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.

[Exit.

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 return'd.

Re-enter MOTH and COSTARD.

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; O, 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: O, 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'envoy a

salve?

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain

Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.

I will example it :

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Were still at odds, being but three.

There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Arm.

Were still at odds, being but three :

Moth.

Until the goose came out of door, And stay'd the odds by adding four. Now will I begin your moral, and do you

Arm.

follow with my l'envoy.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three:
Until the goose came out of door,

Staying the odds by adding four.

Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; Would you desire more?

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's

flat:

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.

To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose :

Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.

Arm. Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.

Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain; thus came your argument in ;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;

And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me ; how was there a Costard broken in a shin? Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that T'envoy:

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.

Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.

Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.

shin,

Cost. O, marry me to one Frances;-I smell some l'envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant [Giving a letter] to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is remuneration [Giving him money]; for the best ward of mine honour, is, rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.

[Exit.

Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adieu.

Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew !9

[Exit MOTH. 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 inkle? a-penny :-No, I'll give you a remuneration : why, it carries it.-Remuneration!—why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Enter BIRON.

Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a mau buy for a remuneration?

Biron. What is a remuneration?

Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.

Biron. O, why then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
Cost. I thank your worship: God be wi' you!
Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is.
Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but

this;

The princess comes to hunt here in the park,

And in her train there is a gentle lady ;

When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,

And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;

And to her white hand see thou do commend

This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.

[Gives him money.

Cost. Gardon-O sweet gardon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet gardon !-I will do it, sir, in print.1o—Gardon-remuneration.

[Exit.

Biron. O!—And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;

A very beadle to a humorous sigh;

A critic, nay, a night-watch constable ;

A domineering pedant o'er the boy,

Than whom no mortal so magnificent!

This wimpled,11 whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Sole imperator, and great general

Of trotting paritors.12 O my little heart!—
And I to be a corporal of his field,13

And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I love! I sue! I seek a wife!

A

woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;

A witty 14 wanton with a velvet brow,

With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his all-mighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

[Exit.