The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: L5r - Comedies, p. 129

Left Column


Loues Labour's lost.
[840]
Sir, your penny‑worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's a fat Goose.
Ar. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin? Boy.
[845]
By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy.
Clow. True, and I for a Plantan: Thus came your argument in: Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought,
[850]
And he ended the market.
Ar.

But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in

a shin?

Pag. I will tell you sencibly. Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth,
[855]
I will speake that Lenuoy. I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin.
Arm. We will talke no more of this matter. Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm.
[860]
Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee.
Clow.

O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Len­ uoy , some Goose in this.

Arm.

By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at li­

bertie. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured,

[865]

restrained, captiuated, bound.

Clow.

True, true, and now you will be my purgation,

and let me loose.

Arm.

I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance,

and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:

[870]

Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta:

there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours

is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.

Pag. Like the sequell I. Signeur Costard adew. Exit. Clow.
[875]

My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my in‑conie

Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration.

Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three‑far­

things: Three‑farthings remuneration, What's the price

of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why?

[880]

It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then

a French‑Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this

word.

Enter Berowne. Ber.

O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met.

Clow.

Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon

[885]

may a man buy for a remuneration?

Ber.

What is a remuneration?

Cost.

Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing.

Ber.

O, Why then three farthings worth of Silke.

Cost.

I thanke your worship, God be wy you.

Ber.
[890]
O stay slaue, I must employ thee As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue, Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate.
Clow.

When would you haue it done sir?

Ber.

O this after‑noone.

Clo.
[895]

Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well.

Ber.

O thou knowest not what it is.

Clo.

I shall know sir, when I haue done it.

Ber.

Why villaine thou must know first.

Clo.

I wil come to your worship to morrow morning.

Ber.
[900]
It must be done this after‑noone, Harke slaue, it is but this: The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke,

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[full image]

Right Column


And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie: When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
[905]
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her: And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal'd‑vp counsaile. Ther's thy gu rdon guerdon : goe.
Clo.

Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remune­ration,

a leuenpence‑farthing better: most sweete gar­

[910]

don. I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration.

Exit. Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue, I that haue beene loues whip? A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke, Nay, a night‑watch Constable.
[915]
A domineering pedant ore the Boy, Then whom no mortall so magnificent. This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy, This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid, Regent of Loue‐rimes, Lord of folded armes,
[920]
Th'annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes: Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents: Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces. Sole Emperator and great generall Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)
[925]
And I to be a Corporall of his field, And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope. What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife, A woman that is like a Germane Cloake, Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
[930]
And neuer going a right, being a Watch: But being watcht, that it may still goe right. Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all: And among three, to loue the worst of all, A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.
[935]
With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes. I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede, Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde. And I to sigh for her, to watch for her, To pray for her, go to: it is a plague
[940]
That Cupid will impose for my neglect, Of his almighty dreadfull little might. Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone, Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione.
Actus Quartus. [Act 4, Scene 1] Enter the Princ sse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords. Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard,
[945]
Against he steepe vprising of the hill?
Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he. Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde: Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch, On Saterday we will returne to France.
[950]
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the ush That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A Stand where you may make the fairest shoote. Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote,
[955]
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote.
For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so. Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no. O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe. For. Yes

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Actus Quartus. [Act 4, Scene 1] Enter the Princ sse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords. Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard,
[945]
Against he steepe vprising of the hill?
Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he. Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde: Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch, On Saterday we will returne to France.
[950]
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the ush That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A Stand where you may make the fairest shoote. Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote,
[955]
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote.
For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so. Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no. O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe. For.

Yes Madam faire.

Qu.
[960]
Nay, neuer paint me now, Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true: Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due.
For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit. Qu.
[965]
See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit. O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes, A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise. But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill, And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
[970]
Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote, Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't: If wounding, then it was to shew my skill, That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill. And out of question, so it is sometimes:
[975]
Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes, When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part, We bend to that, the working of the hart. As I for praise alone now seeke to spill The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill.
Boy.
[980]
Do not curst wiues hold that selfe‑soueraigntie Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be Lords ore their Lords?
Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford, To any Lady that subdewes a Lord. Enter Clowne. Boy.
[985]
Here comes a member of the common‑wealth.
Clo.

