Arm. B Changes to Armado's House. Enter Armado and Moth. OY, what fign is it, when a man of great fpirit grows melancholy? Moth. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad. Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-fame thing, dear imp (1). 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? Moth. Speak you this in my praife, master? Arm. In thy condign praife. Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise. Moth. That an eel is quick. Arm. I do fay, thou art quick in anfwers. Thou heat'it my blood (1) dear Imp.] Imp was anciently a term of dignity. Lord Cromwel in his laft letter to Henry VIII prays for the imp his fon. It is now used only in contempt or abhorrence; perhaps in our au thour's time it was ambiguous, in which ftate it fuits well with this dialogue. Moth. Moth. I am answer'd, Sir. Arm. I love not to be croft. Moth. He fpeaks the clean contrary, croffes love not him (2). Arm. I have promis'd to ftudy three years with the King. Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir. Moth. How many is one thrice told? Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit 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 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 fuch a piece of study? now here's three ftudied ere you'll thrice wink ; and how eafy is it to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing-horfe will tell you *. Arm. A moft fine figure. Moth. To prove you a cypher. (2) croffes love not him.] By croffes he means money. So in As you like it, the Clown lays to Celia, if I fhould bear you, I should bear no cross. * And how easy is it to put years to the word three, and ftudy three years in two words, the dancing horfe will tell you.] Banks's borfe, which plaid many remarkable pranks. Sir Walter Raleigh, (Hiftory of the World, firft. part, p 178.) fays "If Banks had lived in older times, he would have fhamed all the inchanters in the "world: for whofoever was most famous among them could never "mafter, or inftruct any beaft as he did his horfe." And Sir Kenelm Digby (a Treatife of Bodies, chap. 38. p. 393.) obferves, "That this horfe would restore a glove to the due owner, after "the mafter had whispered the man's name in his ear; would "tell the just number of pence in any piece of filver coin, newly "thewed him by his mafter; and even obey presently his command, "in discharging himself of his excrements, whenfoever he bade "him." Dr. GRAY. Arm. Arm. I will hereupon confefs, I am in love; and, as it is base for a soldier to love, so I am in love with a base wench. If drawing my fword against 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 should 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. Math. 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 Samplon, ftrong-jointed Sampson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didft me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampfon's love, my dear Moth? Moth. A woman, mafter. Arm. Of what complexion? Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four. Arm. Tell me precifely of what complexion? Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the beft of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small reason for it. He, furely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green wit. Arm. My love is moft immaculate white and red. Moth. Moft maculate thoughts, mafter, are mask'd under fuch colours. Arm. Define, define, 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! P 2 Moth. Moth If the be made of white and red, By this you fhall not know For ftill her cheeks poffefs the fame, A dangerous thime, mafter, 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 fuch a ballad fome three ages fince, but, I think, now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither ferve 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 precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; the deferves well Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my malter deferves. Arm. Sing, boy; my fpirit grows heavy in love. Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. Arm. I fay, fing. Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is past. SCENE IV. Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta, a Maid. Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is, that you keep Cof tard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he muft faft three days a-week. For this damfel, I must keep her at the park, the is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well. Arm. I do betray myself with blushing; maid,— Arm. I will vifit thee at the lodge. Jaq. That's here by. Arm. I know where it is fituate. Jaq. Faq. Lord, how wife you are! Arm. I will tell thee wonders. Faq. With that face ? Arm. I love thee. Jaq. So I heard you say. Arm. And fo farewel. Faq Fair weather after you! Dull. Come,. Jaquenetta, away (3).. [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 followers; for they are but lightly rewarded: Arm Take away this villain, fhut him up. Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will faft, being loofe. Moth. No, Sir, that were faft and loofe; thou shalt to prifon. Coft. Well, if ever I do fee the merry days of defolation that I have feen, fome fhall fee Moth. What fhall fome fee? Coft. Nay, nothing, mafter Moth, but what they (3) 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 Jaquenetta is the only Maid intended by the Poet, and is committed to the Cuftody of Dull, to be conveyed 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 Ja. quenetta; and then that Dull fays to her, Come, Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the Text. THEOBALD. Mr. Theobald has endeavoured here to dignify his own industry by a very flight performance. The folios all read as he reads, except that inftead of naming the perfons they give their characters, enter Clown, Conftable, and Wench. |