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Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.
Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
same? Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.
[Exit. Long. I beseech you a word; What is she in the
white?, Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in
the light. Long. Perchance, light in the light: I desire her
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that,
were a shame.
Boyet. Good sir, be not offended :
4 Aye, yes.
5 A French particle of negation,
Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
[Exit BIRON.--Ladies unmask. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest. Boyet.
And every jest but a word. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his
word. Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to
board. Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry ! Boyet.
And wherefore not ships ? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish
the jest? Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.
[Offering to kiss her.
Not so, gentle beast; My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
То my fortunes and me.
6 A quibble, several signified uninclosed lands.
The civil war of wits were much better used
Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies) By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Prin. With what?
Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd
hath disclos'd : I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st
skilfully, Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news
of him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her
father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear my mad wenches? Mar.
What then, do you see? Pos. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet.
You are too hard for me.
SCENE I. Another part of the same.
Enter ARMADO and Moth. Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense
of hearing. Moth. Concolinel
[Singing Arm. Sweet air !-Go, tenderness of years ; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately 7 hither; I must employ him in a letter to
Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl ?
Arm. How mean'st thou ? brawling in French?
Moth. No, my complete master : but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canaryo to it with your
7 Hastily. 8 A kind of dance.
feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting ; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches—that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note, (do you note, men ?) that most are affected to these.
Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience ?
Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
Arm. Almost I had.
Moth. And out of heart, master : all those three I will prove.
Arm. What wilt thou prove?
Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her : in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her;