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three farthings—remuneration– Ihat's the price of this inkle? a penny.—No, r'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it.-Remuneration !-why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.
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?
Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee :
Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Cost. I will come to your worship to morrow morning.
Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this ;The princess comes to hunt here in the park, And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her
name, And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
[Gives him money. Cost. Guerdon,-0 sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print.-Guerdon-remuneration.
[Erit. Biron. 0!-And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; A very beadle to a humorous sigh; A critick; nay, a night-watch constable; A domineering pedant o'er the boy, Than whom no mortal so magnificent! This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy; This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, Sole imperator, and great general Of trotting paritors,–O my little heart! And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife! A woman, that is like a German clock, Still a repairing; ever out of frame; And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Another Part of the same.
Enter the Princess, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE,
Boyer, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester. Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse so
hard Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind. Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch; On saturday we will return to France. Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush, That we must stand and play the murderer in?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
For. Yes, madam, fair..
Nay, never paint me now;
[Giving him money. Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.