Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.

Biron. You are welcome, sir: adieu!

Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit BIRON.-Ladies unmask.

Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;
Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet.
And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.
Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!

Boyet.
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
Mar. You sheep and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. [Offering to kiss her.
Not so, gentle beast
My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar.

Mar.

To my

fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, agree: The civil war of wits were much better used

On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd.
Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom lies,——
By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

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:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair:

Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;

[glass'd,

Who, tend'ring their own worth from. where they were
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd-

Boyet. But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.
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?

Mar.

No.

What, then; do you see?

You are too hard for me.
[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-A part of the Park.

Enter ARMADO and MOTH.

Arm. Warble, 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; I must 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 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 wenchesthat would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note,-do you note me?-that most are affected to these.

Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Moth. By my penny of observation.

Arm. But 0,--but 0

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 sympathized; 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. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.

Arm. I say lead is slow.

Moth.

You are too swift, sir, to say so:

Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric!

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:-
I shoot thee at the swain.

Thump, then, and I flee.

[Exit.

Moth. Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace! By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face: Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd.

Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD.

Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in a shin. Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come,-thy l'envoy ;— begin.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy;—no salve in the

mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain !

Arm. By virtue thou enforcest laughter; thy silly 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?

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain

Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee

Were still at odds, being but three.

There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy Say the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee
Were still at odds, being but three:

Moth. Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by adding four.

Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my

l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three:

Arm. Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.

Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose;
Would you desire more?

[flat :

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.-
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain: thus came your argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;

And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy.

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm. Sirrah, Costard, I will enfranchise thee.

Cost. O, marry me to one Frances;-I smell some l'envoy, some goose in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this :-bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is remuneration [giving him money]; for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adieu. Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew! [Exit MOTH. 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 inkle?-A penny. -No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it. Remuneration!-why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Enter BIRON.

Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?

Biron. What is a remuneration?

Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.

Biron. O, why then, three-farthings-worth of silk.

Cost. I thank your worship: God be with you!

Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee:

As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is.

Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.