God dig‑you‑den all, pray you which is the head

Lady?

Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue no heads Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest? Qu.
[990]
The thickest, and the tallest.
Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth. And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit, One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chiefe womā woman ? You are the thickest here? Qu.
[995]
What's your will sir? What's your will?
Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne, To one Lady Rosaline. Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine. stand a side good bearer.
[1000]
Boyet, you can carue, Breake vp this Capon.
Boyet. I am bound to serue. This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here: It is writ to Iaquenetta. Qu.
[1005]
We will read it, I sweare. Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare.
Boyet reades.

BY heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true

that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art

louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious,

truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroi­

call Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King

Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Beg­

ger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Ve­ ni, vidi, vici : Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O

base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and o­

uercame: hee came one; see, two; couercame ouercame three:

Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why

did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the

Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame

he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose

side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side?

the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose

side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am

the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Beg­

ger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command

thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could.

Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou ex­

change for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe

mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on

thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy

euerie part.

Thine in the dearest designe of industrie,

Don Adriana de Armatho.

Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before,
[1010]
And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den. Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you euer heare better? Boy.
[1015]
I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile.
Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile. Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his Booke‑mates. Qu.
[1020]
Thou fellow, a word. Who gaue thee this Letter?
Clow. I told you, my Lord. Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it? Clo. From my Lord to my Lady. Qu.
[1025]
From which Lord, to which Lady?
Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away. Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day. Exeunt. Boy.
[1030]
Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
Rosa. Shall I teach you to know. Boy. I my continent of beautie. Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off. Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
[1035]
Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie. Finely put on.
Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter. Boy. And who is your Deare? Rosa.

If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not

[1040]

neare. Finely put on indeed.

Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee strikes at the brow. Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower: Haue I hit her now. Rosa.
[1045]

Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that

was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as

touching the hit it.

Boyet.

So I may answere thee with one as old that

was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a

[1050]

little wench, as touching the hit it.

Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it my good man. Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot: And I cannot, another can. Exit. Clo.
[1055]
By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it.
Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both did hit. Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies my Lady. Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be. Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out. Clo.
[1060]
Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit the clout.
Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in. Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the is in pin . Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow foule. Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to boule. Boy.
[1065]
I feare too much rubbing: good night my good Oule.
Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne. Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe. O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
[1070]
Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man. To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan. To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will sweare: And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit, Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
[1075]
Sowla, sowla.
Exeunt. Shoote within.
 

