!1

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Coft. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth.
I will speak that l'envoy.
Costard running out, that was fafely within,
Fell over the threshold and broke

my

shin.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. 'Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm. Sirrah, Costard, I will infranchise thee.

Coft. O, marry me to one Francis; I smell fome l'envoy, some goose in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immur’d, restrained, captivated, bound.

Coft. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance,
and, in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this;
bear this significant to the country-maid Jaquenetta ;
there is remuneration ; for the best ward of mine ho-
nours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.-

Exit.
Moth. Like the sequele, I. Signior Costard, adieu.

[Exit, Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony jewel! Now will I look to his remuneration. Res muneration ! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings remuneration : What's the price of this incle ? a penny. No, I'll give you a remuneration : why, it carries it. Remuneration ! -why, it is a fairer name than a French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Cost. Pray you, Sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration ?

Biron. What is a remuneration?
Coft. Marry, Sir, half-penny farthing.
Biron. O, why then three farthings worth of filk.
Coft. I thank your worship, God be with you.

Biron. O stay, slave, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall intreat.

Cost. When would you have it done, Sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.
Cost. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knoweft not what it is.
Cost. I shall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.
Coft. I will come to your worship to-morrow morn-

ing
Biron. It must be done this afternoon.
Hark, flave, it is but this:
The Princess comes to hunt here in the park:
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her

name,
And Rosaline they call her; ask for her,
And to her sweet hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.

Coft. Guerdon,- sweet guerdon! better than remuneration, eleven-pence farthing better : moft sweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.

[Exit

,
Biron. O! and 1, forsooth, in love!
1, that have been love's whip;
А

very beadle to a humorous sigh: ? Q<z!? 2° 1'022$
A critic; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal more magnificent.
This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,

*

a

i. This * Signior Junio's giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,

Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed Sovereign of sighs and groans :
Leige of all loyterers and malecontents :
Dread Prince of plackets, King of codpieces :
Sole Imperator, and great General

Of trotting parators : (O my little heart!) e And I to be a corporal of his File,

And wear his colours ! like a tumbler, stoop!
What? I love! I fue! I seek a wife!
A Woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing ; ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd, that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worit of all :
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and by heav'n, one that will do the deed,
Tho' Argus were her eunuch and her guard ;
And I to figh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! go to :-It is a plague,
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty, dreadful, little, Might.
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, sue and groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. (Exit.

a

A C T IV.

S CE N E I.

A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace.
Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords,

Attendants, and a Forefter.

PRINCESS.
AS that the King that spurr'd his horse so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?
* Signior Junio's] By this is meant Youth in general.

Boyet.

WA

O 3

no?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Who e'er he was, he fhew'd a mounting

mind.
Well, lords, to day we shall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then Forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murtherer in ?

For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.

Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that shoot : And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam: for I meant not fo.

Prin. What, what? first praise me, then again say, O short-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for woe!

For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now; Where fair is not, praise cannot

nend the brow, Here, good my glass, take this for telling true; Fair

payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that, which you inherit.

Prin. See, fee, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. O heresy in fair, fit for these days ! A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. But come, the bow ; now mercy goes to kill, And shooting well is then accounted ill. Thus will I save my credit in the shoot, Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't : If wounding, then it was to shew my Skill; That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. And, out of question, fo it is sometimes; Glory grows guilty of detested crimes ; When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart. As I for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that felf-sovereignty

Only

Only for praise-fake, when they strive to be. 'I
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise ; and praise we may afford
To any lady, that subdues her lord.

Enter Coftard.
Boyet. Here comes' a member of the common-

wealth,
Coft. God dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the.
head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cot. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ?
Prin. The thickest and the tallest.
Coft. The thickelt and the tallest ? it is so, truth is

truth.
* An' my waste, mistress, were as slender as your wit,
One o' these maids girdles for my waste should be fit.
Are not

you
the chief woman ?

you

are the thickest here. Prin. What's your will, Sir ? what's your will? Cost. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron, to one

lady Rosaline.
Prin. Othy letter, thy letter:-he's a good friend

of mine.
Stand aside, good bearer. ---Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.
Boyet.

I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
* An' your waste, mistress, were as slender as my wit,

One o' these maids girdles for your waste should be fit.] And was not one of her Maid's Girdles fit for her? It is plain that my and your have all the Way changed Places, by some Accident or other; and that the Lines should be read thus,

An' my waste, mistress, was as slender as your wit,
One of these maids girdles for my waste should be fil.

Prin.

04