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Mar.

Say you so? Fair lord,→

Please it you,

Take that for your fair lady.

Dum.

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.
Kath. 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.

half:

Long. Let's part the word.
Kath.
No, I'll not be your
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.
Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you
[They converse apart.

cry.

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, music, and attend

ants.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'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 Birón was out of countenance 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.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.
Prin.

Qualm, perhaps.

Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute

caps.2

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.
Boyet. 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 favours ;3 and when they repair,

(1) A quibble on the French adverb of negation. (2) Better wits may be found among citizens., Features, countenances.

Blow like sweet roses in the summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.

Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels veiling 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' 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.

Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria.

Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits.

King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess?

Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one

word.

Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.

[Exit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons

peas;

And utters it again when God doth please:
He is wit's pedler; and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassels,2 meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

(1) Uncouth.

(2) Rustic merry-meetings.

This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he,
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy ;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That when he plays at tables, chides the dice,
In honourable terms! nay, he can sing
A mean1 most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whale's bone :2
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,

That put Armado's page out of his part!

Enter the Princess, usher'd by Boyet; Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, and attendants.

Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what wert thou,

Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?

King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose now

To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your

VOW:

Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ;

The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

(1) The tenor in music.

(2) The tooth of the horse-whale.

Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke;

For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so,
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game;
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam? Russians?

Prin.

I swear.

Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.

Ros. Madam, speak true :-It is not so, my lord;
My lady (to the manner of the days,1)
In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted here with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
Biron. This jest is dry to me-Fair, gentle
sweet,

Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet
With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: Your capacity

Is of that nature, that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my

eye,

Biron. I

am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

(1) After the fashion of the times.

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