Armado.

Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing.

Moth.

Concolinel.—

Arm.

Sweet air; go tenderness of years; take this key, give inlargement to the swain; bring him festinately hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my love.

Moth.

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

Arm.

How mean'st thou, brawling in French?

Moth.

No my compleat master, but to jig 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: if you swallow'd love with singing, love sometime through the nose, as if you snuft up love by smelling

love, with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes, with your arms crost on your thinbelly 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 would be betray'd without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these?

Arm.

How hast thou purchas'd this experience?

Moth.

By my pen of observation.

Arm.

But O, but O—

Moth.

The hobby-horse is forgot.

Arm.

Call'st thou my love hobby-horse?

Moth.

No master, the hobby-hose is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney: but have you forgot your love?

Arm.

Almost I had.

Moth.

Negligent student, learn her by heart.

Arm.

By heart, and in heart boy.

Moth.

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

Arm.

What wilt thou prove?

Moth.

A man, if I live. (And this) by, in, and out of: 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.

Moth.

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

Arm.

Fetch hither the swain, he must carry me a letter.

Moth.

A message well sympathiz'd; a horse to be embassador for an ass.

Arm.

Ha, ha; what say'st thou?

Moth.

Marry Sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow gated: but I go.

Arm.

The way is but short; away.

Moth.

As swift as lead, Sir.

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

Moth.
Minimè honest master, or rather master no.

Arm.
I say lead is slow.

Moth.
You are too swift Sir, to say so.
Is that lead slow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun?

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

Moth.
Thump then, and I fly. [Exit.

Arm.
A most acute Juvenile, voluble 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.

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