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Prin. And will they fo? the gallants shall be talk'd; For, Ladies, we will every one be mask'd: And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despight of fuit, to see a lady's face. Hold, Rosaline; this favour thou shalt wear, And then the King will court thee for his dear: Hold, take you this, my sweet, and give me thine; So shall Biron take me for Rosaline, And change your favours too; so shall your
loves Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.
Ros Come on then, wear the favours most in fight.
Prin. Th'effect of my intent is to cross theirs ;
Rof. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?
Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot;
Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part.
Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt,
[Sound. Boyet. The trumpet sounds; be malk'd, the markers
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants,
disguis'd like Muscovites ; Moth with music, as for a masquerade. Moth. All bail, the richell beauties on the earth! Vol. II. R
Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. .'
Moth. A boly parcel of the faireft dames, That ever turn'd iheir backs to mortal views.
[The ladies turn their backs to him. Biron. Their
vilīain, their eyes. Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views. Out
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 sun-beamed eyes — With your sun-beamed eyes
Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet; You were best call it daughter-beamed eyes.
Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
Boyet. What would you with the Princess?
. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. Boyet. She says, you have it; and you may be gone.
King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles,
inches doth fill up one mile?
Rof. How many weary steps
Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you;
face, That we (like favages) may worship it.
Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do. Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine (Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.
Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now request't 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, music, 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 e
ftrang'd? Rof. You took the moon at full, but now she's
chang'a. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays, vouchsafe fome motion to it.
Rof. Our ears vouchfafe it. King. But your legs should do it. Rof. Since you are strangers, and come here hy chance, We'll not be nice; take hands ;-we will not dance.
King. Why take you hands then!
Rof. Only to part friends ;
King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Ros. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu;
King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Birou. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with
Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow so nice, Methegline, wort, and malmsey; well run, dice: There's half a dozen sweets.
Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu;
Biron. One word in secret.
Mar. Say you so? fair Lord:
Dum, Please it you;
Cath. What, was your visor made without a tongue?
Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,
Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutch-man; is not veal a calf?
Cath. No, I'll not be your half;
As is the razor's edge, invincible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen: Above the sense of fenfible, so fenfible
Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
things. Rof. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break
off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff. King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
[Exeunt King and Lords.
Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are with your sweet breaths puff'd
out. Ros. 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, shew their faces! This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Ruf. O! they were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No, point, quoth I; my fervant ftraight was mute.
Cath. Lord Longaville faid I came o'er his heart,
Prin. Qualm, perhaps.
Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
you hear? the King is my love sworn.
service born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistreffes, give ear;