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She is a most sweet lady.
[Exit Biron. Ladies unmask. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest.
Boret. And every jest but a word.
Boret. And wherefore not ships?
Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jest?
[Offering to kiss ber. Mar. Not so, gentle beast; My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boret. Belonging to whom?
Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, agree:
Boret. If my observation, (which very seldom lies,) By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
PRIN. With what ?
Boret. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
such amazes, That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with
Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos’d-
is but grim.
see? Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. Boret. You are too hard for me.
Enter ARMADO and Moth.
Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of
hearing MOTH. Concolinel
[Singing. Arm. Sweet air !_Go, tenderness of years ; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither ; I must employ him in a letter to my love. Moth. Master, will you
love with a French brawl ?
ARM. How mean'st thou ? brawling in French ?
Moth. No, my complete master : 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 ; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallow, ed love with singing love ; sometime through the nose, as if you snuff'd up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes ; with your arms cross'd on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches—that would be betray'd without these ; and make them men of note, (do you note, men ?) that most are affected to these.
Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience ?
Arm. Call'st thou my love, hobby-horse?
Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot
ARM. Almost I had.
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 without, upon the instant: By heart
love her, because your heart cannot come by her : in heart you love her, because 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 swain; he must carry me a letter.
Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be embaffador for an ass!
Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou ?
the horse, for he is very slow-gaited : But I go.
Arm. The way is but short; away.
Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?
Moth. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.
Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so:
Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetorick!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
Re-enter Moth® and COSTARD. Moth. A wonder, master ; here's a Costard broken in a shin.
[begin. Arm. Some enigma,some riddle: come,-thy l'envoy;-
Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, sir: O sir, plantain, a plain plantain ; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain !
Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter ; thy filly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: 0, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve ?
Moth. Do the wise think them other ? is not l'envoy a salve ? Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make
plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it :
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Moth. I will add the l'envoy : Say the moral again.
Were still at odds, being but three:
And stay'd the odds by adding four.