ACT III.

SCENE I.

W

The park; near the palace.

Enter Armado and Moth.

ARMAD 0.

'ARBLE, child; make paffionate my sense of

hearing.

MOTH. Concolinel

[Singing. ARM. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain; 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 master; but to jigg off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, 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 penthouse 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 fnip and away: these are compliments, thefe 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 most affected to these?

ARM. How haft thou purchas'd this experience?
MOTH. By my pen of observation.

ARM. But O, but O

MOTH. The hobby-horfe is forgot.

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

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

ARM. Almost I had.

MOTH. Negligent ftudent, learn her by heart.

ARM. By heart, and in heart, boy.

MOTH. And out of heart, master: all thofe three I will prove.

ARM. What wilt thou prove?

MOTH. A man, if I live: And this BY, IN, and OUT 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 or 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 fwain, he must carry me a letter. MOTH. A meffage well fympathis'd; a horse to be embaffador for an afs.

ARM. Ha, ha; what fay'ft thou?

MOTH. Marry, Sir, you must send the afs upon the horse, for he is very flow-gated: but I go,

ARM. The way is but short; away.
MOTH. As fwift as lead, Sir.

ARM. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?

Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and flow?

MOTH. Minimè, honeft master: or rather, master, no. ARM. I fay, lead is flow.

MOTH. You are too fwift, Sir, to say so.

Is that lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun?

ARM. Sweet fmoak of rhetorick!

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:

Í shoot thee at the fwain.

MOTH. Thump then, and I Äy.

[Exit.

ARM. A most acute Juvenile, võluble and free of grace; By thy favour, fweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is return'd.

SCENE II. Re-enter Moth and Costard.

MOTH. A wonder, mafter, here's a Coftard broken in a fhin.

ARM. Some enigma, fome riddle; come,-thy l'envoy -begin.

COST. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no falve in the male, Sir. O Sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantain.

ARM. By virtue, thou enforceft laughter; thy filly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous fmiling: O pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconfiderate take falve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for a falve?

MOTH. Doth the wife think them other? is not l'envoy a falve?

ARM. No, page, it is an epilogue or difcourfe, to make plain

Some obfcure precedence that hath tofore been fain.

I will example it. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble bee,

Were ftill at odds, being but three.

There's the moral, now the l'envoy.

MOTH. I will add the l'envoy; fay the moral again.
ARM. The fox, the ape, and the humble bee,

Were still at odds, being but three.

MOTH. Until the goofe came out of door,

And stay'd the odds by adding four.

A good l'envoy, ending in the goofe; would you defire more? COST. The boy hath fold him a bargain; a goose that's

flat;

Sir, your penny-worth is good, an' your goofe be fat.
To fell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
Let me fee a fat l'envoy; that's a fat goofe.

ARM. Come hither, come hither;

How did this argument begin?

MOTH. By faying, that a Costard was broken in a shin,

Then call'd you for a l'envoy.

COST. True, and I for a plantain;

Thus came the argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goofe that

And he ended the market.

you bought,

ARM. But tell me; how was there a Coftard broken in a

thin?

MOTH. I will tell you fenfibly.

COST. Thou, haft no feeling of it, Moth.

I will speak that l'envoy.

Coftard running out, that was fafely within, Fell over the threshold, and broke my fhin. ARM. We will talk no more of this matter. COST. "Till there be more matter in the fhin.

ARM. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchise thee.

COST. O, marry me to one Francis; I fmell fome l'envoy fome goofe in this.

ARM. By my fweet foul, I mean, setting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy perfon; thou wert immur'd, restrained, captivated, bound..

COST. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

ARM. I give thee thy liberty, fet thee from durance, and, in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this: bear this fignificant to the country maid Jaquenetta; there is remuneration; [Giving him fomething.] for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow. [Exit. MOTH. Like the fequel, I. Signior Coftard, adieu.

[Exit.

COST. My fweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony Jew!. Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings remuneration.What's the price of this incle? a penny: No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it.-Remuneration!-why, it is a fairer name than a French crown. I will never buy and fell out of this word.

SCENE III. Enter Biron.

BIRON. O my good knave Costard, exceedingly well met. COST. Pray you, Sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?

BIRON. What is a remuneration?

COST. Marry, Sir, half-penny farthing.

BIRON. O, why then three farthings worth of filk.

COST. I thank your worship. God be with you.

BIRON. O ftay, lave, I must employ thee:

As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave,
Do one thing for me that I fhall intreat.