Puslapio vaizdai

Moth. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green Wit. Arm. My Love is moft imaculate White and Red. Moth. Moft immaculate 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


: Arm. Sweet Invocation of a Child, moft pretty and pa thetical.

Moth. If the 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 shall not know,

For ftill her Cheeks poffefs the fame,
Which Native fhe doth owe.

A dangerous Rime, Mafter, against the Reason of White and Red.

Arm. Is there not a Ballad, Boy, of the King and the Beggar?

Moth. 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


Arm. I will have that Subject 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 Mafter.

Arm. Sing Moth, my Spirit grows heavy in Love.
Moth. And that's a great marvel, loving a light Wench.
Arm. I fay fing.

Moth. Forbear 'till this Company be paft.

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta and Maid. Dull. Sir, the Duke's Pleasure is, that you keep Coftar d fafe, and you must let him take no Delight, nor no Penance, but he must fast three Days a Week; for this DamVOL. I. D d


Damfel, I must keep her at the Park, fhe is allow'd for the
Day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray my felf with blushing: Maid.
Jag. Man.

Arm. I will vifit thee at the Lodge.
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.

Jaq. So I heard you fay.
Arm. And fo farewel.

Maid. Fair Weather after you.

Come Jaquenetta, away.

[Exeunt. Arm. Villain thou fhalt faft for thy Offences e'er thou be pardoned.

Coft. Well, Sir, I hope when I do it, I fhall do it on a full Stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

Coft. I am more bound to you than your Fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded.

Arm. Take away this Villain, fhut him up.
Moth. Come you tranfgreffing Slave, away.

Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir, I will be faft being loose.

Moth. No, Sir, that were faft and loofe; thou shalt to Prifor.

Coft. Well, if ever I do fee the merry Days of Defolation that I have feen, fome fhall fee.

Moth. What fhall fome fee?


Coft. Nay nothing, Mafter Moth, but what they look 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.

[Exit. Arm. I do affect the very Ground (which is bafe) where her Shoe (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 Strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good Wit. Cupid's But-fhaft is too hard for Hercules Club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's Rapier; the first and fecond Caufe will not ferve my turn; the Paffado he respects not, the Duello he regards not; his Difgrace is to be call'd Boy; but his Glory is to be fubdue Men. Adieu Valour, rust Rapier, be ftill Drum, for your Manager is in Love; yea, he loveth. Affift me fome extemporal God of Rime, for I am fure I fhall turn Sonnet. Devife Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole Volumes in Folio.



Enter the Princess of France, Rofaline, Maria, Catherine
Boyet, Lords and other Attendants.

Boyet. N

OW, Madam, fummon up your dearest Spirits,
Confider whom the King your Father fends;
To whom he fends, and what's his Embaffy.
Your felf, held precious in the World's Efteem,
To parley with the fole Inheritor

Of all Perfection that a Man may owe,
Matchlefs Navarre; the Plea of no lefs weight
Than Aquitain, a Dowry for a Queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear Grace,
As Nature was in making Graces dear,
When she did ftrave the general World befide,
And prodigally gave them all to you.

Prin. Good Lord Boyer, my Beauty though but mean,
Need not the painted flourish of your Praise;
Beauty is bought by Judgment of the Eye,
Not utter'd by bafe Sale of Chapmens 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 task the Tasker; good Boyet.
You are not ignorant, all-telling Fame
Doth noife abroad, the King has made a Vow,
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'Till painful Study fhall out-wear three Years,
No Woman may approach his filent Court;
Therefore to's feemeth it a needful courfe,
Before we enter his forbidden Gates,
To know his Pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your Worthiness, we fingle you
As our beft moving fair Sollicitor.
Tell him the Daughter of the King of France,
On ferious Bufinefs, craving quick Dispatch,
Importunes perfonal Conference with his Grace:
Hafte, fignifie fo much, while we attend,
Like humble vifag'd Sutors, his high Will.


Boyet. Proud of Imployment, willingly I go. Prin. All Pride is willing Pride, and yours is fo; Who are the Votaries, my loving Lords, that are Vow-fellows with this virtuous Duke

Lor. Longavile is one..
Prin. Know you the Man?

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Mar. I knew him, Madam, at a Marriage Feast,
Between Lord Perigort, and the beauteous Heir,
Of Jaques Faulconbridge folemnized.
In Normandy faw I this Longavile,
A Man of Sovereign Parts he is efteem'd;
Well fitted in the Arts, glorious in Arms,
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well,
The only Soil of his fair Virtue's Glofs,
(If Virtue's Glofs will ftain with any Soil.)
Is a fharp Wit match'd with too blunt a Will;
Whofe Edge has Power to cut, whofe Will ftill wills,
It should none fpare that come within his Power.

Prin. Some merry-mocking Lord belike, is't fo?
Mar. They fay fo moft, that mot his Humours know.
Prin. Such fhort-liv'd Wits do wither as they grow.
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 Shape good,
And Shape to win Grace, tho' he had no Wit.
I faw him at the Duke Alanzon's once,
And much too little of that Good I faw,
Is my Report to his great Worthiness.

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Rofa. Another of thefe 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 Wit,
For every Object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a Mirth-moving Jeft.
Which his fair Tongue (Conceit's Expofitor)
Dilivers in fuch apt and gracious Words,
That aged Ears play Truants 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,
With fuch bedecking Ornaments of Praise ?
Mar. Here comes Boyet.

Énter Boyet.
Prin. Now, what Admittance, Lord?

Boyet. Navarre had Notice of your fair Approach;
And he and his Competitors in Oath,
Were all addreft to meet you, gentle Lady,
Before I came: Marry thus I have learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the Field,
Like one that comes here to befiege his Court,
Than feek a Difpenfation for his Oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled House.
Enter the King, Longavile, Dumain, Biron, and Attendants.
Here comes Navarre,

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King. Fair Princefs, welcome to the Court of Navarre. Prin. Fair I give you back again, and welcome I have not yet: The Roof of this Court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the wide Fields, too bafe to be mine.

King. You fhall be welcome, Madam, to my Court.
Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.
King. Hear me, dear Lady, I have fworn an Oath.
Prin. Our Lady help my Lord, he'll be forfworn.
King. Not for the World, fair Madam, by my will.
Prin. Why, will fhall break it will, and nothing else.
King. Your Ladyfhip is ignorant what it is.
Prin. Were my Lord fo, his Ignorance were wife,



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