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Prin. And will they fo? the gallants fhall be tafk'd;
For, Ladies, we will every one be mask'd:
And not a man of them fhall have the grace,
Despight of fuit, to see a lady's face.

Hold, Rofaline; this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the King will court thee for his dear:
Hold, take you this, my fweet, and give me thine;
So fhall Biron take me for Rosaline,

And change your favours too; fo fhall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.

Rof Come on then, wear the favours moft in fight.
Cath. But in this changing, what is your intent?
Prin. Th' effect of my intent is to cross theirs;
They do it but in mocking merriment,
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their feveral councils they unbofom shall
To loves miftook, and fo be mock'd withal,
Upon the next occafion that we meet,
With vifages difplay'd, to talk and greet.

Rof. But fhall we dance, if they defire us to’t? Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot; Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace: But while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the fpeaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt,
The reft will ne'er come in, if he be out.

There's no fuch fport, as fport by fport o'erthrown,
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own;
So fhall we stay, mocking intended game;

And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.

[Sound. Boyet. The trumpet founds; be mask'd, the maskers

come.

SCENE V.

Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, difguis'd like Mufcovites; Moth with mufic, as for a mufquerade.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
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VOL. II.

Boget.

Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. ́
Moth. A boly parcel of the faireft dames,
That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views.

Out

[The ladies turn their backs to him.

Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views.

Biron. True: out, indeed.

Moth. Out of your favours, heav'nly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold.

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your fun-beamed eyes— With your fun-beamed eyes

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet;

You were beft call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue,
Rof. What would thefe ftrangers? know their minds,
Boyet.

If they do fpeak our language, 'tis our will
That fome plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the Princefs?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rof. What would they, fay they?

Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rof. Why, that they have; and bid them fo be gone.
Boyet. She fays, you have it; and you may be gone.
King. Say to her, we have meafur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on the grass.

Boyet. They fay, that they have meafur'd many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on this grafs,

Rof. It is not fo. Ask them, how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many,

The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles,
And many miles; the Princefs bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill up one mile?

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet. She hears herself.

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Rof. How many weary steps

Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,

Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you; Our duty is fo rich, fo infinite,

That we may do it ftill without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhew the funfhine of your
face,
That we (like favages) may worship it.

Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King. Bleffed are clouds, to do as fuch clouds do.
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to fhine
(Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.

Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now requeft'ft but moonshine in the water. King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one change; Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not strange.

Rof. Play, mufic, then; nay, you must do it foon, Not yet? no dance? thus change I, like the moon. King. Will you not dance? how come you thus efrang'd?

Rof. You took the moon at full, but now she's

chang'd.

King. Yet ftill fhe is the moon, and I the man. The mufic plays, vouchsafe some motion to it.

Rof. Our ears vouchsafe it.

King. But your legs should do it.

Rof. Since you are ftrangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice; take hands;—we will not dance. King. Why take you hands then!

Rof. Only to part friends;

Court'fy, fweet hearts, and fo the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.

King. Prize yourfelves then; what buys your company?
Rof. Your abfence only.

King. That can never be.

Rof. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu;

Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Rof. In private then.

King. I am beft pleas'd with that.

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Biron.

Biron. White-handed mistress, one fweet word with

thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and fugar, there is three. Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow fo nice, Methegline, wort, and malmsey;- -well run, dice:

There's half a dozen sweets.

Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu;

Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.

Biron. One word in fecret.

Prin. Let it not be sweet.

Biron. Thou griev't my gall.

Prin. Gall? bitter

Biron. Therefore meet.

Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? Mar. Name it.

Dum. Fair Lady,

Mar. Say you fo? fair Lord:

Take that for your fair Lady.

Dum. Please it you;

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.

Cath. What, was your visor made without a tongue? Long. I know the reafon, Lady, why you afk. Cath. O, for your reason! quickly, Sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mafk, And would afford my fpeechlefs vizor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutch-man; is not veal a calf? Long. A calf, fair Lady?

Cath. No, a fair Lord calf.

Long. Let's part the word.

Cath. No, I'll not be your half;

Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these fharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chafte Lady? do not fo.

Cath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Cath. Bleat foftly then, the butcher hears you cry.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge, invincible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen:

Above the fense of sensible, so sensible

Seemetk

Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, fwifter

things.

Rof. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break

off.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure fcoff.— King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have fimple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords.

SCENE VI.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Mufcovites. Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at?

Boyet. Tapers they are with your sweet breaths puff'd

out.

Rof. Well-liking wits they have; grofs, grofs; fat,

fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout!
Will they not (think you) hang themselves to-night?
Or ever, but in vizors, fhew their faces!
This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Ruf. O they were all in lamentable cafes.
The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin. Biron did fwear himself out of all fuit.
Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his fword:
No, point, quoth I; my fervant ftraight was mute.
Cath. Lord Longaville faid I came o'er his heart,
And trow you what he call'd me?

Prin. Qualm, perhaps.

Cath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, fickness as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps.
But will you hear? the King is my love fworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear;
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be
They will digeft this harsh indignity.

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Prin.

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