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Boyet. And every jest 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 sheeps, marry:

Boyet. And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, (sweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips.
Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish

the jest?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

Mar. Not so, gentle beast;
My lips are no common, though several 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 observation, (which very feldom lies)
By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infeded.

Prin. With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affeded.
Prin. Your reason?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the Court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:.
His heart, like an agat 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 hafte in his eye-sight to be:
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on faireft of fair ;
Methought, all his senses were lock’d in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some Prince to buy ;
Who tend'ring their own worth, from whence they

were glasst,
Did point out to buy them, along as you paft.

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His face's own margent

did
quote

such amazes,
That all eyes saw 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 kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Bisyet is dispos'd
Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye

hath disclos'd;
I only have made a mouth of his

cye.
By adding atongue which I know will not lie.
Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest

skilfully.
Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of
jr 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 see?
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet. You are too hard for me.

[Exeunt.

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Walezie, child; make passionate my sense

ACT III. SCENE I.

The Park; near the Palace.
Enter Armado and Moth.

ARMADO.
ARBLE

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 mcan'ít thou, brawling in French ?

Moth.

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; figh a note and sing a note; sometimes through the throat, as if you - swallow'd love with singing love; sometimes through the nose, as if you snuft up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms croft on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbet 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 'complishments, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, 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 observation.
Arm. But O, but O
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?

Arm. Almost I had.
Aloth. 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 ou of, 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.

these are compliments. ] We should read, 'complishments, i.e. accomplishments.

Moth.

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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 fympathiz'd; a horse to be embassador for an ass.

Arm. Ha, ha; what say'st 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, Sir.

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

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

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

Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric !
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
I shoot thee at the swain.
Moth Thump then, and I fly.

[Exit. Arm. A most acute Juvenile, 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.

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Moth. A Wandern

, mafter, here's a Castard broken Arm. Some enigma, some riddle ; come, thy l'envoy

begin. Cost. No egma, nö riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, or salve, Sir, but plantan. VOL. II. 0

Arm.

Arm. By vertue, thou enforceft 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 falve ?

Moth. Doth the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a falve ? Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to

make plain. Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy. 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. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose ; would you de

fire more? Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain ; a goose,

that's flat; Sir, your penny-worth is good, an' your goose be fat. To fell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose. Let me see a fat l'envoy; I, that's a fat goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither ; How did this argument begin ? Most. By saying, that a Costard was broken in a

fhin.
Then call'd you for a l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantan;
Thus came the argument in ;
Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought,
And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin ?

Moth.

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