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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.
Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you

rogue.
Ros. What would these strangers ? know their

minds, Boyet:
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes:
Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the princess?
Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation,
Ros. What would they, say they?
Boyct. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation,
Ros. 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, To tread a measure with you on this grass. Boyet. They say, that they have measur'd many a

mile,
To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Ros. It is not so ; ask them how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many,
The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyct. If, to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles; the princess bids you tell, • How many inches do fill up one mile.

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

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 so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without aceompt. Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it.

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Ros. 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 wat'ry eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one

change : Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, musick, then: nay, you must do it soon.

[Musick plays. Not yet;-no dance :-thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus

estrang'd? Ros. You took the movu at full; but now she's

chang'd. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The musick plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.
King.

But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are straugers, and come here by

chance, We'll not be nice : take hands ;-we will not dance.

King. Why take we hands then?
Ros.

Only to part friends: Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your

company?
Ros. Your absence only.
King.

That can never be. Ros. Then cannot we be bought: aud so adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you!

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

I am best pleas'd with that.

(They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

L2

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. Biron. Nay then, two treys (an if you grow so

nice), Metheglin, 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 secret.
Prin.

Let it pot be sweet.
Biron. Thou griev'st my gall.
Prin.

Gall? bitter. Biron.

Tlrerefore meet.

[They conterse apart. Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a

word? Mar. Name it. Dum.

Fair lady, Mur.

Say you so? Fair lord, Take that for your fair lady. Dum.

Please it you, As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. !

[They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a

tongue? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kuth. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.

Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ;-Is not veal a

calf?
Long. A calf, fair lady?
Kath.

No, a fair lord calf.
Long. Let's part the word.
Kath.

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 sharp

mocks! Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.

• Falsify dice, lye.

Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kalh. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry.

[They converse apart. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as

keen

As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

Above the sense of sense : so sensible. Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter

things, Ros. 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, Lords, Moth, musick, and at

tendants. Prin. I'wenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths

puft'd out. Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat,

fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to night?

Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ? This pert Birou was out of couutenance quite,

Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases ! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit.

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point*, quoth I ; my servant straight was mute.

Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And trow you, what he call'd me? Prin..

Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin.

Go, sickness as thou art I

# A quibble on the French adverb of aegation,

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear the king is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Birón hath plighted faith to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.

Bovet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes; for it can never be, They will digest this harsh indignity.

Prin. Will they return?

Boyet. They will, they will, God knows; And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore, change favourst; and when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in the summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be under

stood. Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud : Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture show, Are angels vailing clouds or roses blown.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo ? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless I gear; And wonder what they were ; and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us. Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at

hand. Prir. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.

(Exeunt Princers, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in

their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the prin

cess?

• Better wits may be found among citizens. treatures, countenances. | Uncouth.

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