SCENE II.
The park near the palace.
ARMADO, MOTH.
ARMADO.
Warble, child; make passionate my sense of
hearing.
MOTH.
Concolinel—
[singing.]
-- 22 --
ARMADO.
Sweet air! go, tenderness of years; take this
key, and bring hither festinately, my sonata, I must
employ you to carry it to my love.
MOTH.
Master, will you win your love with a French
brawl?
ARMADO.
How mean'st thou brawling in French?
MOTH.
No, my compleat master, but to jigg off a tune
at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet,
humour it with turning up your eyelids; sigh a
note, and sing a note; sometimes through the
throat, as if you swallowed love by singing love;
sometimes thro' the nose, as if you snuft up love
by smelling love, with your hat, pent-house like,
o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crost 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 complements, these
are humours; these betray nice wenches that wou'd
be—betrayed without these, and make the men of
note.
ARMADO.
How hast thou purchas'd this experience?
MOTH.
By my pen of observation.
ARMADO.
Sing, Boy! sing.
MOTH. Sings.
“When daizes pied, and violets blue,
“And lady-smocks all silver white,
“And cuckow buds of yellow hue,
“Do paint the meadow with delight;
-- 23 --
“The Cuckow then on every tree
“Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
“Cuckow!
“Cuckow! Cuckow! O word of fear,
“Unpleasing to a married ear!
“When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
“And merry larks are ploughman's clocks:
“When Turtles tread, and Rooks and Daws;
“And maidens bleach their summer smocks;
“The Cuckow then on every tree
“Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
“Cuckow!
“Cuckow! Cuckow! O word of fear,
“Unpleasing to a married ear!“
ARMADO.
A sweet touch—boy—thou art not brib'd to
rail thus against matrimony?—I do weigh the happiness
of that state by my own affection.—No more
slander then, sweet youth!
MOTH.
Crave your mercy, Sir.
ARMADO.
Come, come, let's away—there's company in
yonder grove.—I do protest my honour is much
questioned by my attachment to this wench.
[Exeunt.
Anon. [1762], The students. A comedy. Altered from Shakespeare's Love's Labours Lost, and Adapted to the stage (Printed for Thomas Hope [etc.], London) [word count] [S31500].
