riage; great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love.

Arm. O well-knit Sampson, ftrong-jointed Sampfon! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampfon'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 precifely of what complexion ?
Moth. Of the fea-water green, Sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, Sir, 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, Sir, for fhe had a green wit. Arm. My love is moft immaculate white and red. Moth. Moft maculate thoughts, mafter, are mask'd under fuch colours.

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, affift me!

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child, moft pathetical!

pretty and

Moth. If fhe be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown;
Then if the fear, or be to blame,

By this you shall not know;
For ftill her cheeks poffefs the fame,
Which native fhe doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, 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

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 prefident. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Goftard; the deferves well

Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master.

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 is past.

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a Maid.

Dull. Sir, the King's pleasure is, that you keep Coftard fafe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he must faft three days a week. For this damfel, I must keep her at the park, she is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.

Arm. I do betray my felf with blufhing: 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. (6)

[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.

Arm.

(6) Maid. Fair Weather after you. Thus all the printed Copies: but the of much Inadvertence. They make

Come, Jaquenetta, away.]
Editors have been guilty
Jaquenetta, and a Maid

enter:

Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offence, ere thou be pardoned.

Coft. Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I fhall do it on a full ftomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.

Coft. I am more bound to you, than your followers; for they are but lightly rewarded.

Arm. Take away this villain, shut him up. Moth. Come, you tranfgreffing flave, away. Coft. Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will faft, being loofe.

Moth. No, Sir, 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, some shall see

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. [Exeunt Moth and Coftard. Arm. I do affect the very ground (which is bafe) where her fhoe (which is bafer) guided by her foot (which is bafeft) 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-shaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier; the first and second caufe will not ferve my

enter: whereas Jaquenetta is the only Maid Poet, and who is committed to the Cuftody convey'd by him to the Lodge in the Park. This being the Cafe, it is evident to Demonftration, thatafter you must be spoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull fays to her, Come, Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the Text.

Fair Weather

intended by the of Dull, to be

turn;

•

turn; the Pafado he refpects not, the Duello he regards not; his difgrace is to be call'd boy; but his glory is to fubdue men. Adieu, valour! ruft, rapier! be ftill, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Affift me, fome extemporal God of rhime, for, I am fure, I fhall turn fonnet. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

[Exit..

Des Jura

II.

A

C T

SCENE, before the King of Navarre's Palace.

Enter the Princess of France, Rofaline, Maria, Catha rine, Boyet, Lords and other attendants.

BOYET.

N

TOW, Madam, fummon up your deareft fpirits ; Confider, whom the King your father fends ; To whom he fends, and what's his embaffy. Your felf, held precious in the world's esteem, To parley with the fole inheritor Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchlefs Navarre ; the plea, of no less weight. Than Aquitain, a dowry for a Queen. Be now as prodigal of all dear grace, As nature was in making graces dear, When she did ftarve the general world befide, And prodigally gave them all to you.

Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise; Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not utter'd by bafe fale of chapmens' tongues. I am lefs proud to hear you tell my worth,. Than you much willing to be counted wife, In fpending thus your wit in praise of mine. But now, to task the tasker; good Boyet,

You

You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noife abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
'Till painful study shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his filent Court;
Therefore to us feems it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthinefs, we fingle you
As our beft-moving fair follicitor.

Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On ferious bufinefs, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes perfonal conference with his Grace.
Hafte, fignifie fo much, while we attend,
Like humble-vifag'd fuitors, his high will.

Boyet. Proud of imployment, willingly I go. [Exit.
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is fo;
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous King?

Lord. Longaville is one.

Prin. Know you the man?

Mar. I knew him, Madam, at a marriage-feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge folemnized.
In Normandy faw I this Longaville,
A man of fovereign parts he is esteem'd ;
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms,
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well.
The only foil of his fair virtue's glofs,
(If virtue's glofs will ftain with any foil,)
Is a fharp wit, match'd with too blunt a will;
Whofe edge hath power to cut, whofe will ftill wills
It should spare none, that come within his power.

Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike; is't fo?
Mar. They fay fo moft, that most his humours

know.

Prin. Such fhort-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest?

Cath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, Of all that virtue love, for virtue lov'd. Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill

For