[115] Moth. [Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better [116] love than my master.
[117] Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth. And that’s great marvel, loving a light wench.
Arm. I say, sing.
[120] Moth. Forbear till this company be past.
Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta.
Dull. Sir, the duke’s pleasure is, that you keep Costard [122] safe: and you must suffer him to take no delight nor no [123] penance; but a’ must fast three days a week. For this damsel, I must keep her at the park: she is allowed for [125] the day-woman. Fare you well.
Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid.
Jaq. Man.
Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.