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Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir.

King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week with bran and water.

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

King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er:

And go we, lords, to put in practice that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.

[Exeunt King, Longaville, and Dumain. Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, 310 These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on.

Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow!


SCENE II. The same.

Enter ARMADO and 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.

5. imp. youngster, boy.


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? or I apt, and my saying pretty? Arm. Thou pretty, because little. Moth. Little pretty, because little. 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. [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him.

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.

36. crosses, coins, from the cross stamped upon the old penny.




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 ye'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.


Arm. I will hereupon confess I am in love: 60 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 humour 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, 70 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

57. the dancing horse; the famous horse, Morocco, which in the latter years of the century astonished the west of Europe by its feats of agility, reason, and speech. It was shown by a Scotsman, Banks, who is said to have been finally burnt, with

his horse, as a wizard at Rome. Douce quotes a minute account of its feats at Paris by the Sieur de Melleray, in a note to the French translation of Apuleius, 1602.

66. courtesy, curtsy (used both of men and women).

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 much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson'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 sea-water green, sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.


Arm. Green indeed is the colour of lovers; 90 but to have a love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He 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.

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

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father's wit and my mother's 100 tongue, assist me!

Arm. Sweet invocation pretty and pathetical!

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of a child; most

which Moth plays.

94. a green wit, probably, as the Camb. editors suggest, a quibble on the green withes with which Samson was bound. Cf. the play on Moth's name in iv. 1. 150.

Moth. 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 'tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the writing nor the tune.


Arm. I will have that subject newly writ o'er, 120 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. [Aside] 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


Arm. I say, sing.

Moth. Forbear till this company be past.

Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA. Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe: and you must suffer him to

III. owe, own. native, by


114. The ballad of King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid Penelophon. Cf. iv. 1. 65.


121. digression, transgression. 123. rational hind, a quibble on the double sense of hind,' -a 'peasant, boor,' and an irrational deer.

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