To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, Mar. agree: The civil war of wits were much better used Prin. With what? Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. Prin. Your reason? Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire : Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye, Did point you to buy them, along as you pass' I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? Enter Armado and Moth. Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing: Moth. Concolinel [Singing. Arm. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love. * Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl†? Arm. How mean'st thou? brawling in French? Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary‡ to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: These are compliments, these are humours; these betray nice wenches-that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note (do you note, men?) that most are affected to these. * Hastily. +A kind of dance. VOL. JI. Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience? Moth. By my penny of observation. 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. 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 ambassador 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. Minimè, 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? * Quick, ready. 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; 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. Moth. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, sir: O, sir, plaintain, a plain plaintain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plaintain! Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O, 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. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, There's the moral: Now the l'envoy. Moth. I will add the l'envoy: Say the moral again. * A head. An old French term for concluding verses, which served either to convey the moral, or to address the poem to some person. Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 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: I will speak that l'envoy : I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. |