Coft. 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 fmile again, and until then, fit thee down, forrow. [Exeunt.

Arm.

SCENE changes to Armado's Houfe.

Enter Armado, and Moth.

BOY, what fign is it, when a man of great fpirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad. Arm. Why, fadness is one and the self-fame thing, dear imp.

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

Arm. How can't thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender Juvenile ?

Moth. By a familiar demonftration of the working, my tough Signior.

Arm. Why, tough Signior? why, tough Signior? Moth. Why, tender Juvenile? why, tender Juvenile? Arm. I fpoke it tender Juvenile, as a congruent epitheton, 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 praife.

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Moth. I will praise an eel with the fame 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'ft 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.

t

Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamefter.

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 deuce-ace amounts to.:

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.

Moth. Which the base vulgar call, three.

Arm. True.

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

Arm. A molt 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, fo am I 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 ranfom him to any French courtier for a new devis'd curt'fie. I think it fcorn to figh; methinks, I fhould out-fwear Cupid. Comfort me, boy, what great men have been in love?

Moth. Hercules, mafter.

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

Moth.

Moth. Sampfon, mafter; 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?

Meth. A woman, mafter,

Arm. Of what complection?

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

Arm. Tell me precifely of what complection?
Moth. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complections?

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 fmall 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. Moft 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 af

fift 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 fears by pale-white shown;

Then if the fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;

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

A dangerous rhime, mafter, against the reason of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

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Moth.

Moth. The world was guilty of fuch a ballad fome three ages fince, 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 fubject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreffion by fome mighty prefident. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; the deferves well

Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master.

Arm. Sing, boy; my fpirit 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.

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid.

Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is, that you keep Ca ftard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must faft three days a week. For this damfel, I must keep her at the park, the is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray my felf 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.

Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. (7)

[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. Arm.

(7) Maid. Fair Weather after you. Come, Jaquenetta, away.] Thus all the printed Copies: but the Editors have been guilty of much Inadvertence. They make Jaquenetta, and a Maid enter whereas Jaquenetta is the only Maid intended by the Poet, and who is committed

to

Arm. Villain, thou fhalt faft for thy offence, ere thou be pardoned.

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

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

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

Arm. Take away this villain, fhut him up.

Moth. Come, you tranfgreffing flave, away. Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will faft, being loose.

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

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

Moth. What shall some fee?

Coft. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prifoners to be filent in their words, and therefore I will fay nothing; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth with Coftard. Arm. I do affect the very ground (which is bafe) where her fhoe (which is bafer) guided by her foot (which is bafeft) doth tread. I fhall be forfworn, which is a great argument of falfhood, if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falfly attempted? love is a familiar, love is a devil; there is no evil angel but love, yet Sampson was fo tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon fo feduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-fhaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the firft and second cause will not serve my turn; the Paffado he refpects not, the Duello he regards not; his difgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. Adieu, valour; rust, rapier; be ftill, drum; for your manager is in love;

to the Cuftody of Dull, to be convey'd by him to the Lodge in the Park. This being the Cafe, it is evident to Demonftration, that- Fair Weather after you must be spoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull fays to her, Come, Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the Text.

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yea,