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Boyet. And wherefore not ships!
Mar, You Theep, and I pafture; shall that finish the jest ?
Mar. Not fo, gentle beaft ;
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Prin. Good wits will be jangling ; but, gentles, agree.
Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lyes) By the heart's ftill rhetorick, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Prin. With what?
Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos do
RofThou art an old love-monger, and speakest kilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Ref. 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? Ros, Ay, our way to be gone. # Boyet. You are too hard for me. (8) [Exeunt.
SCENE the Park; near the Palace.
Enter Armado and Moth.
drm. W hearing
Arble, child; make passionate my fenfe of
(Singing. Arm. Sweet Air ! go, tenderness of years ; take this key, give inlargement to the fwain; bring him festinately hither : I must employ him in a letter- to my love.
Moth. Mafter, will you win your love with a Frencbo brawl ?
Arm. How mean'st thou, brawling in French?
(8) Boyet. You are too bard for me.) Here, in all the Books, the second A& is made to end : but in my Opinion very mistakenly. I have ventur'd to vary the Regulation of the four last Acts from the printed Copies, for these Reasons. Hitherto, the second Act has been of the Extent of seven Pages; the third but of five; and the fifth of no less than twenty-nine. And this Disproportion of Length has crouded too many incidents into some A&ts, and left the others quite barren. I have now reduced them into a much better Equality; and distributed the Business likewife, (Tuch as it is,) into a more vniform Carte
Moth. No, my compleat'mafter (9); but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humoar it with turning up your eyelids; figh a note and fing å note;, sometimes through the throat, as if you swallow'd love with finging love; fometimes 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 compliments, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, and make the men of note (10): do you, note men, that are most affected to these?
Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience ?
Arm. But O, but O.
%99 Moth. No, my compleat Mafler, &c.] This whole Speech has been so terribly confused in the Pointing, through alf the Editisna hitherto; that not the least glimmering of Sense was to be pick'd out of it. As I have regulated the Passage, I think, Morb delivers both good Sense and good Humour, (10)
these betray nice Wenches, that would be betray'd witb.. out these, and make them Men of Note.] Thus all the Editors, with a Sagacity worthy of Wonder, But who will ever believe, that the odd Attitudes and Affectations of Lovers, by which they betray young Wenches, should have power to make those young Wenches Men of Note? This is a: Transformation, which, 1 dara ay, the Poet never thought of His Meaning is, that they not only inveigle the young Girls, but make the. Men taken pozice of toos who affect them, qe ti į 309, (11) Arm. But Os but. Oraingoan;
Moth. The Hobby-horse is forgot.) The Humour of this Reply of Moth's to Armado, who is tighing in Love, cannot be taken without a little Explanation; nor why there should be any room for making such a Reply. In the Rites formerly observ'd for the Celebration of Mey-day, besides those now us’d of hange
your love ?
Arm. Call'At thou my love hobby-horse?
Motb. 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?
Motb. A man, if I live: And this by, in, and out of, upon the instant : by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you love her, because
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 no. thing at all.
Ārm. Fetch hither the swain, he must carry me a letter.
Moth. A message well sympathis'd; a horse to be embassador for an afs.
Arm. Ha, ha; what fay'st thou?
Moth. Marry, Sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very flow-gated: but I go.
irig a Pole with Garlands, and dancing round it, a Boy was dreft up representing Maid Marian ; another, like a Friar; and anoiher rode on a Hobby-borfe, with Bells jingling, and painted Streamers. After the Reformation took place, and Precifrans multiplied, these latter Rites were look'd upon to favour of Paganism; and then Maid Marian, the Friar, and the poor Hobby. borje were turn'd out of the Games. Some, who were not so wisely precise, but re. gretted the Disuse of the Hobby-borse, no doubt, satiriz'd this Suspicion of Idola ry, and archly wrote the Epitaph above alluded
Now Morb, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out, But oh! but ob! -humorously pieces out his Exclamation with the Sequel of this Epitaph: which is putting his. Master's LovePalion, and the Loss of the Hobby-borse, on a Footing.
Arm. The way is but short; away.
Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?
Moth. Minimè, honeft master; or rather, maser, ne.
Moh. You are too swift, Sir, to say fo.
Ar. Sweet lines of rhetorick!
Arn. A molt acate Xuvenils, voluble and free of grace ;
Re-enter Moth and Collard.
Moth. A wonder, master, here's a Cotard broken in
a Thin. Arm. Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'encov begin.
Coft. No egma, no riddle, no l'encroy; no falve in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; vo l'envoy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantan.
Arm. By virtue, thou enforceft laughter; thy filly thought, my fpleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O pardon me, my fars ! doth the inconsiderate-take salve for l'enw.y, and the word l'envoy for a falve ? Moth. Doth the wise think them other? is not l'envoy
a salves Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to
make plain Some obscure precedence that hath to fore been fain. 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 till at odds, being but three.