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 Coftard, adieu ! [Exit. Coft. My fweet 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. SCENE III. Enter Biron. Biron. O my good knave Costard, exceedingly well met. Coft. Pray you, Sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration ? Biron. What is a remuneration? Coft. Marry, Sir, half-penny farthing. Biron. O, why then three farthings worth of filk. Coft. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare you well. Coft. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchife thee. Coft. O, marry me to one Francis; I fmell fome l'envoy, fome goofe in this. Arm. By my fweet fou!, I mean, fetting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immur'd, reftrained, captivated, bound. Ceft. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loofe. Arm. I give, &c. Coft Coft.I will come to your Worship to-morrow morning. Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, flave, it is but this: The Princefs comes to hunt here in the park: When tongues fpeak fweetly, then they name her name, And to her fweet hand fee thou do commend This feal'd-up counfel. There's thy guerdon; go. Coft. Guerdon, O fweet guerdon ! better than remuneration, elevenpence farthing better: most fweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.[Exit. Biron. O and I, forfooth, in love! A critic; nay, a night-watch constable; This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, Of trotting parators: (O my little heart!) And wear his colours! like a tumbler, ftoop! That That Cupid will impofe for my neglect Of his almighty, dreadful, little, might. Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue, and grone: Some men must love my Lady, and fome Joan. [Exit. A ст IV. SCENE A pavilion in the park near the palace. I. Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords, attendants, and a Forefter. Prin. AS that the King that fpurr'd his horfe fo hard WA Against the steep uprifing of the hill? Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he. Then, Forester, my friend, where is the bufh, For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; the fairest shoot. Prin. I thank my beanty, I am fair, that shoot: Prin. What, what? first praife me, then again fay, no? Prin. Nay, never paint me now; Where fair is not, praile cannot mend the brow. For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise. That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill, And, Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth†. Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron to one Lady Rofaline. Prin. O thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine. Stand afide, good bearer. Break up this capon *. Boyet. I am bound to ferve. -Boyet, you can carve : This letter is miftook, it importeth none here; It is writ to Jaquenetta. Prin. We will read it, I fwear. Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet reads. BY 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, fo it is sometimes; When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part, As I for praife alone now seek to spill The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Byet. Do not curs'd wives hold that self-sovereignty Only for praife-fake, when they strive to be Lords o'er their lords? Prin. Only for praife; and praife we may afford To any lady that fubdues her lord. Ceft. God dig you den all; pray you, which is the head lady? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the reft that have no heads. Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the higheft? Prin. The thickest and the tallest. Coft. The thickeft and the talleft; it is fo, truth is truth. An' my wafte, miftrefs, were as flander as your wit, One o' these maids girdles for my waift should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here. Coft. I have, &c. Meaning the letter, as poulet in French fignifies both a chicken and a love-letter. vafal. The magnanimous and moft illuftrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and be it was that might rightly fay, Veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (0 base and obfcure vulgar!), videlicet, He came, faw, and overcame he came, one; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What far he? the beggar. Who overcame he? the beggar. The conclufion is victory: on whofe fide? the King's; the captive is inrich'd: on whofe fide the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whofe fide? the King's: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King, (for fo ftands the comparison); thou the beggar, for fo witneeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I inforce thy love? I could. Shall I intreat thy love? I will. What shalt 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 thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine in the deareft defign of industry, Don Adriano de Armado. Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar prey; And he from forage will incline to play. But if thou ftrive, (poor foul), what art thou then? Food for his rage, repafture 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 flyle. Prin. Elle 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 fport To the Prince, and his book-mates. Prin. Thou, fellow, a word: Who gave thee this letter? Coft. |