SCENE changes to Armado's houfe.

Enter Armado, and Moth.

Arm. BOY, what is it, when a man of great spirit

grows melancholy?

Moth. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad. Arm. Why, fadnefs is one and the self-fame thing, dear imp.

Moth. No, no; O lord, Sir, no.

Arm. How can'ft thou part fadnefs 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 Juvenile ? Arm. I fpoke 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 faying apt? or I apt, and my faying pretty?

Arm. Thou pretty, becaufe little.

Moth. Little! pretty, because little; wherefore apt ?

Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.

Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master ?

Arm. In thy condign praife.

Moth. I will praife an eel with the fame praife.

Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious.

Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do fay, thou art quick in anfwers. Thou

heat'ft my blood..

Moth. I am anfwer'd, Sir.

Arm. I love not to be croft.

Moth. He fpeaks the clean contrary, croffes love not him. Arm. I have promis'd to ftudy three years with the King. Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir.

Arm. Impoffible.

Moth.

Moth. How many is one thrice told?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the fpirit of a tapfter. Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamefter.

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

Moth. Then, I am fure, you know how much the grofs fum of deuce-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 fuch a piece of study? now here's three ftudied ere you'll thrice wink; and how eafy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years › in two words, the dancing-horfe will tell you.

Arm. A most fine figure.

Moth. To prove you a cypher.

Arm. I will hereupon confefs, I am in love; and as it is base for a foldier to love, fo am I in love with a bafe wench. If drawing my fword againit the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Defire prifoner; and ranfom him to any French courtier for a new-devis'd curt'fy. I think it fcorn to figh; methinks, I fhould out-fwear Cupid. Comfort me, boy, what great men have been in love? Moth. Hercules, mafter.

Arm. Moft fweet Hercules! more authority, dear boy, name more; and, fweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Sampfon, mafter; 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 Sampfon, ftrong-jointed Sampfon! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Sampfon's love, my dear Moth?

Moth. A woman, mafter.

Arm. Of what complection?

Who was

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

Arm. Tell me precifely of what complection ?

Moth.

Moth. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complections?

Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small reafon for it. He, furely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green wit. Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red. Moth. Moft maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under fuch colours.

Arm. Define, definè, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit and my mother's tongue affift me! Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, moft pretty and pathetical!

Moth. If fhe be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blufhing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown;
Then if the fear, or be to blame,
By this you fhall not know;
For ftill her cheeks poffefs the fame,
Which native fhe doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, mafter, against the reafon of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

Moth. The world was guilty of fuch a ballad fome three ages fince, 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 fubject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreffion by fome mighty prefident. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; fhe deferves 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, fing.

Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is paft.

Enter

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid.

Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is that you keep Coftard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must fast three days a week, For this damfel, I must keep her at the park, she is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray myfelf with blufhing: maid,
Jaq. Man,-

Arm. I will vifit thee at the lodge.

Jaq. That's here by.

Arm. I know, where it is fituate.

Jaq. Lord, how wife you are!
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face

Arm. I love thee.

Jaq. So I heard you fay.

Arm. And fo farewel.

Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. (7)

[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.

Arm. Villain, thou shalt faft for thy offence, ere thou be pardoned.

Coft. Well, Sir, I hope when I do it, I fhall do it on a full ftomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

Coft. I am more bound to you, than your

for they are but lightly rewarded.

followers;

Arm. Take away this villain, fhut him up.
Moth. Come, you tranfgreffing flave, away.

Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will faft, being loofe. Moth. No, Sir, that were faft and loofe; thou shalt to prison.

(7) Maid. Fair weather after you. Come Jaquenetta, away.] Thus all the printed copies: but the editors have been guilty of much inadvertence. They make Jaquenetta, and a maid enter: whereas faquenetta is the only maid intended by the poet, and who is committed to the cuftody of Duil, to be convey'd by him to the lodge in the park. This being the cafe, it is evident to demonftration, that-Fair weather after you must be spoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull says to her, come Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the text.

Coft

Coft. Well, if ever I do fee the merry days of defolation that I have seen, fome fhall fee

Moth. What fhall fome fee?

Coft. Nay, nothing, mafter Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prifoners to be filent in their words, and therefore I will fay nothing; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth with Costard. Arm. I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her fhoe (which is bafer) guided by her foot (which is baseft) doth tread. I fhall be forfworn, which is a great argument of falfhood, if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falfly attempted ? love is a familiar, love is a devil; there is no evil angel but love, yet Sampson was fo tempted, and he had an excellent ftrength; yet was Solomon fo feduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-fhaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and second cause will not serve my turn; the Paffado he refpects not, the Duello he regards not; his difgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. Adieu, valour; ruft, rapier; be ftill, drum; for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Affift me, fome extemporal god of rhime, for I am fure, I fhall turn fonnet. Devife wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exeunt.

SCENE, before the King of Navarre's Palace.

Enter the Princess of France, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Boyet, Lords and other Attendants.

N

BOYET.

Confider, whom the King your father fends; To whom he fends, and what's his embally.

Yourself,