Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt King, and Lords. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.Are these the breed of wits so wondred 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! 440 Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night? Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, sickness as thou art! 450 Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps. But will you hear? the king is my love sworn, Mar. Ramberg del Thornthwaite foulp! M."BULKELEY in PRINCESS of FRANCE. Twenty Adicus, my frozen Muscovite Landon Printed for J. Bell British Library Strand Sept! 201785. |