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<div type="scene" n="1">
   <head rend="italic centred">Actus Quartus.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 4, Scene 1]</head>
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   <stage rend="italic centred" type="entrance">Enter the Princ<gap extent="1"
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      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="944">Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard,</l>
      <l n="945">Against he steepe vprising of the hill?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="946">I know not, but I thinke it was not he.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="947">Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde:</l>
      <l n="948">Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch,</l>
      <l n="949">On Saterday we will returne to<hi rend="italic">France</hi>.</l>
      <l n="950">Then<hi rend="italic">Forrester</hi>my friend, Where is the<gap extent="1"
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      <l n="951">That we must stand and play the murtherer in?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-for">
      <speaker rend="italic">For.</speaker>
      <l n="952">Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,</l>
      <l n="953">A Stand where you may make the fairest shoote.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="954">I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote,</l>
      <l n="955">And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-for">
      <speaker rend="italic">For.</speaker>
      <l n="956">Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="957">What, what? First praise me, &amp; then again say no.</l>
      <l n="958">O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe.</l>
   </sp>
   <pb facs="FFimg:axc0150-0.jpg" n="130"/>
   <cb n="1"/>
   <sp who="#F-lll-for">
      <speaker rend="italic">For.</speaker>
      <p n="959">Yes Madam faire.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="960">Nay, neuer paint me now,</l>
      <l n="961">Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.</l>
      <l n="962">Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true:</l>
      <l n="963">Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-for">
      <speaker rend="italic">For.</speaker>
      <l n="964">Nothing but faire is that which you inherit.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="965">See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit.</l>
      <l n="966">O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes,</l>
      <l n="967">A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise.</l>
      <l n="968">But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill,</l>
      <l n="969">And shooting well, is then accounted ill:</l>
      <l n="970">Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote,</l>
      <l n="971">Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't:</l>
      <l n="972">If wounding, then it was to shew my skill,</l>
      <l n="973">That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill.</l>
      <l n="974">And out of question, so it is sometimes:</l>
      <l n="975">Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes,</l>
      <l n="976">When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part,</l>
      <l n="977">We bend to that, the working of the hart.</l>
      <l n="978">As I for praise alone now seeke to spill</l>
      <l n="979">The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="980">Do not curst wiues hold that selfe‑soueraigntie</l>
      <l n="981">Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be</l>
      <l n="982">Lords ore their Lords?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="983">Onely for praise, and praise we may afford,</l>
      <l n="984">To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Clowne.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="985">Here comes a member of the common‑wealth.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <p n="986">God dig‑you‑den all, pray you which is the head
      <lb n="987"/>Lady?</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="988">Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue
      <lb/>no heads</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="989">Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="990">The thickest, and the tallest.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="991">The thickest, &amp; the tallest: it is so, truth is truth.</l>
      <l n="992">And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit,</l>
      <l n="993">One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit.</l>
      <l n="994">Are not you the chiefe<choice>
            <abbr>womā</abbr>
            <expan>woman</expan>
         </choice>? You are the thickest here?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="995">What's your will sir? What's your will?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="996">I haue a Letter from Monsier<hi rend="italic">Berowne</hi>,</l>
      <l n="997">To one Lady<hi rend="italic">Rosaline</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="998">O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.</l>
      <l n="999">stand a side good bearer.</l>
      <l n="1000">
         <hi rend="italic">Boyet</hi>, you can carue,</l>
      <l n="1001">Breake vp this Capon.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boyet.</speaker>
      <l n="1002">I am bound to serue.</l>
      <l n="1003">This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here:</l>
      <l n="1004">It is writ to<hi rend="italic">Iaquenetta.</hi>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1005">We will read it, I sweare.</l>
      <l n="1006">Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">Boyet reades.</stage>
   <p>
      <c rend="droppedCapital">B</c>Y heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true
      <lb/>that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art
      <lb/>louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious,
      <lb/>truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroi­
      <lb/>call Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King
      <lb/>
      <hi rend="italic">Cophetua</hi>set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Beg­
      <lb/>ger<hi rend="italic">Zenelophon</hi>: and he it was that might rightly say,<hi rend="italic">Ve­
      <lb/>ni, vidi, vici</hi>: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O
      <lb/>base and obscure vulgar;<hi rend="italic">videliset</hi>, He came, See, and o­
      <lb/>uercame: hee came one; see, two;<choice>
         <orig>couercame</orig>
         <corr>ouercame</corr>
      </choice>three:
      <lb/>Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why<cb n="2"/>
      
