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Moth. No Master, the Hobby-horse is but a Colt, and

your Love perhaps a Hackney :

But have you forgot your

Arm. Almost I had.

Love?

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: 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.

ter.

Arm. Fetch hither the Swain, he must carry me a Let

Moth. A Message well simpathiz'd; a Horse to be Embasfador for an Afs.

Arm. Ha, ha; what say'st thou ?

Moth. Marry Sir, you must send the Afs upon the Horse,

for he is very flow gated: 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 Me

tal heavy, dull and flow ?

Moth. Minime honest Master, or rather Master no.

Arm. I fay Lead is flow.

Moth. You are too swift Sir, to say fo.

Is that Lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a Gun ?
Arm. Sweet Smoak of Rhetorick;

He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he :
I shoot thee at the Swain.

Moth. Thump then, and I fly.

[Exit.

Arm. A most accute Juvenal, voluble and free of Grace;

By thy Favour, sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy Face.

Most rude Melancholly, Valour gives the Place.

My Herald is return'd.

Enter

Enter Moth and Costard.

Moth. A Wonder, Master, here's a Coftard broken in a Shin.

Arm. Some Enigma, some Riddle, no Lenvoy, begin. Coft. No Egma, no Riddle, no Lenvoy, no Salve, in the Male, Sir. O Sir, Plantan, a plain Plantan; no Lenvoy, no Lenvoy, or Salve, Sir, but Plantan.

Arm. By Vertue thou inforcest Laughter, thy filly Thought, my Spleen, the heaving of my Lungs provokes me to ridiculous Smiling: O pardon me my Stars, doth the inconfiderate take Salve for Lenvoy, and the word Lenvoy for a Salve ?

Moth. Do the Wife think them other, is not Lenvoy a Salve ?

(plain Arm. No Moth, it is an Epilogue or Discourse to make Some obfcure Precedence that hath tofore been fain.

Now will I begin your Moral, and do you follow with my
Lenvoy.

The Fox, the Ape, and the Humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Moth. Until the Goose came out of Door,
Staying the odds by adding four.

A good Lenvoy, ending in the Goose; would you defire

more?

Cost. The Boy hath fold him a Bargain, a Goose that's flat,
Sir your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat.
To fell a Bargain well is as cunning as fast and loofe.
Let me fee a fat Lenvoy, I that's a fat Goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither ;

How did this Argument begin?

Moth. By faying that a Costard was broken in a Shin.

Then call'd you for a Lenvoy.

Coft. True, and I for a Plantan ;

Thus came your Argument in ;

Then the Boys fat Lenvoy, the Goose that you bought.

And he ended the Market.

Arm. But tell me

Shin ?

how was there a Costard broken in a

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth,

I will speak that Lenvoy.

I

t

I Coftard running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the Threshold, and broke my Shin.
Arm. We will talk no more of this Matter.
Coft. 'Till there be more Matter in the Shin.
Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchise thee.
Cost. O, Marry me to one Francis, I smell some Lenvoy,
fome Goose in this.

Arm. By my sweet Soul, I mean setting thee at Liberty. Enfreedoming thy Person; thou wert immur'd, restrained, captivated, bound.

Coft. True, true, and now you will be my Purgation,

and let me loofe.

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, for the best ward of mine Honours is rewarding my Dependants. Moth, follow. [Exit. Moth. Like the Sequel I.

Signior Coftard adieu.

Coft. My sweet Ounce of Man's Flesh, my in-cony Jew:

Now will I look to his Remuneration.

Remuneration, O, that's the Latin Word for three Farthings: Three Farthings Remuneration, What's the Price of this Incle? five Farthings. No, I'll give you a Remuneration: Why? It carries its Remuneration: Why? It is a fairer Name than a French-Crown. I will never buy and fell out of this Word.

Enter Biron.

Biron. O my good Knave Costard, exceedingly well met. Coft. Pray you Sir, how much Carnation Ribbon may a Man buy for a Remuneration ?

Biron. What is a Remuneration?
Coft. Marry Sir, half-penny Farthing.

Biron. O, why then three Farthings worth of Silk.
Coft. I thank your Worship, God be with you.
Biron. O stay Slave, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my Favour, my good Knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall intreat.

Coft. When would you have it done, Sir?
Biron. O this Afternoon.

Coft. Well, I will do it Sir: Fare you well.

Biron. O thou knowest not what it is.
Coft. I shall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why Villain, thou must know it first.

Coft. 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 fee thou do commend
This seal'd up Counsel. There's thy Guerdon; go.

Coft. Guerdon, O fweet Guerdon, better than Remuneration, eleven Pence Farthing better: Most sweet Guerdon. I will do it, Sir, in Print: Guerdon, Remuneration.

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 Conftable.
A domineering Pedant o'er the Boy,
Than whom no Mortal more magnificent.
This whimpled, whining, purblind wayward Boy,
This Signior Junio's Giant Dwarf, Don Cupid,
Regent of Love-rimes, Lord of folded Arms,
Th' anointed Sovereign of Sighs and Groans:
Liege of all Loyterers, and Malecontents:
Dread Prince of Plackets, King of Codpieces.
Sole Emperator, and Great General
Of trotting Parators (O my little Heart!)
And I to be a Corporal of his Field,
And wear his Colours like a Tumbler's Hoop:
What? I love! I fue! I seek a Wife,
A Woman, that is like a German Clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of Frame,
And never going aright, being but 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,

[Exit.

Ay,

Ay, and by Heav'n, one that will do the Deed,
Tho' Argus were her Eunuch and her Guard;
And I to figh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! go too: It is a Plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty, dreadful, little Might.
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue and groan,
Some Men must love my Lady, and fome Joan.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

[Exit.

Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catherine, Lords,
Attendants, and a Forester.

Prin. WAS that the King that spur'd his Horse so hard

Against the steep unrifing of the Hill?

Boyet. I know not, but I think it was not he.
Prin. Who e'er he was, he shew'd a mounting Mind.
Well Lords, to Day we shall have our dispatch,
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then Forester, my Friend, where is the Bush
That we must stand and play the Murtherer in ?
For. Hereby 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, for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what ? First praise me, then again say no.

O short-liv'd Pride. Not Fair? alack for wo.
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;
Fair Payment for foul Words is more than due.
For. Nothing but Fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, fee, my Beauty will be sav'd by Merit.
O Heresie in fair, fit for these Days,

A giving Hand, though foul, shall have the Praife.

But

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