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ARM. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.

МотH. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, fir.

ARM. I confefs both; they are both the varnish of a complete man.

Мотн. Then, I am fure, you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

ARM. It doth amount to one more than two.
Мотн. Which the base vulgar do call, three.
ARM. True.

Мотн. Why, fir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink: and how easy is it 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 !

Мотн. To prove you a cypher.

[Afide.

ARM. I will hereupon confefs, I am in love: and, as it is base for a foldier to love, fo 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 ransom him to any French courtier for a new devis'd court'sy. I think scorn to figh; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: What great men have been in love ?

Мотн. 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.

Мотн. Sampson, master: 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 Sampson ! strong-jointed Sampson ! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too.-Who was Samp

son's love, my dear Moth ?

Мотн. 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?
MorH. Of the fea-water green, fir.

ARM. Is that one of the four complexions? МоTH. As I have read, fir; 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 reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was so, fir; for she had a green wit. ARM. My love is most immaculate white and red. Мотн. Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under fuch colours.

ARM. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Мотн. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, affift me!

ARM. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and pathetical!

МоTH. If she be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown:
Then, if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;
For still her cheeks possess the fame,
Which native she doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, master, against the reason of white and red.

ARM. Is therenota ballad, boy, ofthe 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 digression 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.

Мотн. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master.

[Afide.

ARM. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. Мотн. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.. ARM. I say, fing.

Мотн. Forbear till this company be past.

Enter DULL, COSTARD, and FAQUENETTA. DULL. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Coftard 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. Fare you well.

ARM. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid.
JA2. Man.

ARM. I will visit thee at the lodge.

JAR. That's hereby.

ARM. I know where it is situate.

JAR. Lord, how wife you are!

ARM. I will tell thee wonders.

JA2. With that face?

ARM. I love thee.

JAL. So I heard you say.
ARM. And fo farewell.

JAR. Fair weather after you !

DULL. Come, Jaquenetta, away.

[Exeunt DULL and JAQUENETTA. ARM. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, ere thou

be pardoned.

COST. Well, fir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full ftomach.

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.
Мотн. Come, you transgressing slave; away.

Cost. Let me not be pent up, fir; I will faft, being loofe.

Мотн. No, fir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prifon.

COST. Well, if ever I do fee the merry days of defolation that I have seen, some shall fee

Мотн. What shall fome fee ?

Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too filent 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 МотH 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 forfworn, (which is a great argument of falshood,) 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 Sampson was so tempted; and he had an excellent strength: yet was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very good wit. Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's VOL. II.

B

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 fubdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me some extemporal god of rhime, for, I am fure, I shall turn fonneteer. Devise wit; write pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Another part of the fame. A Pavilion and Tents at a distance.

Enter the Princess of FRANCE, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, LORDS, and other Attendants.

Bor. Now, madam, fummon up your dearest spirits: Confider 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 fole 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 flourish of your praise; Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues : I am less proud to hear you tell my worth, Than you much willing to be counted wife

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