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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.
Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two; or one of the four.
Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion.
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, 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 ! Moth. If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known;
And fears by pale-white shown:
By this you shall not know;
For still her cheeks possess the same,
Which native she doth owe.1 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 ballad 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 digression2 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 wench.
Arm. I say, sing:
Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta. Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe : and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but a'must fast three days a-week: For this damsel, I must keep her at the park; she is allowed for the day-woman.3 Fare well.
Arm. I do betray myself with blushing.–Maid.
(1) Of which she is naturally possessed.
Arm. I love thee.
! Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away.
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.
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 seem
Moth. 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 affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falsehood,) if I love: and how can that be true love, which is falsely attempted ? Love is a familiar ; love is a devil: there is no evil angel but love. Yet Samson was so tempted: and he had an excellent strength: yet was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very good wit. Cupid's butt-shaft2 is too hard for Hercules' club,
(2) Arrow to shoot at butts with.
and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello 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 sonneteer. Devise wit; write pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.
vilion and tents at a distance. Enter the Prin-
spirits : Consider who the king your father sends ; To whom he sends; and what's his embassy : Yourself," held precious in the world's esteem; To parley with the sole inheritor Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchless Navarre ; the plea of no less weight Than Aquitain ; a dowry for a queen. Be now as prodigal of all dear grace, As nature was in making graces dear, When she did starve the general world beside, And prodigally gave them all to you. Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but
mean, Needs not the painted Aourish of your praise ; Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues : I am less proud to hear you
Than you much willing to be counted wise
1 Lord. Longaville is one.
Know you the man?
Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?