or for thy more understanding, a woman; him, I (as my ever-esteem'd duty pricks me on) have fent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy fweet Grace's officer, Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing and eftimation.

Dull. Me, an't fhall please you: I am Anthony

Dull.

King. For Jaquenetta, (fo is the weaker veffel call'd) which I apprehended with the aforefaid fwain, I keep her as a vaffal of thy law's fury, and shall at the leaft of thy fweet 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 fo well as I look'd for, but the beft that ever I heard.

King. Ay; the beft for the worst. But, firrah, what fay you to this?

Coft. Sir, I confefs 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 be 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 damofel neither, Sir, she was a virgin.

King. It is fo varied too, for it was proclaim'd virgin. Coft. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.

1

King. This maid will not serve your turn, Sir.
Coft. This maid will ferve my turn, Sir.

King. Sir, I will pronounce fentence; you fhall faft a week with bran and water.

Coft. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

N 5

King.

King. And Don Armado fhall be your keeper. My lord Biron, fee him deliver'd o'er.

And go we, lords, to put in practice that,

Which each to other hath fo ftrongly fworn.

[Exeunt.

Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle fcorn. Sirrah, come on.

Coft. I fuffer 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 profperity: affliction may one day fmile again, and until then, fit thee down, forrow. [Exeunt.

Arm. Bo

Changes to Armado's Houfe.

Enter Armado, and Moth.

OY, what fign is it, when a man of great fpirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad. Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.

Moth. No, no; O lord, Sir, no.

Arm. How can't thou part fadness and melancholy, my tender Juvenile ?

Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough Signior.

Arm. Why, tough Signior? why, tough Signior? Moth. Why, tender Juvenile? why, tender Juvenile? Arm. I fpoke 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.

Moth. How mean you, Sir, I pretty, and my faying apt? or I apt, and my faying pretty? Arm. Thou pretty, becaufe little.

Moth. Little pretty, becaufe little; wherefore apt?
Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.

Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?
Arm. In thy condign praife.

Moth. I will praife an eel with the fame praife.
Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious.

Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do fay, thou are quick in answers. Thou heat'ft my blood.

Moth. I am answer'd, Sir.

Arm. I love not to be croft.

Moth. He fpeaks the clean contrary, croffes lové not him.

Arm. I have promis'd to study three years with the King.

Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir.
Arm. Impoffible.

Moth. How many is one thrice told?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit of a tapfter.

Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamefter.

Arm. I confefs both; they are both the varnish of a complete man.

Moth. Then, I am fure, you know how much the grofs fum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth. Which the base vulgar call, three.

Arm. True.

Moth. Why, Sir, is this fuch 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.

Moth. To prove you a cypher.

N 6

Arm.

Arm. I will hereupon confefs, I am in love; and as it is base for a foldier to love, so I am in love with a base wench. If drawing my fword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Defire prisoner; and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devis'd court'fy. I think it fcorn to figh; methinks, I fhould out-fwear Cupid, Comfort mc, boy; what great men

have been in love?

Moth. Hercules, mafter.

Arm. Moft fweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, fweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Sampfon, 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 Sampfon, ftrong-jointed Sampfon! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampfon's love, my dear Moth?

Moth. A woman, master.

Arm. Of what complexion?

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.

Arm. Tell me precifely of what complexion?
Moth. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?

Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the beft of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampfon had fmall reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green wit.

Arm. My love is most immaculate, white and red. Moth. Moft maculate thoughts, Mafter, are mafk'd under fuch colours.

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, affift me!

Arm

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, moft pretty and

pathetical!

Moth. If fhe be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;

For blufhing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white fhown;

Then if she fear, or be to blame,

By this

you fhall not know; For ftill her cheeks poffefs the same, Which native fhe doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, mafter, 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 fuch a ballad some threc 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 fubject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreffion by fome mighty prefident. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; fhe deferves well

Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my mafter deferves.

Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. Moth. And that's great marvel loving a light wench. Arm. I fay, fing.

Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is past."

Dull.

STR

IR, the King's pleafure is, that you keep Coftard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he muft faft three days a week. For this damfel, I must keep her at the park, fhe is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm.