Moth. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complections?

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, Sampfen had fmall reafon 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 fhe be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;

For blufhing 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 fill her cheeks poffels the fame,
Which native fhe doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, mafter, against the reafon of white

and red.

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

Math. 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 deferves well

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

master.

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

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid.

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

Arm. I do betray myfelf with blufhing: maid,→→→
Jaq. Man,

Arm. I will vifit thee at the ledge.
Jaq. That's here by.

Arm. I know, where it is fituate:
Jaq. Lord, how wife you are!
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face?

Arm. I love thee.

Faq. So I heard you say.

Arm. And fo farewel.

Jaq. Fair weather after you!

Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. (7)

[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.

Arm. Villain, thou fhalt faft 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 shalt be heavily punish'd. Coft. I am more bound to you, for they are but lightly rewarded.

than your

followers;

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 halt

to prifon..

(7) Maid. Fair weather after you.

Come Jaquenetta, away.] Thus all the printed copies: but the editors have been guilty of much inad

quenetta is the only maid intended by the poet, and who is committed to the custody of Dul, to be convey'd by him to the lodge in the park. This being the cafe, it is evident to demonftration, that-Fair weather after you-must be fpoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull

fays to her, come Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the text.

Coft,

Coft. Well, if ever I do fee the merry days of defolation that I have seen, fome fhall fee

Moth. What fall fome fee?

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 fay nothing; I thank God, I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth with Coftard. Arm. I do affect the very ground (which is bafe) where her fhoe (which is bafer) guided by her foot (which is bafeft) doth tread. I fhall be forfworn, which is a great argument of falfhood, if I love. And how 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 Sampson was fo tempted, and he had an excellent ftrength; yet was Solomon fo feduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but-fhaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and fecond caufe will not ferve my turn; the Passado he respects not, the Duello he regards not; his difgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. Adieu, valour; ruit, rapier; be ftill, 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. Devile wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exeunt.

SCENE, before the King of Navarre's Palace. Enter the Princess of France, Rofaline, Maria, Catha rine, Boyet, Lords and other Attendants.

N

BOYET T.

deareft fpirits;

OW, madam, fummon up your
Confider, whom the King your father fends;
To whom he fends, and what's his embassy.

Yourself,

Yourfelf, 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 the did ftarve the general world befide, (8)
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 chapmen's 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 tafk the tafker; good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noife abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
'Till painful ftudy fhall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his filent court;
Therefore to us feems it a needful courfe,
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 folicitor.

Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On ferious bufinefs, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes perfonal conference with his Grace.
Hafte, fignify fo much, while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.
Boyet. Proud of employment, 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.

(8) When she did starve the general world befide,] Catullus has a compliment, much of this caft, to his Lefbia in his 87th epigram:

quæ cum pulcherrima tota eft,

Tum omnibus una omnes furripuit Veneres.

Prix

Prin. Know you the man?

Mar. I knew him, madam, at a marriage feaft.
Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge folemnized.

In Normandy saw I this Longaville,
A man of fovereign parts he is esteem'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 glofs,
(If virtue's glofs will ftain with any foil,)
Is a fharp wit, match'd with too blunt a will;
Whofe edge hath pow'r to cut, whofe 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 moft, that moft his humours know.
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.

Moft power to do most harm, least knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill fhape good,
And fhape to win grace, tho' he had no wit.
I faw him at the Duke Alanfon's once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthiness.-

Rofa. Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, as 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 occafion 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 expofitor)
Delivers in fuch apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales;
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So fweet and voluble is his difcourfe.

Prin. God bless my Ladies, are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished