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Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own


Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would you heard it groan.

Ros. Is the fool sick?

Biron. Sick at the heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Ros. My Physic says, I.1

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?

Ros. No point, with my knife.

Biron. Now, God save thy life!
Ros. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.


Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word. What lady is that


Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.

[Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word. What is she in the


Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.

Long. Perchance, light in the light. I desire her


Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that, were a shame.

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's blessing on your beard!
Boyet. Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be. [Exit LONG.

1 The old spelling of the affirmative particle ay is here retained for the sake of the rhyme.

2 Point, in French, is an adverb of negation, but, if properly spoken, is not sounded like the English word. A quibble was, however, intended.

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Biron. What's her name, in the cap?
Boyet. Katharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is she wedded, or no?

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.

Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu!

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.

And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his


Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to


Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!


And wherefore not ships?

No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish

the jest?

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.


[Offering to kiss her. Not so, gentle beast;

My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?


To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling, but, gentles,


The civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.
Boyet. If my observation, (which, very seldom


By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. Prin. Your reason?

1 A quibble is here intended upon the word several, which, besides its ordinary signification of separate, distinct, signified also an inclosed pasture, as opposed to an open field or common. Bacon and others used it in this sense.

Boyet. Why, all his behaviors did make their retire, To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire; His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed; His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,1 Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; All senses to that sense did make their repair, To feel only looking on fairest of fair. Methought, all his senses were locked in his As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glassed,


Did point you to buy them along as you passed.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposedBoyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath disclosed.

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 skilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news

of him.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?



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1 Although the expression in the text is extremely odd, yet the sense appears to be, that his tongue envied the quickness of his eyes, and strove to be as rapid in its utterance, as they in their perception.

2 In Shakspeare's time, notes, quotations, &c. were usually printed in the exterior margin of bocks.



Another part of the same.

Enter ARMADO and MOTH.

Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of


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?2

Arm. How mean'st thou ? brawling in French?

Moth. No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary3 to it with your feet, humor it with turning up your eyelids; 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 penthouselike 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 humors; these betray nice wenches-that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note, (do you note, men? 5) that most are affected to these.

1 A song is apparently lost here. In old comedies, the songs are frequently omitted. On this occasion, the stage direction is generally Here hey sing or Cantant.

A kind of dance; spelled bransle by some authors; being the French name for the same dance.

3 Canary was the name of a sprightly dance, sometimes accompanied by the castanets.

4 i. e. accomplishments.

5 One of the modern editors proposes to read "do you note me?"

Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Moth. By my penny of observation.'

Arm. But 0,-—but 0,

Moth. the hobby-horse is forgot.

Arm. Callest thou my love hobby-horse? 2

Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

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 sympathized; a horse to be an ambassador 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.

1 The allusion is probably to the old popular pamphlet, " A Pennyworth of Wit."

2 The Hobby-horse was a personage belonging to the ancient Morris dance, when complete. It was the figure of a horse fastened round the waist of a man, his own legs going through the body of the horse, and enabling him to walk, but concealed by a long footcloth; while false legs appeared where those of the man should be, at the sides of the horse. Latterly the Hobby-horse was frequently omitted, which appears to have occasioned a popular ballad, in which was this line, or burden.

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