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Moth. Of the sea-water green, Sir.'
Arm. Is that one of the four complexions ?
Moth. A3 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, surely, affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was so, Sir, for she had a green wit.
ARM. My love is most immaculate white and red.

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are 'mask'd under such colours.

ARM. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, aflist me !

ARM. Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical! Moth. If she 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 she fear, or be to blame,

By this you shall not know; For still her cheeks possess the same,

Which native she doth owe. A dangerous rbime, master, against the reason 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 some three ages since, but, I think, now ’tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither serve for the writing, nor the tune.

ARM. I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent.

man.

Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; she deserves well

Moth. 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 say, Ing.
Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is past.

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

Fare you well. ARM. I do betray myself with blushing; maid, JAQ. ManARM. I will visit thee at the lodge. jad. That's here by. ARM. I'know where it is situate. JAQ. Lord, how wise you are ! ARM, I will tell thee wonders. Jae. With that face? ARM. I love thee, JAQ. So I heard you say. ARM. And so farewel. Jag Fair weather after you ! Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. [Exeunt Dull and Jaq.

Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offence, ere thou be pardoned.

Cost. Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punith’d.
VOL. II.

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Cost. I am more bound to you, than your followers ; for they are but lightly rewarded,

ARM. Take away this villain, shut him up.
Moth. Come you transgressing slave, away.
Cost. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will faft, being loose.

Moth. No, Sir, that were fast and loose ; thou shalt to prison.

Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of defolation that I have seen, some shall see.

Moth. What shall some see ?

Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing ; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet.

[Exeunt Moth and Costard. Arm. I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe, whïch is baser, guided by her foot, which is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which is a great argument of falshood, if I love. And how can that be true love, which is fallly attempted ? Love is a familiar, love is a devil; there is no evil angel but love, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon so reduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-shast is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and second cause will not serve my turn; the Passado he respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. 'Adieu, valour! rust, rapier ! be still, drum ! for your manager is in love ; yea, he loveth. Afift me some extemporal God of rhime, for, I am sure, I shall turn sonneteer. Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.

Before the king of Navarre's palace.

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Enter the princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine,

Boyet, lords and other attendants,

BOY ET.
TOW, madam, fummon up your deareft fpirits ;

Consider, whom the king your father fends;
To whom he sends, and what's his embassy.
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the sole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre ; the plea, of no less weight
Than Aquitain, a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace,
Ás nature was in making graces dear,
When she did starve the general world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.

PRIŃ. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but meado
Needs not the painted Aourish of your praise;
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues,
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth,
Than you much willing to be counted wise,
la spending thus your wit in praise of mine.
But now, to talk the tasker ; good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad; Navarre hath made a vow,
'Till painful ftudy shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his filent court;
Therefore to us feems it a needful courfen

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Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair sollicitor.
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace.
Hafte, fignify so much, while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.

Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. (Exit. )

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so ;
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous king ?

Lord. Longueville is one.
Prin. Know you the man?

Mar. I knew him, madam, at a marriage-feaft,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge solemnized.
In Normandy faw 1 this Longueville,
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms,
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well,
The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss,
(If virtue's glofs will stain with any soil,)
Is a sharp wit, match'd with too blunt a wilt ;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should spare none, that come within his power.

Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike. Is’t so?
Mar. They say so most, that most his humours know.

Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest ?

Cath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplishd-youth ;

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