Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning swain,) I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury; Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and with the manner.1 heart-burning heat of duty DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. ; Dull. Me, an't shall please you; I am Antony Dull. King. For Jaquenetta (so is the weaker vessel called, which I apprehended with the aforesaid (2) A young man. (1) In the fact. Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy? Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. Moth. No, no; O lord, sir, no. Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal ?2 Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior, Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior? Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal? Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent. epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender. Moth. And I, tough senior, 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 Moth, I will praise an eel with the same praise. Muth. That an eel a quick. Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers: Thou neatest my blood. Moth. I am answered, sir. Arm. I love not to be crossed. Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses' Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. Moth. How many is one thrice told? Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir. Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a complete man. Moth. Then, I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. Moth. If she be made of white and red, For still her cheeks possess the same, A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red. Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar? Moth. The world was very guilty of such a bal lad some three ages since: 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 the subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression3 by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Costard; she deserves well. Moth. To be whipped; and yet a better love than my master. [Aside. Arm. Sing, boy; my spirits grow heavy in love. Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Arm. A most fine figure! [Aside. Arm. I say, sing. Moth. Forbear till this company be past. Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love: and, Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta. as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep with a base wench. If drawing my sword against Costard safe; and you must let him take no delight, the humour of affection would deliver me from the nor no penance; but a' must fast three days a-week: reprobate thought of it, I would take desire pri- For this damsel, I must keep her at the park; she soner, and ransom him to any French courtier for is allowed for the day-woman. Fare you well. a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: What great men have been in love? Moth. Hercules, master. Arm. Most sweet Hercules!-More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage. Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great carriage; for he carried the towngates on his back, like a porter: and he was in love. Arm. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too,-Who was Samson's love, my dear Moth? Moth. A woman, master. Arm. Of what complexion? Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two; or one of the four. Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion. Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers: but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Samson had small reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit. Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red. Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are! masked under such colours. Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me! Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and pathetical! (1) The name of a coin once current. (2) Or which she is naturally possessed. Arm. I do betray myself with blushing.-Maid. Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge. Arm. I know where it is situate. [Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, ere thou be pardoned. Cost. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach. Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished. Cost. I am more bound to you, than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded. Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up. Moth. Come, you transgressing slave; away. Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast, being loose. Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose; thou shalt to prison. Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall seeMoth. What shall some see? Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words; and, therefore, I will say nothing: I thank God, I have as little patience as another man; and, therefore, I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth and Costard. Arm. I do affects the very ground, which is base, x (3) Transgression. (4) Dairy-woman. (5) Love, where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir which is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn Of Jacques Falconbridge solemnized, (which is a great argument of falsehood,) if I love: In Normandy saw I this Longaville: and how can that be true love, which is falsely at- A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd; tempted? Love is a familiar; love is a devil: there Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms: is no evil angel but love. Yet Samson was so Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. tempted: and he had an excellent strength: yet The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very good (If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,) wit. Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will; club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello It he regards not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall turn sonnetteer. Devise wit; write pen; for I am for whole Who are the rest? volumes in folio. ACT II. [Exit. wills should none spare that come within his power. Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? Mar. They say so most, that most his humours know. Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd: Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill; For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, SCENE I-Another part of the same. A pavi-I saw him at the duke Alençon's once; And shape to win grace though he had no wit. lion and tents at a distance. Enter the Princess And much too little of that good I saw, of France, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Is my report, to his great worthiness. Lords, and other attendants. Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest Consider who the king your father sends; Of all perfections that a man may owe, Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise; Tell him, the daughter of the king of France, [Exit. (1) Arrow to shoot at butts with, (2) Best, Ros. Another of these students at that time I never spent an hour's talk withal: Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing| else. King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold; [Gives a paper. once ? Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? How needless was it then To ask the question! You must not be so quick. Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. Ros. Not till it leaves the rider in the mire. Biron. What time o' day? Ros. The hour that fools should ask. Ros. Fair fall the face it covers! King. Madam, your father here doth intimate, The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one half of an entire sum, Disbursed by my father in his wars. But say, that he, or we (as neither have,) A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, To have his title live in Aquitain; Which we much rather had depart? withal, Dear princess, were not his requests so far From reason's yielding, your fair self should make Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong, Prin. Boyet, you can produce acquittances, For such a sum, from special officers Of Charles his father. King. We arrest your word: Satisfy me so. (1) Whereas, (2) Part, (3) Aye, yes, Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialities are bound, King. It shall suffice me: at which interview, Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace! King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exeunt King and his Train. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it. Biron. I would, you heard it groan? Biron. Would that do it good? Ros. My physic says, 1.3 Biron. Will you prick't with your eye? that same pray [Retiring. you, a word: What lady is Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well. [Exit. Long. I beseech you a word; What is she in the white? [Exit Long. Biron. What's her name, in the cap? Boyet. word. Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. Prin. Your reason? Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire: Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. I only have made a mouth of his eye, Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? No. Boyet. What then, do you see? Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet. You are too hard for me. [Exeunt. Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing. Moth. Concolinel Arm. How means't thou? brawling in French? Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse. like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit 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 complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches-that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note (do you note, men?) that are most affected to these. Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience? Moth. the hobby-horse is forgot. Arm. Callest 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? Arm. Almost I had. Moth. Negligent student! 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? Moth. A man, if I live: and this, by, in, and without, 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 enjoy her. Arm. I am all these three. Moth. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all! Arm. Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter. Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be ambassador for an ass! Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou? Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited: But I go. 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 slow? Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so; Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun? Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he: [Singing. By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face; Arm. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years; take Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him My herald is return'd.' festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love. Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl ?3 A quibble, several signified unenclosed lands. (2) Hastily, (3) A kind of dance. Re-enter Moth and Costard. Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in a shin. (4) Canary was the name of a sprightly dance, (6) A head, (5 Quick, ready. |