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

[Exit. Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu !

[Exit. Coft. My sweet 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 ! xvhy, 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.

Cost. 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 farthing's worth of silk.
Cost. I thank your Worship, God be with you.

Biron. O itay, 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 afternocn.
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 first.

Cof. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm, Sirrah, Coltard, I will infranchife thee. Cof: 0, marry me to one Francis ; I smell some l'envoy, fume goose in this.

Arm. By my sweet foul, I mean, setting thee at liberty; enfree doming thy perion; thou wert immur'd, reftrained, captivated, bound.

Coff. True, true; ard now you will be my purgation, and let me loose. Arm. I give, &c.


Coff. I will come to your Worship to-morrow morning,

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, Nave, 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 speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her; ask for her, And to her sweet hand see thou do commend This feal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.

Coft. Guerdon, -- O sweet guerdon ! better than remuneration, clevenpence farthing better : moit sweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.

[Exit. Biron. O! and I, forfooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; A very beadle to a humorous figh: A critic, pay, a night-watch constable ; 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, Dan Cupid, Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms, Th' anointed sovereign 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 sue! I seek 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 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; 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 Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty, dreadful, little, might.
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, lue, and grone:
Some men must love my Lady, and some Joan. [Èxit,






A pavilion in the park near the palace. Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords,

attendants, and a Forefter. Prin. AS that the King that spurr'd his horse

so hard Against the steep uprifing of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.

Prin. Whoe'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, Foreiter, 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 stand, where you may make the fairest shoot *.


the fairet shoot. Prin. I thank my beanty, I am fair, that shoot : And thereupon thou speak it the fairelt shoot.

For, Pardun me, Madam ; for I meant not so.

Prin. What, what? firit praise me, then again fay, no? O short-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo!

For. Yes, Madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is noi, praie cannot mend the brow,
Here, good my glass, take th's for selling true;
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.

Prin. See, ice, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in far, fit for there davs !
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But cone, the bow ; now mercy goes to kill,
And thooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, piiy would not let me do't:
If wounjing, then it was to shew my skill;
That more for prais., than purpose, meant ij kill,




Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealtht.
Cofi. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one

Lady Rosaline.
Prin. Othy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend

of mine.
Stand afide, good bearer.- Boyet, you can carve :
Break up this capon *.

Boyet. I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear.
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 beariieoils ; truth itself, that thou art lovely; more fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself; have commiferation on thy heroical

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And, out of question, so it is sometimes ;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;
When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

Boyet. Do not curs’d wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise-sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

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

Enter Coftard. Boyet. Here comes, &c. +

Cofft. God dig you den all; pray you, which is the head lady?
Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads,
Cofi. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ?
Prin. The thicket and the tallest,

Cofi. The thicket and the taileft; it is so, truth is truth.
An'my waste, mistress, were as flander as your wit,
One o' these maids girdles for my waist should be fit.
Are not you the chiet woman? you are the thickest here.

Prin. What's your will, Sir! what's your will!
Coff. I have, &c.

* Meaning the letter, as poulet in French fignifies both a cbicken anj a love-leiter, 2



vallal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua fet ejé upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, lo base and obscure vulgar!), videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame : he came, one ; Saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he come? to fee. Why did he see? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What saw be the beggar. Who overcame he ? the beggar. The conclusion is vittory: on whose side? the King's; the captive is inrich'd: on whose side the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose fide? the King's: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King, (for so stands the comparison); thou the beggar, for so witneeth thy lowliness. 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 thyself? me. Thus expefting thy reply, I profane uzy 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 Arnado, Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainst thee, thou lamh, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou strive, (poor soul), what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture 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. Else 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.



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