Moth. the hobby-horse is forgot.

Arm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse?

Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.

Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: 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 of 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 swain; he must carry me a letter. Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be embassador for an ass!

Arm, Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

Moth. Marry, sir, you must send_the_ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited: But I go. Arm. The way is but short; away.

Moth. As swift as lead, sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?

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

Moth. Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no. Arm. I say, lead is slow.

Moth.

You are too swift, sir, to say so:

Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun?

Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetorick!

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:I shoot thee at the swain.

Moth

Thump then, and I flee. [Exit. Arm. A most acute juvenal: voluble and free of grace! By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face: Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place My herald is return'd."

Re-enter Moth and CostaRD.

Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in a shin,

Arm. Some enigma, some riddle;-come,―thy l'envoy; - begin.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy: no salve in the mail, sir: 0, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain!

Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling; 0, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve?

Moth, Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page; it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain

Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it:

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral: Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy: Say the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three:

Moth. Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by adding four.

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

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three: Arm. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.

Moth A good l'envoy, ending in the goose, Would you desire more?

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose; that's flat:

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat l'envoy: ay, that's a fat goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.

Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain; Thus came your argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; And he ended the market,

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Moth, I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; 1 will speak that l'envoy.

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
Cost. O, marry me to one Frances:- I smell some
l'envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

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

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Bear this significant to the country maid Jaqueneita: there is remuneration; [Giving him money.] for the best ward of mine honour, is, rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adieu. Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh!_my incony Jew![Exit MOTH Now will I look to his remuneration. Reinuneration! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings- remuneration.- What's the price of this inkle? a penny: No, Fll 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?

Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.

Biron, 0, why then, three-farthings-worth of silk. Cost. I thank your worship: God be with you! Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

pest

Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. 0, this afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well.
Biron. 0, thou knowest not what it is.

Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Biron, Why, villain, thou must know first.

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 band see thou do commend

ti This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.

[Gives him money.

Cost, Guerdon, O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet . gaerdon; I will do it, sir, in print. -Guerdon remuneration.

[Exit,

Biron. O! 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-rhymes, 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?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes:

Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard;
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

[Exil.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Another part of the same.

Enter the Princess, ROSALINe, Maria, KatHARINE, BOYET, 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, And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Prin, What, what? first praise me, and again say, no? O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe! For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin
Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[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.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.-
But come, the bow:-Now mercy goes to kill,