ASO. Ay, ay, sir.
AMO. Or, if you can possess your opposite, that the green your
mistress wears, is her rejoicing or exultation in his service; the
yellow, suspicion of his truth, from her height of affection: and
that he, greenly credulous, shall withdraw thus, in private, and
from the abundance of his pocket (to displace her jealous conceit)
steal into his hat the colour, whose blueness doth express
trueness, she being not so, nor so affected; you give him the dor.
ASO. Do not I know it, sir?
AMO. Nay, good -- swell not above your understanding. There is
yet a third dor in colours.
ASO. I know it too, I know it.
AMO. Do you know it too? what is it? make good your knowledge.
ASO. Why it is -- no matter for that.
AMO. Do it, on pain of the dor.
ASO. Why; what is't, say you?
AMO. Lo, you have given yourself the dor. But I will remonstrate
to you the third dor, which is not, as the two former dors,
indicative, but deliberative: as how? as thus. Your rival is,
with a dutiful and serious care, lying in his bed, meditating how
to observe his mistress, dispatcheth his lacquey to the chamber
early, to know what her colours are for the day, with purpose to
apply his wear that day accordingly: you lay wait before,
preoccupy the chamber-maid, corrupt her to return false colours; he
follows the fallacy, comes out accoutred to his believed
instructions; your mistress smiles, and you give him the dor.
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