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Moth. Of the sea-water green, Sir.'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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. 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.
Before the king of Navarre's palace.
Enter the princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine,
Boyet, lords and other attendants,
Consider, whom the king your father fends;
PRIŃ. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but meado
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. (Exit. )
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so ;
Lord. Longueville is one.
Mar. I knew him, madam, at a marriage-feaft,
Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike. Is’t so?
Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.
Cath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplishd-youth ;