Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu! Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you. [Exit Biron, Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jeft a word.

Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not fhips?

No sheep, fweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You fheep, and I pasture; fhall that finish the jeft?

Boyet. So you grant pafture for me,
Mar. Not fo, gentle beast;

My lips are no common, though feveral they be

Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles,

agree.

The civil war of wits were much better us'd

On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd. Boyet. If my obfervation, which very feldom lies, By the heart's ftill rhetorick, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre, is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected. Prin. Your reafon?

? My lips are not common, though one obferved that he grew fat; Jeveral they are.] Several Yes, faid Sir Walter Raleigh, any is an inclofed field of a private beast will grow fat, if you take proprietor; fo Maria fays, her him from the common and graze Yips are private property. Of a him in the feveral. Lord that was newly married

Boyet

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire

To the Court of his eye, peeping thorough defire:
His heart, like an agat with your print impreffed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expreffed:
His tongue, all impatient to fpeak and not fees,
Did stumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be:
All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair;
Methought, all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in cryftal for fome Prince to buy ;
Who tendring their own worth, from whence they
were glafst,

Did point out to buy them, along as you past.
His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes,
That all eyes faw his eyes inchanted with gazes:.
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

An' you give him for my fake but one loving kiss,
Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is difpos'd-
Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye
hath difclos'd;

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lye,

Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and fpeakést fkilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.

Rof. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

Arm. Sweet Air !-Go, tenderness of

years; take this key, give inlargement to the fwain; bring him feftinately hither: I muft imploy him in a letter to my love.

Moth. Mafter, will you win your love with a French brawl?

Arm. How mean'ft thou, brawling in French?

Moth. No, my compleat mafter; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet 2, humour it with turning up your eyelids; figh a note and fing a note; fometimes through the throat, as if you swallow'd love with finging love; fometimes through the nofe, as if you fnufft up love by fmelling love; with your hat penthoufe-like, o'er the fhop of your eyes; with your arms croft on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit on a fpit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a fhip and away: thefe are compliments *, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, and make the men of note: do you note men, that are moft affected to these?

Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience?
Moth. By my pen of obfervation,

Arm. But O, but O——

Moth. The hobby-horse is forgot+,

Arm.

only inveigle to young Girls, but make the Men taken notice of too, who affect them.

THEOBALD.

4 Arm. But O, but Q

Moth. The Hobby-horse is for got.] In the celebration of Mayday, befides the sports now used of hanging a pole with garlands, and dancing round it, formerly a boy was dreft up representing Maid Marian; another, like a Fryar; and another rode on a Hobby-borje, with bells jingling, and painted ftreamers. After the reformation took place, and Precifians multiplied, thefe latter

Arm. Call'st thou my love hobby-horse?

Moth. No, mafter; the hobby-horfe is but a colt * and you love, perhaps, a hackney: but have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almoft I had.

Moth. Negligent ftudent, learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

Moth. And out of heart, mafter all those three I will prove.

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live: And this by, in, and our of, upon the inftant: 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 meffage well fympathis'd; a horie to be embaffador for an afs.

Arm. Ha, ha; what say'st thou?

Moth. Marry, Sir, you must send the ass upon the horfe, for he is very flow-gated: but I go.

Arm. The way is but fhort; away.

Moth. As fwift as lead, Sir.

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

rites were look'd upon to favour of paganism; and then maid Marian, the fryar, and the poor Hobby-horfe, were turn'd out of the games. Some who were not fo wifely precife, but regretted the difufe of the Hobby-borje, no doubt, fatiriz'd this fufpicion of idolatry, and archly wrote the epitaph above alluded to. Now

Moth, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out, But ah! but ob!-humourously pieces out his exclamation with the sequel of this epitaph.

THEOBALD.

*Colt is a hot mad-brained unbroken young fellow, or fometimes an old fellow with youthful defires.

Moth.