excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampson's love, my dear Moth? Moth. A woman, master. Arm. Of what complexion? Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four. Arm. Tell me precisely, of what complexion? Moth. Of the feawater green, fir. Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, fir; and the best of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small reason for it. He, furely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was fo, fir; for fhe had a green wit. Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red. Moth. Moft maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under fuch colours. Arm. Define, define, welleducated infant. Moth. My father's wit and my mother's tongue affift me! Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, moft pretty and pathetical! Moth. If fhe be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known; Then, if she fear, or be to blame, A dangerous rhyme, master, 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 serve for the writing, nor the tune. Arm. I will have that fubject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digreffion by fome mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that that country girl that I took in the park with the irrational hind, Coftard; the deferves well Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master deferves. Arm. Sing, boy; my fpirit grows heavy in love. Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. Arm. I fay, fing. Moth. Forbear, till this company be past. [afide. Dull. Sir, the king's pleasure is, that you keep Coftard safe ; and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he muft faft three days a week. For this damfel, I must keep her at the park; fhe is allow'd for the daywoman. Fare you well. Arm. I do betray myself with blushing: maid. Jaq. 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. Jaq. Fair weather after you! Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. [Exeunt. Arm. Villain, thou fhalt faft for thy offence ere thou be pardoned. Coft. Well, fir, I hope, when I do it, I fhall do it on a full ftomach. Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd. N 2 Coft. Coft. I am more bound to you than your followers, for they are but lightly rewarded. Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up. Coft. Let me not be pent up, fir; I will be faft, being loose. Moth. No, fir, that were fast and loofe; thou fhalt to prison. Coft. Well, if ever I do fee the merry days of defolation that I have seen, fome fhall fee Moth. What shall fome fee? Coft. Nay, nothing, mafter Moth, but what they look upon. 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 Moth, with Coftard. Arm. I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her fhoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which is basest, 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 ftrength: yet was Solomon fo feduced; 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 second caufe will not ferve my turn; the passado he refpects not, the duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be ftill, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Affift me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am fure, I shall turn fonneteer. Devife, wit! write, pen! for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Exit. ACT ACT II. SCENE I. Before the king of Navarre's palace. Enter the princess of France, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, N° BOYET. TOW, madam, fummon up your deareft fpirits: Of all perfections that a man may owe, When she did ftarve the general world befide, Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Therefore Therefore to us feems it a needful course, Tell him, the daughter of the king of France, That are vowfellows with this virtuous king? Prin. Know you the man? Lord. I knew him, madam, at a marriage-feast, Mar. In Normandy faw I this Longaville; Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike; is't fo? Cath. The young Dumain, a wellaccomplish'd youth, Of all, that virtue love, for virtue lov'd. Most powerful to do harm, leaft knowing ill; For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, [Exit. And |