Dear Princess, were not his requests so far And go well fatisfied to France again. Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong, Of that which hath fo faithfully been paid. Prin. We arreft your word. Boyet, you can produce acquittances King. Satisfy me fo. Boyet. So pleafe your Grace, the packet is not come King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview, Prin. Sweet health and fair defires confort your Grace! [Exit. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. Rof. I pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it. Biron. I would you * heard it grone Rof. Is the + fool fick? Biron. Sick at the heart. t foul. Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame? Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be . [Exit. Long. Rof. Alack, let it blood. Piron. Would that do it good? Fof. My phylic fays, Ay. Beron. Will you prick 't with your eye? Ref No, poynt, with my knife. Biron. Now, God fave thy life! fhe in white? [Exit. Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the light. Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. Long. God's bleffing on your beard! Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended. that may be. Biron. What's her name in the cap? Boyet. Catharine, by good hap. Biron. Is the wedded, or no? Boyet. To her will, Sir, or fo. Eiron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu! Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.' [Exit Biron. Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jeft. Boyet. And every jeft but a word. Prin. It was well dene of you to take him at his word. Boyet. And wherefore not thips? No fheep, (fweet lamb), unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish the jest ? If my obfervation, (which very feldom lyes), Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest skilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Rof. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? Mar. No. Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. My lips are no common, though feveral they be. Mar. To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree. This civil war of wits were much better us'd On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd. is infected. Prin. With what? Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected. Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire Who tend'ring their own worth, from whence they were glass'd, His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes, An' you give him for my fake but one loving kiss. 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 lye, Rof. Thou art, &c. Arm. 7 Arble, child; make paffionate my fenfe of Moth. Concolinel [Singing. Arm. Sweet air! go, tendernefs of years; take this key, give enlargement to the fwain; bring him feftinately hither: I muft employ him in a letter to my love. Moth. Mafter, will you win your love with a French brawl? Arm. How mean'it thou, brawling in French? Moth. No, my compleat Mafter; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; figh a note and fing a note; fometimes through the throat, as if you fwallow'd love with finging love; fometimes through the nofe, as if you fnuff'd up love by smelling love; with your hat penthoufe-like, o'er the fhop of your eyes; with your arms cross'd on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbet on a fpit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a fnip, and away: thefe are 'complishments, thefe are humours; thefe betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without thefe, and make them men of note (do you note me?) that are most affected to thefe? Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience? Arm. But O, but O. Moth. The bobby-horfe is forgot *. Arm. Call'ft thou my love hobby-horfe? Moth. No, Mafter; the hobby-horfe is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney but have you forgot your love? Arm. Almoft I had. *The burthen of an old fong. Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart. 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 out of, upon the inftant: by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, becaufe 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 fwain, he muft carry me a letter. Moth. A meffage well fympathiz'd; a horse to be embaffador for an afs. Arm. Ha, ha; what fay'ft thou? Moth. Marry, Sir, you must fend the afs upon the horse, for he is very flow-gated: but I go.. Arm. The way is but fhort; away. Moth. As fwift as lead, Sir. Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead of metal heavy, dull, and flow? Moth. Minimè, honeft Mafter; or rather, Mafter, no. Arm. I fay, lead is flow. Moth. You are too fwift, Sir, to say so. Is that lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun? He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he: Moth. Thump then, and I fly. [Exit. Arm. A moft acute juvenile, voluble, and free of grace; By thy favour, fweet welkin, I muft figh in thy face. Moft rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd. |