Actus Tertius.
Enter Braggart and Boy.
Song.
Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing
Boy. Concolinel
Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my Loue
Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule? Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French? Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these? Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience? Boy. By my penne of obseruation
Brag. But O, but O
Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot
Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse
Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie: but haue you forgot your Loue? Brag. Almost I had
Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart
Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy
Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will proue
Brag. What wilt thou proue? Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her, being out of heart that you cannot enioy her
Brag. I am all these three
Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all
Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a letter
Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour for an Asse
Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou? Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse for he is verie slow gated: but I goe
Brag. The way is but short, away
Boy. As swift as Lead sir
Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a mettall heauie, dull, and slow? Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no
Brag. I say Lead is slow
Boy. You are too swift sir to say so. Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne? Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike, He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he: I shoote thee at the Swaine
Boy. Thump then, and I flee
Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace, By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place. My Herald is return'd. Enter Page and Clowne.
Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin
Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy begin
Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan