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the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden. There did I see that low-spirited fwain, that base minow of thy mirth, (Coft. Me?), that unletter'd small-knowing foul, ( Coft. Me ?), that shallow vasal, (Cost. Still me?) which, as I remember, hight Costard, (Coft. O me !), forted and conforted, contrary to thy established proclaimed ediêt and continent canon, with, with, O with, -but with this I passion to say wherewith:
Coft. With a wench.
King. With a child of our grandmother Eve, a female ; or for thy more understanding, a woman ; him, I (as my ever-esteem'd duty pricks me on) have sent to tbee, to receive the need of punishment, by thy sweet Grace's officer, Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.
Dull. Me, an't shall please you : I am Anthony Dull.
King. For Jaquenetta, ( so is the weaker vesel callid), which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain, I keep her as a vasal of thy law's fury, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice bring her to trial. Thine in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty,
Don Adriano de Armado.
Biron. This is not so well as I look'd for, but the best that ever I heard.
King. Ay; the best for the worst. But, firrah, what say you to this? Coft. Sir, I confess the wench.
King. Did you hear the proclamation ? Coft. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.
King. It was proclaim'd a year's imprisonment to bo taken with a wench.
Coft. I was taken with none, Sir, I was taken with a damofel.
King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel.
Coft. This was no damosel neither, Sir, she was a virgin.
King. It is so varied too, for it was proclaim’d virgin.
Got. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.
King. This maid will not serve your turn, Sir.
king. Sir, I will pronounce sentence; you shall fast a week with bran and water, - tinjt. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
King. And Don Armado fhall be your keeper. My Lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er. And go w2, Lords, to put in practice that, Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
[Exeunt. Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on.
Cofi. I suffer for the truth, Sir: for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore welcome the four cup of prosperity: affiction may one day smile again, and until then, fit thee down, forrow.
Changes to Armado's house.
Enter Armado, and Moth.
Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?
Moth. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad.
Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-fame thing, dear imp.
Alcih. No, no; O Lord, Sir, no.
Arn. How can it thou part sadness and melancholy, my terder juvenile?
Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my toh Signior. Arm. Why tough Signior? why tough Signior ?
Moth. Why tender javenile ? why tender juvenile ?
Arm. I spoke 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, because little.
érm. I do fay, thou art quick in answers. Thou heat'st my blood.
Moth. I am answer'd, Sir.
Moth. He speaks the clean contrary, crosses * love not him.
Arm. I have promis'd to study three years with the King.
Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir.
Ariu. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the fpirit of a tapiter, Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester.
Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a compleat man.
Moth. Then, I am fure, you know how much the gross fum of deuce-ace amounts to.
Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth. Why, Sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here's three ftudied 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-horse will tell you.
Arm. A moft fine figure.
it is base for a soldier to love, so I am in love with a base wench. - If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prisoner; and ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devis'd curtsey. I think it scorn to figh; 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 town-gates 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, Mafter.
Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four,
Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion ?
Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers ; but to have a love of that colour, méthinks, Samson had small reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit.
Moth. It was so, Sir, for she had a green wit.
Moth. Most maculate thoughts, Master, are mask'd
mother's fift 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 ; For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown
Then if she fear, or be to blame,
shall not know ; For fill her cheeks possess the faine,
Which native the doth owe. A dangerous rhime, Maiter, 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 such a ballad fome " three ages fince, 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 that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreflion by some mighty president, Boy, I do love that country-girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; the deserves well
Moth. To be whipp’d; and yet a better love than my master deserves.
[ Afide. Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love, Moth. And that's greater marvel loving a light wench. Arm. I say, fing. Mot.. Forbear, till this company is pass’d.
SCENE IV. Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a maid. Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe; and you must let him take no delight, nor Bo penance; but he must fast three days a-week. For this damsel, I must keep her at the park, she is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you