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Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
[Exit BIRON.- Ladies unmask. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest.
Boyet. And every jest but a word.
word. Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board. Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!
Boyet. And wherefore not ships ?
[Offering to kiss her. Mar. Not so, gentle beast; My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Prin. Good wils will be jangling: but, gentles, agree:
Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies) By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Prin. With what?
Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos'd
disclos’d: I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie. Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak’st skil
fully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of
him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father
is but grim.
SCENE I.- Another part of the same.
· Enter ARMADO and Moth. Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of
: hearing. Moth. Concolinel
[Singing. Arm. Sweet air !-Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love,
Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
Arm. How mean'st thou? brawling in French ? Moth. No, my complete 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; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed 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 betrayed without these; and make them men of note, (do you note, men ?) that most are affected to these.
Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience ?
Arm. Almost I had. .
Moth. And out of heart, master: all those 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, because 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 must carry me a letter.
Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be embassador for an ass !
Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?
Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited : But I go.
Arm. The way is but short; away. Moth. As swift as lead, sir.
Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? Moth. Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no. Arm. I say, lead is slow.
Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so: Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric ! He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:I shoot thee at the swain. Moth. Thump then, and I flee.
[Erit. Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace! By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face: Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. My herald is returned.
Re-enter Moth and Costars. Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in
a shin. Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come,—thy l'envoy;
-begin. Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, sir: 0, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain !
Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: 0, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve ?
Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l'encoy a salve ?