Page:Love's Labour's Lost (1925) Yale.djvu/55

Love's Labour's Lost, IV. ii

Cost. Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.

[Exeunt Boyet and Maria.]

Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!

Lord, lord, how the ladies and I have put him down!

O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit!

When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.

Armado, o' the one side, O! a most dainty man.

To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!

To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' will swear!

And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit!

Ah! heavens, it is a most pathetical nit.

Sola, sola!

Nath. Very reverend sport, truly: and done

in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in

blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth

like a jewel in the ear of cælo, the sky, the welkin,

 140 upshoot: upshot, leading shot in a competition

pin: wooden pin holding up the clout

141 greasily: grossly

142 bowl: bowling

152 pathetical nit: pleasing little fellow  4 pomewater: a kind of apple

