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Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love; and as it is base for a soldier to love, so I am in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner; and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devis'd court'sy. I think it scorn to figh; methinks, I should out-fwear Cupid. Comfort me, boy; what great men have been in love?

Moth. Hercules, master.

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

Moth. Sampson, 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 Sampson, strong-jointed Sampson ! I do.excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didft me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampson'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 precisely of what complexion ?
Moth. Of the sea-water green, Sir.
Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?
Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too.

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small reason for it. He,furely, affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was fo, Sir, for she had a green wit. Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, Master, are mask'd under such colours.

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.

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


By this

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical! Moth. If she be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known; For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,

And fears by pale-white shown; Then if she fear, or be to blame,


shall not know; For ftill her cheeks possess the same,

Which native she doth owe. A dangerous rhime, master, 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 such a ballad fome three 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 subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Costard; she deserves well

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

Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth. And that's great marvel loving a light wench.
Arm. I say, sing.
Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is paft.



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Enter Costard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid. Dull. IR, the King's pleasure is, that you keep

Costard safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must fast three days a week.

For this damsel, I must keep her at the park, she is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.


Arm. I do betray myfelf with blushing : maid, -
Jaq. Man,
Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaq. That's here by.
Arm. I know, where it is situate.
Jaq. Lord, how wife you are !
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face?
Arm. I love thee.
Jaq. So I heard you say.
Arm. And so farewel.
Jaq. Fair weather after you !
Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away.

[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offence, ere thou be pardonec.

Coff. Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

Cost. I am more bound to you, than your followers; for they are but lightly rewarded.

Armi Take away this villain, fhut him up. .
Moth. Come, you transgressing flave, away.

Cost. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will' fast, being loose.

Moth. No, Sir, that were fast and loose; thou shalt to prison.

Coft. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of defolation that I have seen, fome shall see

Moth. What shall fome see?

Coft. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. (Exeunt Moth and Costard.

Arm. I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoe (which is baser) guided by her foot which is baseft) doth tread. I shall be forfworn, which is a great argument of falfhood, if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falsely attempted ? love is a familiar, love is a devil; there is no evil angel but love, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-shaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and second cause will not serve my turn; the Pasado he refpe&s not, the Duello be regards not; his difgrace is to be callid boy; but his glory is to subdue


Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum ! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Allift me, some extemporal God of rhime, for, I am sure, I shall turn sonnetteer. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.






Before the King of Naverre's Palace.
Enter the Princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Catha-
rine, Boyet, Lords and other Attendants.

OW, Madam, summon up your dearest spirits ;

Consider, whom the King your father sends;
To whom he fends, and what's his embally.
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the fole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea, of no less weight
Than Aquitain, a dowry for a Queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace,
As nature was in making graces dear,
When she did ftarve the general world beside,
And prodigaily gave them all 10 you.


Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but

mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utter'd by base sale of chapmens' tongues. I am less proud to hear you tell my worth, Than you much willing to be counted wise, In spending thus your wit in praise of mine. But now, to talk the tasker; good Boyet, You are not ignorant, all-telling fame Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, 'Till painful study shall out-wear three years, No woman may approach his filent Court; Therefore to us seems it a needful course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To know his pleasure; and in that behalf, Bold of your worthiness, we single you As our best-moving fair solicitor. Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, On serious business, craving quick dispatch, Importunes personal conference with his Grace. Halte, fignify so much, while we attend, Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will. Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. (Exit

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so;
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous King ?

Lord. Longaville is one.
Prin. Know


the man?
Mar. I knew him, Madam, at a marriage-feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge folemnized.
In Normandy saw I this Longaville,
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms,
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well.
The only foil of his fair virtue's gloss,
(If virtue's glofs will ftain with any soil,)

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