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A critick; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets,8 king of codpieces,
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting paritors, 9–O my little heart!
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all

;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard :
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [Exit.

7 Hooded, veiled. 8 Petticoats. ? The officers of the spiritual courts who serve citations.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Another part of the same.

Enter the Princess, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHA-
RINE, 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;
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?

For, Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.

Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak’st, the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Prin. What, what ? first praise me, and again

1

say, no?

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!

For. Yes, madam, fair.
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 say'd by merit.

The poor

O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow :-Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot :
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to shew my skill,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart:
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill

deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sove

reignty Only for praise’ sake, when they strive to be Lords o'er their lords?

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 common-

wealth. Cost. God dig-you-den' all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

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.

God give you good even.

An 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. Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend

of mine :
Stand aside, good bearer.—Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.
Boyet.

I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
Prin.

We will read it, I swear : Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible ; true, that thou art beauteous; ' truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate3 king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (o base and obscure vulgar !) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame : he came, one ; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king? WVhy did he come? to see ; Why did he see? to overcome : To whom came he? to the beggar ; What saw he ? the beggar ; IVho overcame he? the beggar:

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The conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's: the captive is enrich'd; On whose side? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a nuptial; On whose side? the king's?no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king ; for so stands the compurison : thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love ? I could : Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou erchange for rags? robes; For tittles, titles; For thyself, me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,

Don ADRIANO DE ARMADO, Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his

prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ? Food for his rage, repasture for his den. Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited

this letter? What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear

better? Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the

style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it

erewhile.+ Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps

here in court; A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport

4 Just now.

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