      <lb/>did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the
      <lb/>Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame
      <lb/>he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose
      <lb/>side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side?
      <lb/>the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose
      <lb/>side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am
      <lb/>the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Beg­
      <lb/>ger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command
      <lb/>thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could.
      <lb/>Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou ex­
      <lb/>change for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe
      <lb/>mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on
      <lb/>thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
      <lb/>euerie part.</p>
   <p rend="italic center">
      <hi rend="italic">Thine in the dearest designe of industrie,</hi>
   </p>
   <p rend="rightJustified">Don Adriana de Armatho.</p>
   <l n="1007">Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare,</l>
   <l n="1008">Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray:</l>
   <l n="1009">Submissiue fall his princely feete before,</l>
   <l n="1010">And he from forrage will incline to play.</l>
   <l n="1011">But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then?</l>
   <l n="1012">Foode for his rage, repasture for his den.</l>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1013">What plume of feathers is hee that indited this
      <lb/>Letter?</l>
      <l n="1014">What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you
      <lb/>euer heare better?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1015">I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1016">Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1017">This<hi rend="italic">Armado</hi>is a<hi rend="italic">Spaniard</hi>that keeps here in court</l>
      <l n="1018">A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport</l>
      <l n="1019">To the Prince and his Booke‑mates.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1020">Thou fellow, a word.</l>
      <l n="1021">Who gaue thee this Letter?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clow.</speaker>
      <l n="1022">I told you, my Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1023">To whom should'st thou giue it?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1024">From my Lord to my Lady.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1025">From which Lord, to which Lady?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1026">From my Lord<hi rend="italic">Berowne</hi>, a good master of mine,</l>
      <l n="1027">To a Lady of<hi rend="italic">France</hi>, that he call'd<hi rend="italic">Rosaline</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-pri">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="1028">Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.</l>
      <l n="1029">Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1030">Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosa.</speaker>
      <l n="1031">Shall I teach you to know.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1032">I my continent of beautie.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosa.</speaker>
      <l n="1033">Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1034">My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,</l>
      <l n="1035">Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie.</l>
      <l n="1036">Finely put on.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosa.</speaker>
      <l n="1037">Well then, I am the shooter.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1038">And who is your Deare?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosa.</speaker>
      <p n="1039">If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not
      <lb n="1040"/>neare. Finely put on indeed.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Maria.</speaker>
      <l n="1041">You still wrangle with her<hi rend="italic">Boyet</hi>, and shee</l>
      <l n="1042">strikes at the brow.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boyet.</speaker>
      <l n="1043">But she her selfe is hit lower:</l>
      <l n="1044">Haue I hit her now.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosa.</speaker>
      <p n="1045">Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that
      <lb n="1046"/>was a man when King<hi rend="italic">Pippin</hi>of<hi rend="italic">France</hi>was a little boy, as
      <lb n="1047"/>touching the hit it.</p>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boyet.</speaker>
      <p n="1048">So I may answere thee with one as old that
      <lb n="1049"/>was a woman when Queene<hi rend="italic">Guinouer</hi>of<hi rend="italic">Brittaine</hi>was a
      <lb n="1050"/>little wench, as touching the hit it.</p>
   </sp>
   <pb facs="FFimg:axc0151-0.jpg" n="131"/>
   <cb n="1"/>
   <sp who="#F-lll-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rosa.</speaker>
      <l n="1051">Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,</l>
      <l n="1052">Thou canst not hit it my good man.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1053">I cannot, cannot, cannot:</l>
      <l n="1054">And I cannot, another can.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1055">By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="1056">A marke marueilous well shot, for they both
      <lb/>did hit.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1057">A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies
      <lb/>my Lady.</l>
      <l n="1058">Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="1059">Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1060">Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit
      <lb/>the clout.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1061">And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
      <lb/>is in.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1062">Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the
      <lb/>
         <choice>
            <orig>is in</orig>
            <corr resp="#LMC">pin</corr>
         </choice>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ma.</speaker>
      <l n="1063">Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow
      <lb/>foule.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1064">She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her
      <lb/>to boule.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-boy">
      <speaker rend="italic">Boy.</speaker>
      <l n="1065">I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
      <lb/>Oule.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-lll-cos">
      <speaker rend="italic">Clo.</speaker>
      <l n="1066">By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.</l>
      <l n="1067">Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.</l>
      <l n="1068">O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit,</l>
      <l n="1069">When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were,
      <lb/>so fit.</l>
      <l n="1070">
         <hi rend="italic">Armathor</hi>ath to the side, O a most dainty man.</l>
      <l n="1071">To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.</l>
      <l n="1072">To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will
      <lb/>sweare:</l>
      <l n="1073">And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,</l>
      <l n="1074">Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.</l>
      <l n="1075">Sowla, sowla.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
   <stage rend="center" type="business">Shoote within.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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