And shape to win grace, though he had no wit. I saw him at the duke Alanzon's once, And much too little of that good I faw Rof. Another of these students at that time His eye begets occafion for his wit; Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love, every one her own hath garnished With fuch bedecking ornaments of praise ? Enter Boyet. Prin. Now, what admittance, lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he and his competitors in oath Were all addrefs'd to meet you, gentle lady, SCENE SCENE II. Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and attendants. King. You fhall be welcome, madam, to my court. Prin. Were my lord fo, his ignorance were wife, But pardon me, I am too fudden bold: King. Madam, I will, if fuddenly I may. Rof. How needlefs was it then to ask the question ! Rof. 'Tis long of you that spur me with fuch questions. Biron. Your wit's too hot, it fpeeds too fast, 'twill tire. Biron. What time o' day? Rof. Rof. The hour that fools should ask. gone. King. Madam, your father here doth intimate But fay that he, or we, as neither have, Which we much rather had depart withal, Dear princefs, were not his requests so far From reafon's yielding, your fair felf should make A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, And go well fatisfied to France again. Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In fo unfeeming to confefs receipt Of that which hath so faithfully been pay'd. And And if you prove it, I'll repay it back, Prin. We arreft your word; King. Satisfy me so. Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not come, King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview, Mean-time, receive fuch welcome at my hand, Prin. Sweet health and fair defires comfort your grace! King. Thy own wifh wish I thee in every place. [Exit. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. I would be glad to see it. [Exit. 2 Biron. I would, you heard it groan.* 1111 heard it groan. Rof. Is the fool fick? Biron. Would that do it good? Ref. My phyfick fays, ay. Biren. Will you prick't with your eye? Ref. No poynt, with my knife. Biron. Now, god fave thy life! Rof. And yours from long living! * Soul. [Exit. Dum. Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that fame? Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady! monfieur, fare you well. Long. I befeech you, a word: what is the in white? * Lông. She is a most sweet lady. Boyet. Not unlike, fir, that may be." If my obfervation (which very feldom lies) Of the heart's ftill rhetorick, difclofed with eyes, that may be. Biron. What's her name in the cap? Boyet. Catharine, by good hap. Biron. Is the wedded, or no? Boyet. To her will, fir, or fo. Biron. You are welcome, fir: adieu. Boyet. Farewel to me, fir, and welcome to you. Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jeft. Boyet. And every jest but a word. Prin. It was well done of you, to take him at his word. Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board. Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry. Boyet. And wherefore not fhips? No fheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You fheep, and I pafture; fhall that finish the jeft? Boyet. So you grant pafture for me. Mar. Not fo, gentle beaft; My lips are no common, though feveral they be. Boyet. Belonging to whom? Mar. To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree. This civil war of wits were much better us'd On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd. Boyet. If my, &c. [Exit. [Exit Long. [Exit Biron. O 2 Boyet |