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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 ?
Biron. O itay, slave, I must employ thee :
Coft. When would you have it done, Sir?
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
S CE N E
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;
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, ice, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealtht.
Boyet. I am bound to serve.
Prin. We will read it, I swear.
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
And, out of question, so it is sometimes ;
Boyet. Do not curs’d wives hold that self-sovereignty
Prin. Only for praise ; and praise we may afford
Enter Coftard. Boyet. Here comes, &c. +
Cofi. The thicket and the taileft; it is so, truth is truth.
Prin. What's your will, Sir! what's your will!
* 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: