Arm.

Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

Mot.
Concolinel— [singing.

Arm.

Sweet air!—Go, tenderness of years; take &dagger2; this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love.

Mot.

Master, ^note will you win your love with a French brawl?

Arm.

How meanest thou? brawling in French?

Mot.

No, my compleat master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet ^note, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; ^note sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallow'd love with singing love; sometime through the nose ^note, as if you snuft up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms

cross'd on your thin-belly ^note 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, ^note14Q0195 these are humours: these betray nice wenches,—that would be betray'd without these; and make them men of note, (do you note me?) that ^note are most affected to these.

Arm.

How hast thou purchas'd this experience?

Mot.

By my penny ^note of observation.

Arm.

But, o, but, o,—

Mot.

—the hobby-horse is forgot.

Arm.

Call'st thou my love, hobby-horse?

Mot.

No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

Arm.

Almost I had.

Mot.

Negligent student! learn her by heart.

Arm.

By heart, and in heart, boy.

Mot.

And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.

Arm.

What wilt thou prove?

Mot.

A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without ^note, upon the instant: By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.

Arm.

I am all these three.

Mot.

And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.

Arm.

Fetch ^note hither the swain; he must carry me a letter.

Mot.

A message well sympathis'd; a horse to be embassador for an ass!

Arm.

Ha, ha; what sayest thou?

Mot.

Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the

horse, for he is very slow-gated: ^note But I go.

Arm.
The way is but short; away.

Mot.
As swift as lead, sir.

Arm.
The meaning ^note, pretty ingenious ^note?
Is not lead a metal, heavy, dull, and slow?

Mot.
Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.

Arm.
I say, lead is slow.

Mot.
You are ^note too swift, sir, to say so:
Is that lead slow, which is fir'd from a gun?

Arm.
Sweet smoke of rhetorick!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:—
I shoot thee at the swain.

Mot.
Thump then, and I flee. [Exit.

Arm.
A most acute juvenal; voluble ^note, and free of grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return'd. Re-enter Moth, with Costard limping.

Mot.

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

Arm.

Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy ^note; begin.

Cos.

No egma,14Q0196 no riddle, no l'envoy, no salve in the matter ^note, sir: ^note O, sir ^note, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve ^note, sir, but a plantan!

Arm.

By virtue, 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 ^note, l'envoy, for a salve?

Mot.

Do 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. ^note
I will ^note example it:14Q0197

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral: Now the l'envoy.

Mot.
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: Mot.
Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by adding four.

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

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

Arm.
Until ^note the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.

Mot. ^note
A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; Would you desire more?

Cos.
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; ay, that's a fat goose.

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

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

Cos.
True, and I for plantan; thus came your 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?

Mot.

I will tell you sensibly.

Cos.

Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy:—

Arm.
We will talk no more of this matter.

Cos.
'Till there be more matter in the shin.

Arm.
Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.

Cos.

O, marry me to one Frances;—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 immured ^note, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cos.

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 &dagger2; significant to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is &dagger2; remuneration; for the best ward of mine honour ^note, is, rewarding my dependants.—Moth, follow.

Mot.

Like the sequel, I.—Signior Costard, adieu.

Cos.

My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!— [Exeunt Moth, and Armado. Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! o, that's the latin ^note 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 French-crown ^note. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Bir.

O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.

Cos.

Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon

may a man buy for a remuneration?

Bir.

What ^note is a remuneration?

Cos.

Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.

Bir.

O, why then, three-farthing ^note-worth of silk.

Cos.
I thank your worship; God be wi' you!

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

Cos.

When would you have it done, sir?

Bir.

O, this afternoon.

Cos.

Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.

Bir.

O, thou knowest not what it is.

Cos.

I shall know, sir, when I have done it.

Bir.

Why, villain, thou must know first.

Cos.

I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.

Bir.

It must be done this afternoon: Hark, slave, it is but this;—

Cos.

Guerdon ^note,—O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet guerdon!—I will do it, sir, in print.—Guerdon ^note—Remuneration.

Bir.
O!—And I, forsooth,14Q0198 in love! I, that have been love's whip,
A very bedel to a humorous ^note sigh;
A critick; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!

This whimp'ring, ^note whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This signior Junio's giant-dwarf, ^note dan Cupid; ^note
Regent of love-rimes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents,
Dread prince of plackets, ^note king of cod-pieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting parators,—O my little heart!—
And I to be a corporal of his file, ^note
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What, what! I love? I sue? I seek a wife?
A woman, that is like a German ^note clock;
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going right, being a ^note watch,
But being watch'd that it may still 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 stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
Which Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and ^note groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [Exit.

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