ROSALINE Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
BOYET An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.
[Exeunt ROSALINE and KATHARINE]
COSTARD By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it!
MARIA A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.
BOYET A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!
Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.
MARIA Wide o' the bow hand! i' faith, your hand is out.
COSTARD Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
BOYET An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
COSTARD Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
MARIA Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.
COSTARD 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]
COSTARD 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' th' 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!
[Shout within]
[Exit COSTARD, running]
LOVE'S LABOURS LOST
ACT IV
SCENE II The same.
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