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riage; great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love.

Arm. O well-knit Sampson, ftrong jointed Sampson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didit me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampfon's love, my dear Moth?

Moth. A woman, master.

Arm. Of what complexion ?

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.

Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion ?
Moth. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?

Moth. As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had fmall reason for it. He, furely, affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green wit.

Arm My love is most immaculate white and red. Moth. Moft maculate thoughts, mafter, are mask'd under fuch colours.

Arm. Define, define, well educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, affift me!

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical!

Moth. If the be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown;

Then if the fear, or be to blame,
By this you fhall not know;

For ftill her cheeks poflefs the fame,
Which native the doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, mafter, against the reason of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

Moth. The world was guilty of fuch a ballad fome


three ages fince, but, I think, now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither ferve for the writing, nor the tune.

Arm. I will have that fubject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreffion by fome mighty prefident. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Coftard; the deserves well

Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my mafter.

Arm. Sing, boy; my fpirit grows heavy in love. Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. Arm. I fay, fing.

Moth. Forbear, 'till this company is past.

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid.

Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is, that you keep Cofard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must faft three days a week. For this damfel, I muft keep her at the park, fhe is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray my self with blushing: maid,-
Jaq. Man,

Arm. I will vifit thee at the lodge.

Jaq. That's here by.

Arm. I know, where it is fituate,

Faq. Lord, how wife you are!
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face ?

Arm. I love thee.

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Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offence, ere thou

be pardoned.

Coft. Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I fhall do it on a full ftomach.

Arm. Thou fhall be heavily punish'd.

Cof. I am more bound to you, than your for they are but lightly rewarded.

Arm. Take away this villain, fhut him up.
Moth. Come, you tranfgreffing flave, away.


Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will faft, being loofe.

Moth. No, Sir, that were faft and loofe; thou shalt to prison.

Coft. Well, if ever I do fee the merry days of defolation that I have seen, some shall see

Moth. What shall some see?

Coft. Nay, nothing, mafter Moth, but what they look upon. It is not for prifoners to be filent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth and Coftard. Arm. I do affect the very ground (which is bafe) where her fhoe (which is bafer) guided by her foot (which is baseft) doth tread. I fhall be forfworn, which is a great argument of falfhood, if I love. can that be true love, which is falfly attempted? love is a familiar, love is a devil; there is no evil angel but love, yet Sampfon was fo tempted, and he had an excellent ftrength; yet was Solomon fo feduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-shaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and second caufe will not ferve my

And how

enter whereas Jaquenetta is the only Maid intended by the Poet, and who is committed to the Cuftody of Dull, to be convey'd by him to the Lodge in the Park. This being the Cafe, it is evident to Demonstration, that-Fair Weather after you-must be spoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull fays to her, Come, Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated

the Text.


turn; the Paffado he refpects not, the Duello he regards not; his difgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. Adieu, valour! ruft, rapier! be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Affift me, fome extemporal God of rhime, for, I am fure, I fhall turn fonnet. Devife wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exit.


SCENE, before the King of Navarre's Palace.

Enter the Princess of France, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Boyet, Lords and other attendants.

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OW, Madam, fummon up your dearest fpirits;

To whom he fends, and what's his embaffy.
Your felf, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the fole inheritor

Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchlefs 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 ftarve the general world befide,
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 bafe fale of chapmens' tongues.
I am lefs proud to hear you tell my worth,
Than you much willing to be counted wife,
In fpending thus your wit in praise of mine.
But now, to task the tasker; good Boyet,


You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noife abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
'Till painful study fhall out wear three years,
No woman may approach his filent Court;
Therefore to us feems it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthinefs, we fingle you
As our beft-moving fair follicitor.

Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On ferious bufinefs, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes perfonal conference with his Grace.
Hafte, fignifie fo much, while we attend,
Like humble-vifag'd fuitors, his high will.
Boyet. Proud of imployment, willingly I go. [Exit.
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is fo;
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,

That are vow fellows with this virtuous King?
Lord. Longaville is one.

Prin. Know you the man?

Mar. I knew him, Madataiarriage-feaft,

Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge folemnized.

In Normandy faw I this Longaville,
A man of fovereign parts he is efteem'd;
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms,
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only foil of his fair virtue's gloss,
(If virtue's glofs will ftain with any foil,)
Is a fharp wit, match'd with too blunt a will;
Whofe edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should fpare none, that come within his power.
Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike; is't fo?
Mar. They fay fo moit, that most his humours

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

Cath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, Of all that virtue love, for virtue lov'd.


power to do most harm, least knowing ill;


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