Jaquenetta a Maid.
Dull.
Sir, 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 my self 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 wise you are!
Arm.
I will tell thee wonders.
-- 204 --
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 pardoned.
Cost.
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.
Arm.
Take away this villain, shut him up.
Moth.
Come, you transgressing slave, 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.
Cost.
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation
that I have seen, some shall see—
Moth.
What shall some see?
Cost.
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 basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn,
which is a great argument of falshood, if I love.
And how can that be true love, which is falsly 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
-- 205 --
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 Passado he
respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace
is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to subdue men.
Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for your
manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist 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.
[Exit.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
