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Quin. Why, what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colored beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-color beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. But, masters, here are your parts and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the meantime, I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. Quin. At the duke's oak we meet.

Bot. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings.

SHAKSPEARE.

FATHER'S WIT AND MOTHER'S TONGUE

ARMADO -MOTH.

Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. Moth. No, no; O Lord, sir, no.

Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?

Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough

senior.

Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior?

Moth Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?

Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender. Moth. And I, tough senior, 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 saying apt? on I apt, and my saying pretty?

Arm. Thou pretty, because little.

Moth. Little pretty, because little-wherefore apt?

Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.

Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?
Arm. In thy condign praise.

Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise.
Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious?

Moth. That an eel is quick.

Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers:

Thou heatest my blood.

Moth. I am answered, sir.

Arm. I love not to be crossed.

Moth. He speaks the mere contrary: crosses love not him.

(Aside.) Arm. I have promised to study three years with the duke. Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. Arm. Impossible.

Moth. How many is one thrice told?

Arm. I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.

Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a complete

man.

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.

Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three.
Arm. True.

Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now, here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you.

Arm. A most fine figure!
Moth. To prove you a cipher.

(Aside.)

Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love; and, as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humor of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: what great men have been in love? Moth. Hercules, master.

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

Moth. Samson, master: 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 Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do

excel thee in my rapier, as gates. I am in love too, Moth?

Moth. A woman, master.

much as thou didst me in carrying who was Samson's love, my dear

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 sea-water green, sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?

Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best o' them too.

Arm. Green, indeed, is the color of lovers; but to have a love

of that color, methinks, Samson had small reason for it. surely, affected her for her wit.

Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.

Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.

He,

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colors.

Arm. Define, define, well educated infant.

Moth.

Moth. My father's wit and my mother's tongue assist me!
Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and pathetical!
If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown:

Then, if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;

For still her cheeks possess the same,

Which native she doth owe.

A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red. Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar? Moth. The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but, I think, now 't is not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the writing nor the tune.

Arm. I will have the subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the park with the rational hind Costard; she deserves well.

Moth. To be whipped; and yet a better love than my master.

Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
Arm. I say, sing.

Moth. Forbear till this company be past.

(Aside.)

SHAKSPEARS

THE USURER'S BOND.

ANTONIO BASSANIO-SHYLOCK.

Shy. Three thousand ducats, - well

Buss. Ay, sir, for three months.

Shy. For three months, - well.

Buss. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. Shy. Antonio shall become bound, well.

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Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall 1 know your answer?

Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonic bound.

Bass. Your answer to that.

Shy. Antonio is a good man.

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no;—my meaning, in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that he is sufficient: yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies: I understand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, — and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad: but ships are but boards, sailors but men there be land-rats, and water-rats, water-thieves, and land-thieves; I mean, pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks: the man is, notwithstanding, sufficient ; - three thousand ducats ; - I think, I may

take his bond.

Bass. Be assured you may.

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Shy. I will be assured I may and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me: may I speak with Antonio.

Bass. If it please you to dine with us.

Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with What news on the Rialto? - Who is he comes here? (Enter Antonio.)

you.

Bass. This is Signior Antonio.

Shy. (Aside.) How like a fawning publican he looks!

I hate him for he is a Christian :

But more, for that, in low simplicity,

He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.

He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,
Even there were merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-wou thrift,
Which he calls interest: - cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!

Bass. Shylock, do you hear?

Shy. I am debating of my present store; And, by the near guess of my memory,

I cannot instantly raise up the gross

months

Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me: but soft; how
many
Do you desire?— Rest you fair, good signior;
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow,
By taking, nor by giving of excess,
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I'll break a custom : Is he yet possessed,

How much you would ?

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
Ant. And for three months.

Shy. Three thousand ducats,

(Tv Anuma)

't is a good round sum,

Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.

Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft,

In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys, and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe :
You call me - misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears, you need my help:
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say,
"Shylock, we would have moneys;" you say so,
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold; moneys is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
"Hath a dog money? is it possible,

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this,

66

Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;

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