ARMADO

True. A most fine Figure. 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 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 cum sie. I think scorn to sighs, me thinks I should outsweare Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men have been in love? Most sweet Hercules: more authority deer Boy, name more; and sweet my child let them be men of good repute and carriage. Oh well knit Sampson, strong jointed Sampson ; I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampsons love my deer Moth? Of what complexion? Tell me precisely of what complexion? Is that one of the four complexions? Green in deed is the colour of Lovers: but to have a love of that colour, me thinks Sampson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit. My love is most immaculate white and read. I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoo (which is baser) guided by her foot (which is basest) does tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falsehood) if I love. And how can that be true love, which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar; Love is a Devil. There is no evil angel but Love, yet was Sampson so temp ted, and he had and excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's But shaft is too hard for Hercules Clubb, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serve my turn: the Passado he respects not, the Duella he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glory is to sub endue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, be still Drum, for your manager is in love; yea he loves. Assist me some extempo rall God of Rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn Sonnet Devise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio. Until the Goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four. We will talk no more of this matter. Sirrah Costard, I will infranchise then. By my sweet soul, I mean S tting thee as libertiy. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wen emu ed, restrained, captivated, bound. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from di tance, and in lewe thereof, impos n thee nothing but that Bear this significant to the country Maid Iaquenetta where is remum neration, for the best w worser of mine honour, it rewarding my dependants. M h, follow. Define, define, well educated infant. Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty & pathetical. Is there not a Ballet Boy, of the King & the Beggar? I will have that subject newly writ over, 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. Sing Boy, My spirit grows heavy in love. I say sing. I do betray my self with blushing: Maid. I will visit thee at the Lodge. I know where it is situate. I will tell thee wonders. I love thee. And so farewell. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned. Thou shalt be Heavily punished. Take away this villain, shut him up. Some enigma, some riddle, ome, thy Lenuoy begin. By virtue thou inforcest laughter, thy silly thought, my spleen, the heaving of my lunges provokes me to redi culous smiling: Oh pardon me my stars, does the incon siderate take salve for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy for a salve? The Fox, the Ape, and the Humblebee, Were still at odds, being but three. Come hithe , come argument begin But tell me, How was there a Costard broken in a shin? Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure & affection, to congratulate the Princess at her Pavilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon. Sweet Air, go tenderness of years, take this Key, give enlargement to the Swain, bring him festinatly hither, I must employ him in a letter to my love. How meanest thou? brawling in French. How hast thou purchased this experience? But oh but oh. Callest thou my love Hobbi-horse. Almost I had. By heart, and in heart boy. What wilt thou prove? I am all these three. Fetch hither the Swain, he must carry me a letter. Would would, What sayest thou? The way is but short, away. The meaning pretty ingenius, is not Led a metal heavy, dull, and slow? I say Led is slow. Sweet smoke of Rhetoric He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet thats he I shoot thee at the Swain. A most acute Juvenal, volable and free of grace, By thy favour sweet Welkin, I must sighs in thy face: Most rude melancholy, Valour gives thee place. My Herald is returned. Chirra. Men of peace well incontred. Mounsier, are you not lettered? Now by the salt wane of the meditaranium, a sweet touch, a quick vene we of wit, snip snap, quick and home, it rejoices my intellect, true wit. Arts-man preambulat, we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-house on the top of the Mountain? At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountain. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my fami liar, I do assure you very good friend: for what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee remember thy courtesy. I beseech thee apparel thy head: and among other importunt and most serious designs, and of great import in deed too: but let that pass, for I must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world) sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger thus dally with my excrement, with my mustachie: but sweet heart let that pass. By the world I recount no fable, some certain special honours it pleases his greatness to impart to Armado a Soldier, a man of travail, that hath seen the world: but let that pass; the very all of all is: but sweet heart, I do implore secretie, that the King would have me present the Princess (sweet chuck) with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or fierworke: Now understanding that the Curate and your sweet self, are good at such erup tions, and sudden breaking out of mirth (as it were) I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantity enough for that worthies thumb, he is not so big as the end of his Club. For the rest of the Worthies? Shall I tell you a thing? We will have, if this fadge not, and Antique. I be seech you follow. Peace. The Armipotent Mars, of Lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Illion, A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea, From morn till night out of his Pavilion. I am that Flower. Sweet Lord Longauill rain thy tongue. The sweet Warman is dead and rotten, Sweet chucks Beatrice not the bones of the buried: When he breathed he was a man: But I will forward with my device; sweet royalty bestow on me the sense of hearing. I do adore thy sweet Graces Slipper. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, What meanest thou? Dost thou infamonize me among potentates: Thou shalt die. By the North Pole I do challenge thee. Gentlemen and Soldiers, pardon me, I will not combat in my shyrt. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. The naked truth of it is, I have no Shirt. I go Woolward for penance. For mine own partly I breath free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hold of discretion, and I will right my self Like a Soldier. Sweet Majesty vouchsafe me. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a Votary; I have vowed to Iaquenetta To hold the Plough for her sweet love three year. But most esteemed greatness, will you hear the Dialogue that the two Learned men have compiled, in praise of the Owl and the Cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. Holla, Approach. This side is Hiems, Winter. This Ʋ er, the Spring: The one maintained by the Owl, the other by the Cuckoo. The Armipotent Mars, of Lances the almighty, gave Hector a gift. No Page, it is and epilogue or discourse to make plain, Some obscure presedence that hath tofor been feign. I will example it. The Fox, the Ape, and the Humblebee, Were still at odds being but three. Ther's the moral: Now the lenuoy. Ʋ er begin. When Dasies pied, and Violets blue, And Cuckow-budds of yellow hew: And Ladi-smockes all silver white, Do paint the Meadows with delight: The Cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo. Cuckoo, Cuckoo: Oh word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear. When Shepherds pipe on Oaten Straws, And merry Larks are Ploughmen's Clocks: When Turtles tread and Rooks and Daws, And Maidens bleach their summer smocks: The Cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Cuckoo. Cuckoo, cuckoo: Oh word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear. When Isacles hang by the wall, And Dick the Shepherd blows his nail: And Thom bears Logs into the hall, And Milk coms frozen home in pail: When Blood is nipped, and ways be full, Then nightly sings the staring Owl Tu-whit to-who. A merry note, While greasy Joan does keel the pot. When all aloud the wind does blow, And coffing drowns the Parsons saw And Birds fit brooding in the Snow, And Marrians nose looks read and raw: When roasted Crabbs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring Owl, Tu-whit to-who. A merry note, While greasy Joan does keel the pot.