Where now his Knowledge muft prove Ignorance, But pardon me, I am too fudden bold, King. Madam, I will, if fuddenly I may. Rofa. How needlefs was it then to ask the Question? Rofa. 'Tis long of you that fpur me with fuch Questions. Biron. What Time a Day? Rofa. The Hour that Fools fhould ask. King. Madam, your Father here doth intimate Disburfed by my Father in his Wars. But fay that he, or we, as neither have, 1 An An hundred thoufand Crowns, and not remembers Which we much rather had depart withal, Dear Princefs, were not his Requests so far Prin. You do the King my Father too much Wrong, In fo unfeeming to confefs Receipt Of that which hath fo faithfully been paid. Prin. We arreft your Word: King. Satisfie me fo. Boyet. So pleafe your Grace, the Packet is not come, As you fhall deem your felf lodg'd in my Heart, Tho' fo deny'd farther Harbour in my Houfe: Your own good Thoughts excufe me, and farewel; To Morrow we fhall vifit you again. Prin. Sweet Health and fair Defires comfort your Grace. King. Thy own Wifh, with I thee, in every Place. [Exit. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own Heart. Rofa. Pray you do my Commendations; I would be glad to fee it. Biron. I would you heard it groan. Biron. Sick at the Heart. Rofa. Alack, let it Blood, Biron, Would that do it good? Rofa. My Phyfick fays ay. Biron, Will you prick't with your Eye. Biron. Now fave my Life. Rofa. And yours from long living. Beron. I cannot ftay Thanksgiving. Enter Dumain. [Exit. Dum. Sir, I pray you a Word; What Lady is that fame? Long. I befeech you a word: What is fhe in white? To defire that were a Shame. Long. Pray you Sir, whofe Daughter? She is a moft fweet Lady. Biron. What's her Name in the Cap? Boyet. Katherine by good hap. Biron. Is the wedded or no? Boyet. To her Will, Sir, or fo. Biron. You are welcome Sir: Adieu, [Exit Long Boyet. Farewel to me Sir, and welcome to you. [Ex. Biron, Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry Mad-cap Lord; Not a Word with him but a Jeft. Boyet. And every Jeft but a Word. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word. Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board. Mar. Mar. Two hot Sheeps, marry; (Lips. And wherefore not Ships? Boyet. No Sheep (fweet Lamb) unlefs we feed on your Mar. Not fo, gentle Beast; My Lips are no Common, though feveral they be. Mar. To my Fortunes and me. Prin, Good Wits will be jangling; but Gentles agree. This Civil War of Wits were much better us'd On Navarre and his Book-Men; for here 'tis abus'd. Boyet. If my Obfervation (which very feldome lyes, By the Heart's ftill Rhetorick, difclofed with Eyes) Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. Prin. With what? Boyet. With that which we Lovers intitle affected. Boyet. Why all his Behaviours do make their Retire Methought all his Senfes were lock'd in his Eye, (glaft, And you give him for my fake but one loving Kiss. Boyet. But to fpeak that in Words which his Eye hath I only have made a Mouth of his Eye, (difclos'd; By adding a Tongue which I know will rot lie. Rofa. Thou art an old Love-monger, and fpeake ft skil fully. Mar. He is Cupid's Grandfather, and learns News of him. Rofa. Rofa. Then was Venus like her Mother, for her Father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad Wenches? Arm. W Arble Child, make paffionate my Sense of hear ing. Moth. Concolinel.- Arm. Sweet Air; go Tenderness of Years; take this Key, give Inlargement to the Swain; bring him feftinately hither: I muft imploy him in a Letter to my Love. Moth. Will you win your Love with a French Braul? Moth. No my compleat Mafter, but to Jig off a Tune at the Tongue's End, canary to it with the Feet, humour it with turning up your Eye; figh a Note and fing a Note, fomething through the Throat : If you fwallow'd Love with Singing, love fometime through the Nofe, as if you fouft up Love by fmelling Love, with your Hat Penthouse-like o'er the Shop of your Eyes, with your Arms croft on your thinbelly Doublet, (like a Rabbet on a Spit) or your Hands in your Pocket, like a Man after the old Painting, and keep not too long in one Tune, but a Snip and away: These are Complements, thefe are Humours, thefe betray nice Wenches that would be betray'd without thefe, and make them Men of Note: Do you note Men that moft are affected to thefe ? Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this Experience? Moth. By my Pen of Obfervation. Arm. But O, but O. Moth. The Hobby-horfe is forgot. Arm. Call'ft thou my Love Hobby-horfe. Moth. |