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Moth. I will tell you fenfibly.

Coft. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth.
I will speak that l'envoy.

Coftard running out, that was fafely within,
Fell over the threshold and broke my fhin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. Coft. 'Till there be more matter in the fhin." Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchife thee. Coft. O, marry me to one Francis; I fmell fome l'envoy, fome goofe in this.

Arm. By my fweet foul, I mean, fetting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy perfon; thou wert immur'd, reftrained, captivated, bound.

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

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

[Exit.

Moth. Like the fequele, I. Signior Coftard, adieu. [Exit,

Coft. My fweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony jewel! Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! 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 fell out of this word.

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Coft. 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 fay, flave, I muft employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave,
Do one thing for me that I fhall intreat.

Coft. When would you have it done, Sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.

Coft. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knoweft not what it is.

Coft. I fhall 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 muft be done this afternoon.

Hark, flave, it is but this:

The Princefs comes to hunt here in the park:
And in her train there is a gentle lady;

When tongues fpeak fweetly, then they name her

name,

And Rofaline they call her; ask for her,

And to her fweet hand fee thou do commend This feal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go. Coft. Guerdon,-O fweet guerdon! better than remuneration, eleven-pence farthing better: moft fweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.

Biron. O and I, forfooth, in love!

I, that have been love's whip;

A

[Exit.

very beadle to a humorous figh: ? ameroris

A critic; nay, a night-watch conftable;

A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal more magnificent.

This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,

. This * Signior Junio's giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed Sovereign of fighs 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!)
And I to be a corporal of his File,

And wear his colours! like a tumbler, stoop!
What? I love! I fue! I feek 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 fill go right!
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all:
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,

With two pitch balls ftuck 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!
Το pray for her! go to:-It is a plague,
That Cupid will impofe for my neglect
Of his almighty, dreadful, little, Might.

Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue and groan: Some men must love my lady, and fome Joan. [Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace.

Enter the Princefs, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords,

WAS

Attendants, and a Forefter.

PRINCESS.

TAS that the King that spurr'd his horse so hard
Against the steep uprifing of the hill?

* Signior Junio's] By this is meant Youth in general.

O 3

Boyet.

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

Well, lords, to day we fhall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

Then Forefter, my friend, where is the bufh,
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A ftand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that shoot :
And thereupon thou speak'ft the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam: for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what? first praise me, then again say,

no?

O fhort-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for woe!
For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;

Where fair is not, praise cannot mend 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 fav'd by merit. O heresy in fair, fit for thefe days!

A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise.
But come, the bow; now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I fave my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to fhew my Skill;
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of queftion, fo it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted 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 feek to spill

The poor
deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that felf-fovereignty

Only

Only for praife-fake, when they ftrive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

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

Enter Coftard.

Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

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

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

Coft. Which is the greateft lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest and the tallest.

Coft. The thickeft and the talleft? it is fo, truth is truth.

* An' my wafte, mistress, were as flender as your wit, One o' these maids girdles for my wafte fhould be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickeft

here.

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will? Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron, to one lady Rofaline.

Prin. Othy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.

Stand afide, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.

Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

This letter is miftook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

* An' your waste, mistress, were as flender as my wit,

One o' thefe 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 fome Accident or other; and that the Lines fhould be read thus,

An' my waste, miftrefs, was as flender as your wit,
One of thefe maids girdles for my waste should be fit.

04

Prin.

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