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 ? He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he : 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 The Fox, the Ape, and the Humble-bee, A good Lenvoy, ending in the Goose; would you defire more? Cost. The Boy hath fold him a Bargain, a Goose that's flat, 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, 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? Biron. O, why then three Farthings worth of Silk. Coft. When would you have it done, Sir? Coft. Well, I will do it Sir: Fare you well. Biron. O thou knowest not what it is. Coft. I will come to your Worship to Morrow Morning. 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, 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; With two Pitch Balls stuck in her Face for Eyes, [Exit. Ay, Ay, and by Heav'n, one that will do the Deed, ACT IV. SCENE I. [Exit. Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catherine, Lords, 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. O short-liv'd Pride. Not Fair? alack for wo. Prin. Nay, never paint me now, A giving Hand, though foul, shall have the Praife. But |