Moth.
A wonder, master, here's a Costard broken in a shin.

Arm.
Some enigma, some riddle; come, thy l'envoy begin.

Cost.

No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, or salve, Sir, but plantan.

Arm.

By vertue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O pardon me, my stars! doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for a salve?

Moth.

Doth the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm.
No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain.
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.

I will example it. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy.

There's the moral, now the l'envoy.

Moth.
I will add the l'envoy; say the moral again.

Arm.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.

Moth.
Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by adding four.
A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; would you desire more?

Cost.
The boy hath sold him a bargain; a goose, that's flat;
Sir, your penny-worth is good, an' your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
Let me see a fat l'envoy; I, that's a fat goose.

Arm.
Come hither, come hither;
How did this argument begin?

Moth.
By saying, that a Costard was broken in a shin.
Then call'd you for a l'envoy.

Cost.
True, and I for a plantan;
Thus came the argument in;
Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought,
And he ended the market.

Arm.

But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Moth.

I will tell you sensibly.

Cost.
Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth.
I will speak that l'envoy.
Costard running out, that was safely 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.

Cost.

O, marry me to one Francis; I smell some 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.

Cost.

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, impose on thee nothing but this; bear this significant to the country-maid Jaquenetta; there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.—

Moth.

^{3 note}Like the sequele, I. Signior Costard, adieu.

Cost.

My sweet ounce of man's flesh, ^{4 note}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. ^{5 note}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.