Imatges de pÓgina

Boyet. And wherefore not ships!
No theep, (fweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips.

Mar, You Theep, and I pafture; shall that finish the jest ?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

Mar. Not fo, gentle beaft ;
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, agree.
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 lyes) 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 intide affected. :
Prin. Your reason?

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 impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed :
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not fee,
Did stumble with halte in his eye-light to be:
All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair;
Methought, all his fenses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some Prince to buy;
Who tendring their own worth, from whence they were

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 do
Boret. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath

I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lye,
Vol. II.



RofThou art an old love-monger, and speakest kilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Ref. 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? Ros, Ay, our way to be gone. # Boyet. You are too hard for me. (8) [Exeunt.

SCENE the Park; near the Palace.

Enter Armado and Moth.

drm. W hearing

Arble, child; make passionate my fenfe of

Moth. Concolinel

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

Moth. Mafter, will you win your love with a Frencbo brawl ?

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

(8) Boyet. You are too bard for me.) Here, in all the Books, the second A& is made to end : but in my Opinion very mistakenly. I have ventur'd to vary the Regulation of the four last Acts from the printed Copies, for these Reasons. Hitherto, the second Act has been of the Extent of seven Pages; the third but of five; and the fifth of no less than twenty-nine. And this Disproportion of Length has crouded too many incidents into some A&ts, and left the others quite barren. I have now reduced them into a much better Equality; and distributed the Business likewife, (Tuch as it is,) into a more vniform Carte

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Moth. No, my compleat'mafter (9); but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humoar it with turning up your eyelids; figh a note and fing å note;, sometimes through the throat, as if you swallow'd love with finging love; fometimes 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 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 snip and away : these are compliments, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, and make the men of note (10): do you, note men, that are most affected to these?

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

Arm. But O, but O.
Moth. The hobby-horse is forgot. (11)


%99 Moth. No, my compleat Mafler, &c.] This whole Speech has been so terribly confused in the Pointing, through alf the Editisna hitherto; that not the least glimmering of Sense was to be pick'd out of it. As I have regulated the Passage, I think, Morb delivers both good Sense and good Humour, (10)

these betray nice Wenches, that would be betray'd witb.. out these, and make them Men of Note.] Thus all the Editors, with a Sagacity worthy of Wonder, But who will ever believe, that the odd Attitudes and Affectations of Lovers, by which they betray young Wenches, should have power to make those young Wenches Men of Note? This is a: Transformation, which, 1 dara ay, the Poet never thought of His Meaning is, that they not only inveigle the young Girls, but make the. Men taken pozice of toos who affect them, qe ti į 309, (11) Arm. But Os but. Oraingoan;

Moth. The Hobby-horse is forgot.) The Humour of this Reply of Moth's to Armado, who is tighing in Love, cannot be taken without a little Explanation; nor why there should be any room for making such a Reply. In the Rites formerly observ'd for the Celebration of Mey-day, besides those now us’d of hange

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your love ?

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

Motb. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney; but have you forgot

Arm. Almost I had.
Moth. Negligent ftudent, 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?

Motb. A man, if I live: And this by, in, and out of, upon the instant : by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you love her, because


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.

Ārm. Fetch hither the swain, he must carry me a letter.

Moth. A message well sympathis'd; a horse to be embassador for an afs.

Arm. Ha, ha; what fay'st thou?

Moth. Marry, Sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very flow-gated: but I go.

irig a Pole with Garlands, and dancing round it, a Boy was dreft up representing Maid Marian ; another, like a Friar; and anoiher rode on a Hobby-borfe, with Bells jingling, and painted Streamers. After the Reformation took place, and Precifrans multiplied, these latter Rites were look'd upon to favour of Paganism; and then Maid Marian, the Friar, and the poor Hobby. borje were turn'd out of the Games. Some, who were not so wisely precise, but re. gretted the Disuse of the Hobby-borse, no doubt, satiriz'd this Suspicion of Idola ry, and archly wrote the Epitaph above alluded

Now Morb, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out, But oh! but ob! -humorously pieces out his Exclamation with the Sequel of this Epitaph: which is putting his. Master's LovePalion, and the Loss of the Hobby-borse, on a Footing.



Arm. The way is but short; away.
Moth. As swift as lead, Sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull and flow?

Moth. Minimè, honeft master; or rather, maser, ne.
Arm. I say, lead is flow.

Moh. You are too swift, Sir, to say fo.
Is that cad flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun?

Ar. Sweet lines of rhetorick!
He repures me a canuon; and the bullet, that's he:
I shoot thee at tiie swain.
Mcih. Thump ther, and I'fly.

Arn. A molt acate Xuvenils, voluble and free of grace ;
By thy favour, fiveer veikin. I inal high ji thy faces
Molt rude melancholy, valour gives ibee place.
My herald is return'd.

Re-enter Moth and Collard.

Moth. A wonder, master, here's a Cotard broken in

a Thin. Arm. Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'encov begin.

Coft. No egma, no riddle, no l'encroy; no falve in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; vo l'envoy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantan.

Arm. By virtue, thou enforceft laughter; thy filly thought, my fpleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O pardon me, my fars ! doth the inconsiderate-take salve for l'enw.y, and the word l'envoy for a falve ? Moth. Doth the wise think them other? is not l'envoy

a salves Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to

make plain Some obscure precedence that hath to fore 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 till at odds, being but three.

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