« AnkstesnisTęsti »
Moth. No Mafter, the Hobby-horfe is but a Colt, and your Love perhaps a Hackney : But have you forgot your Love?
Arm. Almoft I had.
Moth. Negligent Student, learn her by heart.
Moth. And out of Heart, Mafter: All thofe three I will prove.
Arm. What wilt thou prove?
Moth. A Man, if I live (and this) by, in, and without, upon the Inftant: In Heart you love her, becaufe your Heart is in love with her; and out of Heart you love her, being out of Heart that you cannot enjoy her.
Arm. I am all these three.
Moth. And three Times as much more; and yet nothing at all.
Arm. Fetch hither the Swain, he muft carry me a Let
Moth. A Meffage well fimpathiz'd; a Horfe to be Embaf fador for an Afs.
Arm. Ha, ha; what fay'ft thou?
Moth. Marry Sir, you must fend the Afs upon the Horse, for he is very flow gated: But I go.
Arm. The way is but fhort; away.
Arm. Thy Meaning, pretty Ingenious? is not Lead a Metal heavy, dull and flow?
Moth. Minime honeft Master, or rather Mafter no.
Moth. You are too fwift Sir, to say so.
Is that Lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a Gun?
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:
Moth. Thump then, and I fly.
Arm. A moft accute Juvenal, voluble and free of Grace; By thy Favour, fweet Welkin, I muft figh in thy Face. Moft rude Melancholly, Valour gives the Place. My Herald is return'd.
Enter Moth and Coftard.
Moth. A Wonder, Mafter, here's a Coftard broken in a
Arm. Some Enigma, fome Riddle, no Lenvoy, begin. Coft. No Egma, no Riddle, no Lenvoy, no Salve, in the Male, Sir. O Sir, Plantan, a plain Plantan; no Lenvoy, no Lenvoy, or Salve, Sir, but Plantan.
Arm. By Vertue thou inforceft Laughter, thy filly Thought, my Spleen, the heaving of my Lungs provokes me to ridiculous Smiling: O pardon me my Stars, doth the inconfiderate take Salve for Lenvoy, and the word Lenvoy for a Salve?
Moth. Do the Wife think them other, is not Lenvoy a Salve ? (plain
Arm. No Moth, it is an Epilogue or Difcourfe to make
The Fox, the Ape, and the Humble-bee,
Moth. Until the Goose came out of Door,
A good Lenvoy, ending in the Goose; would
Coft. The Boy hath fold him a Bargain, a Goose that's flat, Sir your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To fell a Bargain well is as cunning as faft and loofe. Let me fee a fat Lenvoy, I that's a fat Goose. Arm. Come hither, come hither ;
How did this Argument begin?
Moth. By faying that a Coftard was broken in a Shin. Then call'd you for a Lenvoy.
Coft. True, and I for a Plantan ;
Thus came your Argument in ;
Then the Boys fat Lenvoy, the Goofe that you bought. And he ended the Market.
Arm. But tell me; how was there a Coftard broken in a Shin?
Moth. I will tell you fenfibly.
Coft. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth,
I will fpeak that Lenvoy.
I Coftard running out, that was fafely within,
Arm. We will talk no more of this Matter.
Arm. By my fweet Soul, I mean fetting thee at Liberty. Enfreedoming thy Perfon; thou wert immur'd, reftrained, captivated, bound.
Coft. True, true, and now you will be my Purgation, and let me loose.
Arm. I give thee thy Liberty, fet thee from durance, and in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this; bear this fignificant to the Country-Maid Jaquenetta; there is Remuneration, for the best ward of mine Honours is rewarding my Dependants. Moth, follow. [Exit.
Moth. Like the Sequel I.
Signior Coftard adieu.
Coft. My fweet Ounce of Man's Flesh, my in-cony Jew:
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? five Farthings. No, I'll give you a Remuneration: Why? It carries its Remuneration: Why? It is a fairer Name than a French-Crown. I will never buy and fell out of this Word.
Biron. O my good Knave Coftard, exceedingly well met. Coft. Pray you Sir, how much Carnation Ribbon may a Man buy for a Remuneration ?
Biron. What is a Remuneration?
Biron. O, why then three Farthings worth of Silk.
Coft. When would you have it done, Sir?
Coft. Well, I will do it Sir: Fare you well.
Biron. O thou knoweft not what it is.
Coft. I thall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Coft. I will come to your Worship to Morrow Morning.
Hark Slave, it is but this:
The Princefs 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,
Coft. Guerdon, O fweet Guerdon, better than Remuneration, eleven Pence Farthing better: Moft fweet Guerdon. I will do it, Sir, in Print: Guerdon, Remuneration.
Biron. O! and I forfooth in Love,
I that have been Love's Whip;
A very Beadle to a humorous Sigh: A Critick;
A domineering Pedant o'er the Boy,
Of trotting Parators (O my little Heart!)
And wear his Colours like a Tumbler's Hoop:
A Woman, that is like a German Clock,
Ay, and by Heav'n, one that will do the Deed,
A CT IV.
Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catherine, Lords,
"A S that the King that fpur'd his Horfe fo hard
For. Hereby upon the edge of yonder Coppice,
Prin. I thank my Beauty, I am fair that shoot,
For. Yes Madam, Fair.
Prin. Nay, never paint me now,
Where Fair is not, Praife cannot mend the Brow.
Prin. What, what? First praife me, then again fay no. O fhort-liv'd Pride. Not Fair? alack for wo.
For. Nothing but Fair is that which you inherit.