Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

She is a most sweet lady.
Boret. Not unlike, sir ; that may be.

[Exit Long.
Biron. What's her name, in the cap ?
Boret. Katharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is she wedded, or no?
Boret. To her will, sir, or so.
Biron. You are welcome, fir; adieu !
Boret. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

[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.
Prin. It was well done of you, to take him at his word.
Boret. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
Mar. Too hot sheeps, marry !

Boret. And wherefore not ships?
No feep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.

Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jest?
Boret. So you grant pasture for me.

[Offering to kiss ber. Mar. Not so, gentle beast; My lips are no common, though several they be.

Boret. Belonging to whom?
Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, agree:
The civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused,

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. With that which we lovers intitle, affected.
Prin. Your reason?

Boret. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire :
His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed :
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-light to be ;
All senses to that sense 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 some prince to buy ;
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were

glass'd,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass’d,
His face's own margent

did
quote

such amazes, That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with

gazes :
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos’d-
Boret. 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 lie.
Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skil-

fully.
Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of

him.
Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father

is but grim.
Boret. Do you hear, my mad wenches?
MAR. No.
Boret. What then, do you

see? Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. Boret. You are too hard for me.

[Exeunt.

[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors]

ACT III.
SCENE I. Another part of the fame.

Enter ARMADO and Moth.

[ocr errors]

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

win
your

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 ?
Moth. By my penny of observation.
Arm. But 0,-but 0,-
Moth. -the hobby-horse is forgot.

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

your love?

[ocr errors]

ARM. Almost I had.
Moti. Negligent student! learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

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

you

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 ?
Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon

the horse, for he is very slow-gaited : But I go.

Arm. The way is but short; away.
Moth. As swift as lead, fir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and flow?

Moth. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.
Arm. I say, lead is slow.

Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so:
Is that lead flow which is fir'd from a gun?

Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetorick!

[ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small]

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
I shoot thee at the swain.
Moth. Thump then, and I flee.

[Exit
Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return'd.

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.
There's the moral: Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy : Say the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Were still at odds, being but three:
Moth. Until the goose came out of door,

And stay'd the odds by adding four.

« PredošláPokračovať »