There's the moral, now the l'envoy. Moth. I will add the l'envoy; fay the moral again. Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were ftill at odds, being but three. Moth. Until the goofe came out of door, And stay'd the odds by adding four. A good l'envoy, ending in the goofe; would you defire more? Coft. The boy hath fold him a bargain; a goose, that's flat; Sir, your penny-worth is good, an' your goofe be fat. Arm. Come hither, come hither; How did this argument begin? Moth. By faying, that a Coftard was broken in a shin, Then call'd you for a l'envoy. Coft. True, and I for a plantan ; Thus came the argument in; Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goofe that you bought, And he ended the market. Arm. But tell me; how was there a Coftard broken in a fhin ? Moth. I will tell you fenfibly. Coft. Thou haft no feeling of it, Moth, I will fpeak that l'envoy. 1 Collard running out, that was fafely within, Fell over the threshold, and broke my fhin. Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. Coft. "Till there be more matter in the fhin. Arm. Sirrah, Coftard, I will infranchise thee. Coft. O, marry me to one Francis; I fmell fome Penvoy, fome goofe in this. Arm. By my fweet foul, I mean, fetting thee at liberty; enfreedoming thy perfon; thou wert immur'd, reftrained, captivated, bound. Coft. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose. Arm. I give thee thy liberty, fet thee from durance, and, in lieu thereof, impofe on thee nothing but this; bear bear this fignificant to the country-maid Jaquenetta ; there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.[Exit. Moth. Like the fequel, I. Signior Coftard, adieu. (Exit. Coft. My fweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony few! 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 incle a penny. No, I'll give you a remuneration : why, it carries it. Remuneration!-why, it is a fairer name than a French crown (12). I will never buy and fell out of this word. Enter Biron. Biron. O my good knave Coftard, exceedingly well met. Coft. Pray you, Sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration ? Biron. What is a remuneration ? Coft. Marry, Sir, half-penny farthing. Biron. O, why then three farthings worth of filk.' Coft. Well, I will do it, Sir: fare you well. (12) No, I'll give you a Remuneration: Why? It carries its Remuneration. Why? It is a fairer Name than a French Crown.] Thus this Paffage has hitherto been writ, and pointed, without any Regard to Common Senfe, or Meaning. The Reform, that I have made, flight as it is, makes it both intelligible and humourous. Coft. I will come to your worship to-morrow morn ing. Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, flave, it is but this: The Princess comes to hunt here in the park : When tongues speak fweetly, then they name her name, And to her fweet hand fee thou do commend This feal'd-up counfel. There's thy guerdon; go. Coft. Guerdon,- O fweet guerdon! better than remuneration, eleven pence farthing better: moft fweet guerdon! I will do it, Sir, in print. Guerdon, remu neration. Biron. O! and I, forfooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; A very beadle to a humorous figh: [Exit. A critick; nay, a night-watch conftable; Regent (13) This Signior Junio's giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid.] It was fome time ago ingeniously hinted to me, (and I readily came into the Opinion;) that as there was a Contraft of Terms in gian-dwarf, fo, probably, there fhould be in the Words immediately preceding them; and therefore that we should reftore, This Senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid. i. e. this old, young Man. And there is, indeed, afterwards in this Play, a Description of Cupid, which forts very aptly with fuch an Emendation. That was the way to make his Godhead wax, The Conjecture is exquifitely well imagin'd, and ought by all means to be embrac'd, unless there is reason to think, that, in the former Reading, there is an Allusion to some Tale, or Character in an old Play. I have not, on this Account, ventur'd to disturb the Text, because there feems to me some rea fon Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms, Of trotting parators (O my little heart!) With two pitch balls ftuck in her face for eyes; fon to fufpect, that our Author is here alluding to Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca. In that Tragedy there is the Character of one Junius, a Roman Captain, who falls in Love to Diftraction with one of Bonduca's Daughters; and becomes an arrant whining Slave to this Paffion. He is afterwards cur'd of his Infirmity, and is as abfolute a Tyrant against the Sex. Now, with regard to these two Extremes, Cupid might very properly be filed Junius's giant-dwarf: a Giant in his Eye, while the Dotage was upon him; but fhrunk into a Dwarf, fo foon as he had got the better of it: (14) And I to be a Corporal of his Field, And wear his Colours like a Tumbler's hoop!] A Corporal of a Field is quite a new Term: neither did the Tumblers ever adorn their Hoops with Ribbands, that I can learn: for Thofe were not carried in Parade about with them, as the Fencer carries his Sword: Nor, if they were, is the Similitude at all pertinent to the Cafe in hand. But to ftoop like a Tumbler agrees not only with that Profeffion, and the fervile Condefcenfions of a Lover, but with what follows in the Con text. What milled the wife Tranfcribers at firft, feems This: When once the Tumbler appear'd, they thought, his Hoop muft not be far behind. Mr. Warburton. And I to figh for her! to watch for her! Of his almighty, dreadful, little, Might. Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue and groan: Some men must love my lady, and fome Joan. [Exit. A C. T III. SCENE, a Pavilion in the Park near the Palace. Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, W PRINCESS. AS that the King, that fpurr'd his horfe fo hard Against the steep uprifing of the hill? Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he. Then Forefter, my friend, where is the bush, O fhort-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo! For. Yes, madam, fair. Prin. Nay, never paint me now; Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, |