Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word; What lady is that fame ? Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rofaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit. Long. I befeech you, a word; What is the in the white? Boyet. A woman fometimes, an you faw her in the light. Long. Perchance, light in the light: I defire her name. Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to defire that, were a shame. Long. Pray you, fir, whose daughter? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. a Long. God's bleffing on your beard! Boyet. Good fir, be not offended: She is an heir of Faulconbridge. Long. Nay, my choler is ended. She is a moft fweet lady. Boyet. Not unlike, fir; that may be. Re-enter Biron. Biron. What's her name in the cap? [Exit Long. Boyet. To her will, fir, or fo. Biron. You are welcome, fir; adieu! с Boyet. Farewell to me, fir, and welcome to you. Exit 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. 'Too hot fheeps, marry! What lady is that fame ?]-Probably all the ladies were masked except the Princess. 2 God's blefing on your beard!]-Beftow more gravity on the wearer. welcome]-to the mirth I have afforded you. e welcome to you]-you have my free leave to depart. Too hot sheeps,]-Fire hips delicately pronounced in order to intro duce the enfuing witticisms. Boyet. Boyet. And wherefore not ships? с No fheep, fweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jeft? Boyet. So you grant pafture for me. 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: The civil war of wits were much better used On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused. Prin. With what? Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle, affected. e Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire: His heart, like an agat, with your print impressed, Proud with his form, in his eye pride expreffed : His tongue, all'impatient to speak and not see, Did stumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be; All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair, & To feel only looking on fairest of fair: Methought, all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye, As jewels in crystal for fome prince to buy; Who, tendring their own worth, from whence they were glafs'd, Did point out to buy them, along as you pass'd. we feed on your lips.]-" Graze on my lips." feveral]-fevered property, common to several. e behaviours]-faculties. To feed only by looking. POEMS. 415. fimpatient]-not to fee as well as speak. His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes, I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lye. hath Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Rof. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? [Singing. Moth. Concolinel Arm. Sweet air! - Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the fwain, bring him 'festinately hither; I muft employ him in a letter to my love. h quote]-indicate. i learns news of him.]-picks up his intelligence from him. * make paffionate]-charm, delight, ravish. feftinately]-speedily. Moth. Moth. Mafter, will you win your love with a "French brawl? Arm. How mean'ft thou? brawling in French? Moth. No, my compleat master: but to "jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; figh a note, and fing a note; fometime through the throat, as if you fwallow'd love with finging love; fometime through the nofe, as if you fnuff'd up love by fmelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the fhop of your eyes; with your arms crofs'd on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit 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, these are humours: ' these betray nice wenches-that would be betray'd without thefe; and make the men of note, (do you note men?) that are most affected to these. t Arm. But O,—but O— Moth. -the hobby-horse is forgot. Arm. Call'st thou my love, hobby horse? Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your French brawl?]-A dance. 。 canary]-caper. P old painting;]-where they were ufually concealed. complements,]-fine accomplishments. thefe betray &c.]-not only captivate the girls, but make the men, that affect them, taken notice of. my penny]-penny worth-alluding to an old tract, entitled a Penniworth of Wit.- penne. • But O,—but Ò—the hobby-horse is forgot.]-formerly a part of the May-Day games, but, together with the Friar, and Maid Marian, pu. ritanically left out of them, about Shakspeare's time; this lofs is regretted in the burthen of a ballad, which Hamlet humourously calls his epitaph, "For O, for O, the hobby-horfe is forgot." HAMLET, Act III, S. 2. Ham. love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love? Arm. Almoft I had. Moth. Negligent ftudent! learn her by heart. Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy. 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 instant: By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: 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 fwain; he muft carry me a letter. Moth. A meffage well fympathis'd; a horfe to be embaffador for an afs! Arm. Ha, ha, what fayeft thou? Moth. Marry, fir, you must fend the afs upon the horse, for he is very flow-gaited: But I go. Arm. The way is but short; away. Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and flow? Moth. Minimè, honest master; or rather, mafter, no. Arm. I fay, lead is flow. Moth. You are too "fwift, fir, to say so: Is that lead flow, which is fir'd from a gun ? Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetorick! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he: W Moth. "Thump then, and I flee. [Exit. fwift, fir, to fay fo:-] hafty, ready at replies-to fay fo fo foon. Thump]-Fire, go off. Arm. |