Boyet. And wherefore not ships? No fheep, (fweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You fheep, and I pafture; fhall that finish the jeft? Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. Mar. Not fo, gentle beaft; My lips are no common, though feveral they be. Mar. To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree. This civil war of wits were much better us'd On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd. Prin. With what? Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected. Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire Who tendring their own worth, from whence they were glafst, Did point out to buy them, along as you paft. An' you give him for my fake but one loving kifs. VOL. II. I I only I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and fpeakest skilfully. Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Rof. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim. Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches ? Mar. No. Boyet. What then, do you fee? Rof. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet. You are too hard for me. (8) 'Arm. [Exeunt. SCENE, the Park; near the Palace. Enter Armado and Moth. Arble, child; make paffionate my fenfe of hearing. W Moth. Concolinel [Singing. Arm. Sweet Air! go, tenderness of years; take this key, give inlargement to the fwain; bring him festinately hither: I muft employ him in a letter to my love. Moth. Mafter, will you win your love with a French brawl? Arm. How mean'ft thou, brawling in French? (8) Boyet. You are too hard for me.] Here, in all the Books, the 2d Act is made to end: but in my Opinion very mistakenly. I have ventur'd to vary the Regulation of the four last A&s from the printed Copies, for thefe Reasons. Hitherto, the 2d Act has been of the Extent of 7 Pages; the 3d but ofs; and the 5th of no less than 29. And this Difproportion of Length has crouded too many Incidents into fome Acts, and left the others quite barren. I have now reduced them into a much better Equality; and distributed the Bufiness likewise, (such as it is,) into a more uniform Caft. Moth. Moth. No, my compleat master (9); but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; figh a note and fing a note; fometimes through the throat, as if you fwallow'd love with finging love; fometimes through the nose, as if you fnuft up love by fmelling love; with your hat penthoufe-like, o'er the fhop of your eyes; with your arms croft on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbet on a fpit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a fnip and away: these are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, and make the men of note (10): do you note men, that are most affected to these? Arm. How haft thou purchas'd this experience? Arm. But O, but O Moth. The hobby-horfe is forgot. (11) Arm. (9) Moth. No, my compleat Master, &c.] This whole Speech has been fo terribly confused in the Pointing, through all the Editions hitherto, that not the leaft glimmering of Sense was to be pick'd out of it. As I have regulated the Passage, I think, Moth delivers both good Senfe and good Humour. (10) thefe betray nice Wenches, that would be betray'd without thefe, and make them Men of Note.] Thus all the Editors, with a Sagacity worthy of Wonder. But who will ever be lieve, that the odd Attitudes and Affectations of Lovers, by which they betray young Wenches, should have power to make thofe young Wenches Men of Note? This is a Transformation, which, I dare fay, the Poet never thought of. His Meaning is, that they not only inveigle the young Girls, but make the Men taken notice of too, who affect them. (11) Arm. But O, but O Moth. The Hobby-horse is forgot.] The Humour of this Reply of Moth's to Armado, who is fighing in Love, cannot be taken without a little Explanation: nor why there fhould be any room for making fuch a Reply. In the Rites formerly obferv'd for the Celebration of May-day, besides those now 12 us'd Arm. Call'st thou my love hobby-horse? Moth. No, mafter; the hobby-horfe is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney: but have you forgot your love? Arm. Almoft I had. Moth. Negligent ftudent, learn her by heart. 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 out of, upon the inftant: 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; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her. Arm. I am all these three. Moth. And three times as much more; and yet nothing at all. Arm. Fetch hither the fwain, he muft carry me a letter. Moth. A meffage well fympathiz'd; a horfe to be embaffador for an afs. Arm. Ha, ha; what fay'ft thou? Moth. Marry, Sir, you must fend the afs upon the horfe, for he is very flow-gated: but I go. us'd of hanging a Pole with Garlands, and dancing round it, a Boy was dreft up representing Maid Marian; another, like a Fryar; and another rode on a Hobby-horfe, with Bells jingling, and painted Streamers. After the Reformation took place, and Precifians multiplied, thefe latter Rites were look'd upon to favour of Paganism; and then Maid Marian, the Fryar, and the poor Hobby-horse were turn'd out of the Games. Some, who were not fo wifely precife, but regretted the Disuse of the Hobby-horfe, no doubt, fatiriz'd this Sufpicion of Idolatry, and archly wrote the Epitaph above alluded to. Now Moth, hearing Armado groan ridiculously, and cry out, But oh! but ob! hamourously pieces out his Exclamation with the Sequel of this Epitaph: which is putting his Mafter's Love-Passion, and the Lofs of the Hobby-horse, on a Footing. Arm. Arm. The is but fhort; away. way Moth. As fwift as lead, Sir. Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? Moth. Minimè, honeft master; or rather, mafter, no. Moth. You are too fwift, Sir, to fay fo. Is that lead flow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun? He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he: Moth. Thump then, and I fly. [Exit. Arm. A moft acute Juvenile, voluble and free of grace; By thy favour, fweet welkin, I must figh in thy face. Moft rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. "My herald is return'd. Re-enter Moth and Coftard. Moth. A wonder, mafter, here's a Coftard broken in a fhin. Arm. Some enigma, fome riddle; come, thy l'envoy begin. Coft. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no falve in the male, Sir. Ŏ Sir, plantan, a plain plantan; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, or falve, Sir, but plantan. Arm. By vertue, thou enforceft laughter; thy filly thought, my fpleen; the heaving of my lungs pròvokes me to ridiculous fmiling: O pardon me, my ftars! doth the inconfiderate take falve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for a falve? Moth. Doth the wife think them other? is not l'envoy a falve? Arm. No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain Some obfcure precedence that hath tofore been fain. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, | |