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shall be forsworn, (which is a great argument of falshood,) if I love: And how can that be true love, which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar; love is a devil: there is no evil angel but love. Yet Sampson was so tempted: and he had an excellent strength: yet was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very good wit. Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The first and second cause will not serve

my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me some extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall turn sonneteer. Devise wit; write pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exit.

SCENE I.

ACT THE SECOND.

Another part of the same.. A pavilion and tents at a distance.

Enter the Princess of France, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BUYET, Lords, and other Attendants.

Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits:

Consider who the king your father sends;
To whom he sends; and what's his embassy :
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem;
To parley with the sole inheritor

Of all perfections, that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitain; a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace,
As nature was in making graces dear,
When she did starve the general world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.

Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though

but mean,

Needs not the painted flourish of your praise;
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth,
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker,-Good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor:
Tell him, the daughter of the king of France,
On serious business, craving quick despatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humbly-visag'd suitors, his high will.
Boy. Proud of employment, willingly I go.

[Erit. Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is

SO.

Who are the votaries, my loving lords,

That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?
1 Lord. Longaville is one.
Prin.
Know you the man?
Mar. I know him, madam; at a marriage feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falzonbridge solemnized,
In Normandy saw I this Longaville:
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in his arms:
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well,
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,
(If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,)
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still
wills

It should none spare, that come within his power.

Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike;

is't so?

Mar. They say so most, that most his humours know.

Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?

Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accom

plish'd youth,

Of all, that virtue love, for virtue lov'd:
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace, though he had no wit.
I saw him at the duke Alençon's once;
And much too little of that good, I saw,
Is my report to his great worthiness.

Ros. Another of these students at that time
Was there with him: if I have heard a truth,
Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object, that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love;

That every one her own hath garnished

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Prin.

Re-enter BoYET.

Now, what admittance, lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach;

And he, and his competitors in oath,
Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
(Like one that comes here to besiege his court,)
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house.
Here comes Navarre. [The ladies mask.
Enter KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BIRON,
and Attendants.

King. Fair princess, welcome to the court of
Navarre.

Prin. Fair, I give you back again; and, welcome I have not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be yours; and welcome to the wild fields too base to be mine.

King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my

court.

Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.

King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.

Prin. Our Lady help my lord! he'll be for

sworn.

King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.

Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.

King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,

Where now his knowledge must prove ignor

ance.

I hear, your grace hath sworn-out house-keep

ing:

'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it:

But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold;
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

[Gives a paper. King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away; For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay. Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant
once?

Biron. I know, you did.
Ros.

To ask the question!
Biron.

How needless was it then

You must not be so quick. Ros. 'Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.

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Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o' day?

Ros. The hour, that fools should ask.
Biron. Now fair befall your mask!
Ros. Fair fall the face, it covers!
Biron. And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.
Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.

King. Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,)
Receiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the
which,

One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If then the king your father will restore
But that one half, which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.

Dear princess, were not his requests so far From reason's yielding, your fair self should make

A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the king my father too much

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Where that and other specialties are bound; To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me: at which interview, All liberal reason I will yield unto. Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand, As honour, without breach of honour, may Make tender of to thy true worthiness: You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; But here without you shall be so receiv'd, As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, Though so denied fair harbour in my bouse.

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Your own good thoughts excuse me, and fare- | No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your

well:

To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires comfort your grace!

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exeunt King and his Train. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own

heart.

Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
Ros. Is the fool sick?
Biron. Sick at heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?
Ros. My physick says, I.

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?

Ros. No poynt, with my knife.
Biron. Now, God save thy life!
Ros. And yours from long living!

Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is

that same?

Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her

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her name.

Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire
that, were a shame.

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's blessing on your beard!
Boyet. Good sir, be not offended:
She is an heir of Falconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be.

[Exit Long.
Biron. What's her name, in the cap?
Boyet. Katharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is she wedded, or no?
Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.
Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu!
Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to

you. [Exit Biron.-Ladies unmask. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;

Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

And every jest but a word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!
Boyet.

And wherefore not ships?

lips.

Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jest?

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

Mar.

[Offering to kiss her. Not so, gentle beast; My lips are no common, though several they be. Boyet. Belonging to whom? To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gen tles, agree:

Mar.

The civil war of wits were much better used On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.

Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom

lies,)

By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with

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Navarre is infected.

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 de

sire:

His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed,

Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed: His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be; All senses to that sense did make their repair, To feel only looking on fairest of fair: Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye, As jewels in chrystal for some prince to buy; Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glass'd,

Did

point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. His face's own margent did quote such amazes, That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes: I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his, An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. Prin. Comc, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd

Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath' disclos'd:

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?
Mar.
Boyet.

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[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 complements, 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 af fected to these.

Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?

Moth. By my penny of observation.
Arm. But 0,--but 0,—

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 go. Arm. The is but short; away.

way

Moth. As swift as lead, sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, duil, and slow? Moth. Minimè, honcst inaster; 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.

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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 MоTH 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: O, 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: 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.

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:

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

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well. Biron. O, 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,

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; 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, 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 Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; Giving him money.] for the best ward of mine honour, is, rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Erit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adicu.

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And to her white hand see thou do commend 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 guerdon !-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, giaut-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. [Exit.

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