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 gocse. 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 l'envoy: I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. 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 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!(Exit Moth Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: 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. three Enter Biron. Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? Biron. What is a remuneration? Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing. Biron. O, why then, three-farthings-worth of silk. Cost. When would you have it done, sir? Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well. Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this; ; The princess comes to hunt here in the park, 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 (1) Delightful. This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon;1 go. A very beadle to a humorous sigh; Than whom no mortal so magnificent! This whimpled,3 whining, purblind, wayward boy; Of trotting paritors,5-O my little heart!-- And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! A woman, that is like a German clock, With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; (1) Reward. (2) With the utmost exactness. (3) Hooded, veiled. (4) Petticoats. (5) The officers of the spiritual courts who serve citations. That Cupid will impose for my neglect Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan; Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [Exit ACT IV. SCENE I-Another part of the same. Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Lords, attendants, and a Forester. Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill? Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he. Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind. Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch; Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush, O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for wo! Prin. Nay, never paint me now; Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass, take this for telling true; [Giving him money. Fair payment for foul words is more than due. For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. O heresy in fair, fit for these days! Agiving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.- When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty Only for praise sake, when they strive to be Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord. Enter Costard. Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth. Cost. God dig-you-den1 all! Pray you, which is the head lady? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. An Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest? Prin. The thickest, and the tallest. Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth. your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One of these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman! you are the thickest here. Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will? Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to one lady Rosaline. (1) God give you good even. |