the weft corner of thy curious-knotted garden. There did I fee that low-fpirited fwain, that bafe minow of thy mirth, (Coft. Me?), that unletter'd fmall-knowing foul, (Coft. Me?), that shallow vaffal, (Coft. Still me?) which, as I remember, hight Coftard, (Coft. O me!), forted and conforted, contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, with, with,O with, but with this I paffion to fay wherewith: Coft. With a wench.

King. With a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or for thy more understanding, a woman; him, I(as my ever-esteem'd duty pricks me on) have fent to thee, to receive the need of punishment, by thy fweet Grace's officer, Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and eftimation.

Dull. Me, an't fhall pleafe you: I am Anthony Dull.

King. For Jaquenetta, (fo is the weaker vessel call'd), which I apprehended with the aforefaid fwain, I keep ber as a vaffal of thy law's fury, and fhall at the leaft of thy fweet notice bring her to trial. Thine in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty, Don Adriano de Armado.

Biron. This is not fo well as I look'd for, but the best that ever I heard.

King. Ay; the best for the worst. But, firrah, what fay you to this?

Coft. Sir, I confefs the wench.

King. Did you hear the proclamation?

Coft. I do confefs much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.

King. It was proclaim'd a year's imprisonment to be taken with a wench.

Coft. I was taken with none, Sir, I was taken with a damofel.

King. Well, it was proclaimed damofel.

Coft. This was no damofel neither, Sir, fhe was a virgin.

King. It is fo varied too, for it was proclaim'd virgin.

Goft. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.

King. This maid will not ferve your turn, Sir.
Coft. This maid will ferve my turn, Sir.

King. Sir, I will pronounce fentence; you fhall faft a week with bran and water.

Coft. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.

King. And Don Armado fhall be your keeper. My Lord Biron, fee him deliver'd o'er.

And go we, Lords, to put in practice that,

Which each to other hath fo ftrongly fworn. [Exeunt. Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, Thefe oaths and laws will prove an idle fcorn. Sirrah, come on.

Coft. I fuffer for the truth, Sir: for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore welcome the four cup of profperity: affiction may one day fmile again, and until then, fit thee down, forrow. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Changes to Armado's houfe.

Enter Armado, and Moth.

Arm. Boy, what fign is it, when a man of great fpirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great fign, Sir, that he will look fad. Arm, Why, fadnefs is one and the felf-fame thing, dear imp.

Math. No, no; O Lord, Sir, no.

Arm. How can't thou part fadnefs and melancholy, my tender juvenile?

Moth. By a familiar demonftration of the working, my toh Signior.

Arm. Why tough Signior? why tough Signior? Math. Why tender juvenile? why tender juvenile?

Arm. I fpoke it, tender juvenile, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.

Moth. And I, tough Signior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough. Arm. Pretty and apt.

Moth. How mean you, Sir? I pretty, and my faying apt? or I apt, and my faying pretty?

Arm. Thou pretty, becaufe little.

Moth. Little! pretty, becaufe little; wherefore apt? Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.

Moth. Speak you this in my praise, Mafter?

Arm. In thy condign praife.

Moth. I will praife an eel with the fame praife.
Arm. What? that an ecl is ingenious.

Moth. That an eel is quick,

Arm. I do fay, thou art quick in anfwers. Thou heat'ft my blood.

Moth. I am anfwer'd, Sir.

Arm. I love not to be crofs'd.

Moth. He fpeaks the clean contrary, croffes * love not him.

Arm. I have promis'd to study three years with the King.

Moth. You may do it in an hour, Sir.
Arm. Irapoffible.

Moth. How many is one thrice told?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fits the fpirit of a tapfter.

Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamefter.

Arm. I confefs both; they are both the varnish of a compleat man.

Moth. Then, I am fure, you know how much the grofs fum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.

Moth. Which the bafe vulgar call three.

Arm. True.

Moth. Why, Sir, is this fuch a piece of ftudy? Now here's three ftudied ere you'll thrice wink; and how eafy is it to put years to the word three, and ftudy three years in two words, the dancing-horfe will tell you. Arm. A moft fine figure.

Moth. To prove you a cypher.

Arm. I will hereupon confefs, I am in love; and, as * meaning, money.

it is bafe for a foldier to love, fo I am in love with a base wench. If drawing my fword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take defire prisoner; and ranfom him to any French courtier for a new-devis'd curtfey. I think it fcorn to figh; methinks I fhould out-fwear Cupid. Comfort me, boy; what great men have been in love? Moth. Hercules, Mafter.

Arm. Moft fweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, fweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Samfon, Mafter; he was a man of good carriage; great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love.

Arm. O well-knit Samfon, ftrong-jointed Samfon! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sam

fon'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 precisely 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 beft of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks, Samfon had small reafon for it. He, furely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was fo, Sir, for fhe had a green wit. Arm. My love is most 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 pretty and pathetical!

Moth. If the be made of white and red,

Her faults will ne'er be known;

For blufhing cheeks by faults are bred,

And fears by pale-white shown:

Then if she fear, or be to blame,

By this you fhall not know;

For fill her cheeks poffefs the fame,

Which native fhe doth owe.

A dangerous rhime, Mafter, against the reafon of white and red.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the king and the beggar?

Moth. "The world was guilty of such a ballad fome "three ages fince, but, I think, now 'tis not to be "found;" or if it were, it would neither ferve 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 Coftard; fhe deferves well— Moth. To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my mafter deferves. [Afide. Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. Moth. And that's greater marvel loving a light wench. Arm. I fay, fing.

Moth. Forbear, till this company is pass'd.

Enter Coftard, Dull, Jaquenetta a maid.

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

Arm. I do betray myself with blufhing.
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.

Maid,