and Jaqueñetta. Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offence, eré thou be pardoned.

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

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punishd.

Cost. 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 slave, away.

Cost. Let me not be pent up, Sir ; I will fast, being loose.

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

3 Maid. Fair weather after Weather after you must be you. Come, Jaquenetta, away. ] spoken by Jaquenetta; and then Thus all the printed Copies : but that Dull lays to her, Come Jathe Editors have been guilty of quenetta, away, as I have regumuch Inadvertence. They make lated the Text. THEOBALD. Jaquenetta, and a Maid enter; Mr. Theobald has endeavoured whereas Jaquenctia is the only here to dignify his own industry Maid intended by the Poet, and by a very flight performance. is committed to the Custody The folios all read as he reads, of Dull, to be conveyed by him except that instead of naming to the Lodge in the Park. This the persons they give their chabeing the Cafe, it is evident to racters, enter Clown, Conftable, Demonstration, that Fair and Wench.

Coft.

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