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Cost. I had rather pray a month with;mutton and porridge.

King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.My lord Biron see him deliver'd o'er.And go we, lords, to put in practice that . .. Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.

[Exeunt. Biron, I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,

These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.Sirrah, come on,

Cost. 1 suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl ; and therefore, Welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Aliction may one day smile again, and till then, Sit thee down, sorrow! i

[Ereunt.

SCENE II.

Another part of the same. Armado's House.

Enter ARMADO and Moth. Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy? Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.

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

Arm. How can’st thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?

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Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.

Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior? Moth. Why tender juvenal? Why tender juvenal?

Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.

Moth. And I, tough senior, 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 saying pretty?

Arm. Thou pretty, because 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 say, thou art quick in answers : Thou heat'st my blood.

Moth. I am answer'd, sir.
Arm. I love not to be cross'd.

Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses love not him?

[Aside. Arm. I have promised to study three years with the duke.

Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir.

Arm. Impossible,
Moth. How many is one thrice told?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir.

Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a complete man.

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. . Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three. Arm. True.

Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink: and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you 10.

Arm. A most fine figure!
Moth. To prove you a cypher.

[Aside. Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love: and, as it is base for a soldier to love, so I am in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devis'd court'sy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: What great men have been in love?

Moth. Hercules, master.
Arm. Most sweet Hercules!—More authority, dear

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