bear this fignificant to the country-maid Jaquenetta, there is remuneration; for the beft ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.— [Exit.

Moth. Like the fequel, I. Signior Coftard, adien ! [Exit. Coft. My fweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony jewel! 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? a penny. No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it. Remuneration ! why, it is a fairer name than a French crown. I will never buy and fell out of this word.

SCENE III.

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 filk,
Coft. I thank your Worfhip, God be with you.
Biron. O ftay, flave, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave,
Do one thing for me that I fhall intreat.
Goft. 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 fhall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

Coft. Till there be more matter in the fhin.

Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchise thee.

Coft. O, marry me to one Francis; I fmell fome l'envoy, f.me goofe in this.

Arm. By my fweet foul, I mean, fetting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy perion; thou wert immur'd, restrained, captivated, bound.

Coft. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loofe.

Arm, I give, &c.

Coft.

Coft. I will come to your Worship to-morrow morning. Biron. It must be done this afternoon.

Hark, flave, it is but this:

The Prince's comes to hunt here in the park:
And in her train there is a gentle lady;

When tongues fpeak fweetly, then they name her name,
And Rofaline they call her; afk for her,

And to her fweet hand fee thou do commend This feal'd-up counfel. There's thy guerdon; go. Coft. Guerdon,- O fweet guerdon! better than remuneration, elevenpence farthing better: moít fweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.[Exit.

Biron. O! and I, forfooth, in love!

1, that have been love's whip;

A

very beadle to a humorous figh:

A critic; nay, a night-watch conftable;

A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal more magnificent.

This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, i
This Signior Junio's giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed fovereign of fighs and groans:
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents:
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces:
Sole imperator, and great general

Of trotting parators: (O my little heart!)
And I to be a corporal of his file,

And wear his colours! like a tumbler, stoop!
What? I love! I fue! I feek 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 ftill 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 ftuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and by Heav'n, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard;
And I to figh for her! to watch for her!

Τα

pray for her! go to :-it is a plague,

That

That Cupid will impofe for my neglect

Of his almighty, dreadful, little, might.

Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue, and grone: Some men must love my Lady, and some Joan. [Exit,

ACT

IV.

SCENE

I.

A pavilion in the park near the palace.

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords, attendants, and a Forefter.

Prin.

AS that the King that fpurr'd his horfe fo hard

WA

Against the steep uprifing of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he fhew'd a mounting mind.
Well, Lords, to-day we fhall have our difpatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

Then, Forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in ?

For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A ftand, where you may make the faireft fhoot *.

Boyet

the faireft fhoat.

Prin. I thank my beanty, I am fair, that shoot: And thereupon thou speak ft the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, Madam; for I meant not fo.

Prin. What, what? firit praife me, then again say, no?
O fhort-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 glafs, take this for selling true;
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, lee, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefy in fair, fit for these days!

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow; now mercy goes to kill,
And fhooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I fave my credit in the shoot,

Not wounding, pity would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to fhew my skill;

That more for praife, than purpose, meant to kill,

Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealtht. Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron to one Lady Rofaline.

Prin. O thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend.

of mine.

Stand afide, good bearer.

Break up this capon *.

Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

-Boyet, you can carve:

This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I fwear.

Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet reads.

BY heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itfelf; have commiferation on thy heroical

And, out of question, fo it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted crimes;

When for fame's fake, for praife, an outward part,

We bend to that the working of the heart.

As I for praife alone now feek to fpill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

Boyet. Do not curs'd wives hold that felf-fovereignty

Only for praife-fake, when they strive to be

Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise; and praise we may afford To any lady that fubdues her lord.

+

Boyet. Here comes, &c.

commonwealth.

Enter Coftard.

Coft. God dig you den all; pray you, which is the head lady?
Frin. Thou fhalt know her, fellow, by the reft that have no heads,

Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the higheft?

Prin. The thickest and the tallest,

Cof. The thickeft and the tallest; it is fo, truth is truth.

An'

my wafte, miftrefs, were as flander as your wit,

One o' thefe maids girdles for my waift fhould be fit.

Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.
Prin. What's your will, Sir! what's your will!

Caft. I have, &c.

* Meaning the letter, as poulet in French fignifies both a chicken and a love-letter.

2.

vafal.

vaffal. The magnanimous and moft illuftrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly fay, Veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (0 base and obfcure vulgar!), videlicet, He came, faw, and overcame: he came, one; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What faw he? the beggar. Who overcame he? the beggar. The conclufion is victory: on whofe fide? the King's; the captive is inrich'd: on whofe fide? the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whofe fide? the King's: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King, (for fo ftands the comparison); thou the beggar, for fo witneeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I inforce thy love? I could. Shall I intreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags robes; for tittles? titles: for thyfelf? me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine in the dearest design of industry,

Don Adriano de Armado.

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standeft as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play.

But if thou ftrive, (poor foul), what art thou then? Food for his rage, repafture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this

letter?

What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style. Prin. Elfe your memory is bad, going o'er it ere

while.

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here

in court,

A phantasm, a monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou, fellow, a word:

Who gave thee this letter?

VOL. II.

Y

Caft.