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And have the mony by our father lent,
Than Aquitain fo gelded as it is.

Dear Princess, were not his requests fo far
From reafon's yielding, your fair felf fhould make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast;
And go well fatisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In fo unseeming to confefs receipt

Of that, which hath fo faithfully been paid.
King. I do proteft, I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin. We arreft your word:

Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For fuch a fum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfie me fo.

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound: To morrow you fhall have a fight of them.

King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto:

Mean time, receive fuch welcome at my hand,
As honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princefs, in my gates;
But here, without, you fhall be fo receiv'd,
As you
fhall deem your felf lodg'd in my
Tho' fo deny'd fair harbour in my house:
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel;
To morrow we shall vifit you again.

heart,

Prin. Sweet health and fair defires confort your
Grace!

King. Thy own With wifh I thee, in every place.

Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.

[Exit.

Rof.

Rof. I pray you, do my commendations;
I would be glad to fee it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
Rof. Is the fool fick?

Biron. Sick at the heart.

Rof. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Rof. My phyfick fays, ay.

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?
Rof. No, poynt, with my knife.

Biron. Now God fave thy life!
Rof. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.

[Exit.

Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame?

Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady; Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word: what is the in white ? Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the light.

Long. Perchance, light in the light; I defire her

name.

Boyet. She hath but one for herself, to defire That, were a shame.

Long. Pray you, Sir, whofe daughter?
Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's bleffing on your beard!
Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended.

She is an heir of Faulconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choller is ended: She is a moft sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be. [Exit Long,
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,

P 2

Biron.

Biron. 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 done of you to take him at his word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.

Mar. Two hot fheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not ships?

No fheep, (fweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You fheep, and I pafture; fhall that finish the jest?

Boyet. So you grant pafture for me.

Mar. Not fo, gentle beast;

My lips are no common, though feveral they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?

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. Boyet. If my obfervation, (which very feldom lies) By the heart's ftill rhetorick, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected. Prin. Your reafon ?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire

To the Court of his eye, peeping thorough defire:
His heart, like an agat with your print impreffed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expreffed :
His tongue, all impatient to fpeak and not fee,
Did ftumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be:

All

All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair;
Methought, all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for fome Prince to buy;

Who tendring their own worth, from whence they were glafst,

Did point out to buy them, along as you past.
His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes,
That all eyes faw his eyes inchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An' you give him for my fake but one loving kifs.
Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is difpos'd
Boyet. But to fpeak 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.

Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakeft 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. What then, do you fee?
Rof. Ay, our way to be gone.

Boyet. You are too hard for me.

[Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE I.

The Park; near the Palace.

Enter Armado and Moth.

Arm. WArble, child; make passionate my sense of

hearing.

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Moth. Concolinel

[Singing Arm. Sweet Air! go, tenderness of years; take this key, give inlargement 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'ft thou, brawling in French?

Moth. No, my compleat 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; 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 fnuft up love by fmelling love; with your hat penthoufe-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms croft on your thinbelly 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, these are humours; these 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 these?

Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience?
Moth. By my pen of obfervation.

2 Arm. But O, but O

Moth. The hobby-horfe is forgot.

Arm.

1 these are COMPLEMENTS.] We fhould read, 'COMPLISHMENTS, . . accomplishments.

2 Arm. But O, but 0.

Moth. The Hobby-horfe is forgot.] In the celebration of Mayday, befides the fports now us'd of hanging a pole with garlands, and dancing round it, formerly a boy was dreft up reprefenting Maid Marian; another, like a Fryar; and another rode on a Hobby-horfe, with bells jingling, and painted ftreamers. After the reformation took place, and Precifians multiplied, thefe latter rites were look'd upon to favour of paganism; and then maid Marian, the fryar, and the poor Hobby-horfe, were turn'd out

of

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