COST. This maid will ferve my turn, Sir.

KING. Sir, I will pronounce fentence; you shall fast a week with bran and water,

COST. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

KING. And Don Armado fhall be your keeper. My lord Biron, fee him deliver'd o'er.

And go we, lords, to put in practice that,

Which each to other hath fo ftrongly sworn.

BIRON. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle fcorn.

Sirrah, come on.

COST. I fuffer for the truth, Sir: for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore welcome the four cup of profperity: affliction may one day smile again, and until then, fit thee down, forrow.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. Changes to Armado's house.

Enter Armado and Moth.

ARM. Boy, what fign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?

MOTH. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad.

ARM. Why, fadness is one and the felf-fame thing, dear imp.

MOTH. No, no; O lord, Sir, no.

ARM. How can'ft thou part fadnefs and melancholy, my tender Juvenile ?

MOTH. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough Signior.

ARM. Why, tough Signior? why, tough Signior?

MOTH. Why, tender Juvenile? why, tender Juvenile ? ARM. I spoke it, tender Juvenile, as a congruent epithe

ton, appertaining to thy young days which we may nominate tender.

MOTH. And I, tough Signior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough.

ARM. Pretty and apt.

MOTH. How mean you, Sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my faying pretty?

ARM. Thou pretty, becaufe little.

MOTH. Little! pretty, because little; wherefore apt?

ARM. And therefore apt, because quick.

MOTH. Speak you this in my praise, master?

ARM. In thy condign praise.

MOTH. I will praise an eel with the same praise.

ARM. What? that an eel is ingenious.

MOTH. That an eel is quick.

ARM. I do fay, thou art quick in anfwers. Thou heat'st my blood

MOTH. I am answer'd, Sir.

ARM. I love not to be croft.

MOTH. He speaks the clean contrary, croffes love not him.

ARM. I have promis'd to study three years with the king. MOTH. You may do it in an hour, Sir.

ARM. Impoffible.

MOTH. How many is one thrice told?

ARM. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit of a tapfter. MOTH. You are a gentleman and a gamester.

ARM. I confefs both; they are both the varnish of a compleat man.

MOTH. Then, I am fure, you know how much the grofs fum of duce-ace amounts to.

ARM. It doth amount to one more than two.

MOTH. Which the bafe vulgar call, three.

ARM. True.

MOTA. Why, Sir, is this fuch a piece of study? now here's three studied ere you'll thrice wink; and how easy is it to put years to the word three, and ftudy three years in two words, the dancing-horse will tell you.

ARM. A most fine figure.

MOTH. To prove you a cypher.

ARM. I will hereupon confefs, I am in love; and, as it is bafe for a foldier to love, so I am in love with a base wench. If drawing my fword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take defire prisoner; and ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devis'd curt'fy. I think it fcorn to figh; methinks, I fhould out-fwear Cupid. Comfort me, boy; what great men have been in love?

MOTH. Hercules, master.

ARM. Moft fweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, fweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

MOTH. Sampson, master; he was a man of good carriage; great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love.

ARM. O well-knit Sampfon, ftrong-jointed Sampson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampfon's love, my dear Moth?

MOTH. A woman, master.

ARM. Of what complexion?

MOTH. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.

ARM. Tell me precifely of what complexion ?

MOTH. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

ARM. Is that one of the four complexions?

MOTH. As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too. ARM. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small reason for it. He, furely, affected her for her wit. MOTH. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green wit.

ARM. My love is most immaculate white and red.

MOTH. Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under fuch colours.

ノ ARM. Define, define, well-educated infant.

MOTH. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, affist me!

ARM. Sweet invocation of a child, moft pretty and pathetical!

MOTH. If the be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;

For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And tears by pale-white shown;

Then if the fear, or be to blame,

By this you shall not know;

For ftill her cheeks poffefs the fame,
Which native the doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, master, against the reafon of white and red.

ARM. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the king and the beggar ?

MOTH. The world was guilty of such a ballad fome three ages fince, but, I think, now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither ferve for the writing, nor the tune. ARM. I will have that fubject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreffion by fome mighty precedent.

Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; fhe deferves wellMOTH. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master.

ARM. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.

MOTH. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. ARM. I fay, fing.

MOTH. Forbear, 'till this company is past.

SCENE IV. Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta. DULL. Sir, the King's pleasure is, that you keep Coftard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must fast three days a-week. For this damfel, I must keep her at the park, fhe is allow'd for the day-wo man. Fare you well.

ARM. I do betray myself with blushing; maid,-
JAQ. Man-

ARM. I will vifit thee at the lodge.

JAQ That's here by.

ARM. I'know where it is fituate.

JAQ Lord, how wife you are!

ARM. I will tell thee wonders.

JAQ. With that face?

ARM. I love thee.

JAQ. So I heard you say.

ARM. And fo farewel.

JAQ Fair weather after you!

DULL. Come, Jaquenetta, away. [Exeunt Dull and Jaq. ARM. Villain, thou shalt faft for thy offence, ere thou be pardoned.

COST. Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I fhall do it on a full ftomach.

ARM. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

VOL. II.