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Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that same? Boyet. The heir of Alanson, Rofaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady ; Monsieur, fare you well.
[Exit. Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in whitet? Boyet. She is an heir of Faulconbridge I. Long. She is a most sweet lady. Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be l. [Exit Long.
Rof. Alack, let it blood.
knife. Biron. Now, God save thy life! Rol. And your’s from long living ! birun. I cannot stay thanksgiving. Dum. Sir, &c.
Ref. No, poynt,
she in white ? Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you saw her in the light. Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire her name, Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame. Lunj. Pray you, Sir, whose daughter? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. Lng. Gcd's blessing on your beard ! Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended.
'She is an, &c.
·Faviconbridge. Long. Nay, my choller is ended :
She is, &c.
ne that may be. Biron. What's her name in the cap ? Boyet. Ca barine, by good hap. Biron. Is the wedded, or no? Boyet. To her will, Sir, or so. Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu ! Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you. [Exit. Biron.
Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;
Boyet. And every jest but a word.
Boyet, And wherefore not ships ?
If my observation, (which very feldom lyes),
skilfully. 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. So you grant pasture for me.
Mar. Not so, gentle beast;
Buyet. Belonging to whom?
Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree,
> Prin. Your reason?
Buget. 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 impreffed, Proud with his form, in his eye pride exprefled, His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, Did Numble with hafte in his eye fight to be : Al senses to ihat senfi did make their repair, To fe: I only looking og faireit of fair; Metbought all his sents were lock'd in his eyes As jewels in cryital for some prince to buy ; Who tend'ring their owiworti, from whence they were glass'd, Did point out to buy them, along as yoi. pass’d. His faces' own margent did quo'e uh apazes, That all eyes faw his eyes inchanted wingizisi I'll give you Aquiiai and all thut is his, An' you give him for my fake but one lovi: kiss.
Prin. Come, 10 our pavil.on: Boye' is dil pos'd.
Boyet. But to speak that in werds which is eye hath disclos'd ;I only hae made a mouth of his eye, By aoding a tongue which I know will noi lye, RS. Thou art, &c,
Rof. Ay, our way to be gone.
[Exeunt. A C Τ ΙΙΙ. . SCENE I.
The park, near the palace.
Enter Armado and Moth. Arm. Arble, child; make passionate my sense of
hearing. Moth. Concolinel
[Singing Arm. Sweet air ! go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain; bring him festinately hither: Imust employ him in a letter to my love.
Moth. Master, will you win your 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 eye-lids; figh a note and fing a note; sometimes through the throat, as if you swallow'd love with singing love; sometimes through the nose, as if you snuff'd up love by smelling love; with your hat 'penthouse like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms cross'd 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 '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 ?
Arm. Call it thou my love hobby-horse? . Moth. No, Master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney: but have you forgot your love ?
Arin. Almost I had.
The burthen of an old song.
Moth. joy her.
Moth. Negligent student ! learn her by heart.
Moth. And out of heart, Master: all those three I will
prove. Arm. What wilt thou prove?
Moth. 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 your
heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot en
Arm. I am all these three.
Moth. And three times as much more; and yet no, thing at all.
Arm. Fetch hither the swain, he must carry me a letter.
Moth. A meffage well sympathiz'd; a horse to be embassador for an ass.
Arm. Ha, ha, what say'st thou ?
the horse, for he is very slow-gated : but I go.
Arm. The way is but short; away.
Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?
Moth. Minimè, honest Master; or rather, Master, no.
Moth. You are too swift, Sir, to say so.
Arm. Sweet smoak of rhetoric !
[Exit. Arm. A most acutejuvenile,voluble, and free of grace; By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must figh in thy face. Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd.
SCENE. SCENE II.
Re-enter Moth and Costard *.
Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance ; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this :
and Costard. Moth. A wonder, Master; here's a Costard broken in a thin. Arm. Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'envoy begin.
Coft. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no laive in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'enviy, no l'envoy, or salve, Sir, but plantan.
Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy filly thought, my Spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling; O pardon me, my stars! doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for a salve ?
Mob. Doth the wise think them other ? is not l'envoy a salve ?
Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain
with my l'envoy.
Morb. I will add the l'envoy; say the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble bee,
Moth. Until the goose came out of door,
Coft. The boy hath fold him a bargain ; a goose, that's fat;
Arm. Come hither, come hither;
Moth. By saying, that a Custard was broken in a fin.
Coft True, and I for a plantan;
firm. But tell me, how was there a Costard broken in a shin?
Coft. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter,