Prin. And will they fo? the gallants fhall be task'd; Hold, Rofaline; this favour thou shalt wear, And change your favours too; fo fhall your loves Rof. Come on then, wear the favours most 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. Rof. But fhall we dance, if they defire us to 't? Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part. Prin. Therefore I do it; The reft will ne'er come in, and I make no doubt, There's no fuch sport, as fport by sport o'erthrown, 'To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; So fhall we ftay, mocking intended game; And they, well mock'd, depart away with fhame. [Sound: Boyet. The trumpet founds; be mask'd, the maskers Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, difguis'd like Mufcovites; Moth with mufic, as for a masquerade. Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth! Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames, That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views. [The ladies turn their backs to him. Biron. Their eyes, villain, 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 fun-beamed eyesWith your fun-beamed eyes Boyet. They will not anfwer 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. If they do fpeak our language, 'tis our will Boyet. What would you with the Princess? Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation. Boyet. They fay, that they have meafur'd many a mile, To tread a measure with you on this grass. Rof. It is not fo. Afk them, how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many, The measure then of one is eafily told. Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles; the Princess bids you tell, How many inches doth fill up one mile ? Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. She hears herself. 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 still without accompt. Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. 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 eftrang'd? Rof. You took the moon at full, but now fhe's chang'd. King. Yet ftill fhe is the moon, and I the man. The mufic plays, vouchfafe fome motion to it. Rof. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs fhould 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; Curt'fie, sweet hearts, and fo the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. 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. 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 ;- Prin. Seventh fweet, adieu; -well run, dice: 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'ft 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 vifor made without a tongue ? Long. I know the reafon, Lady, why you ask. Cath. O, for your reafon! quickly, Sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechlefs 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 sharp 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 Cutting a fmaller hair than may be feen: Above the sense of sensible, so sensible 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. Farewel, mad wenches; you have fimple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords. SCENE VI. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. out. Rof. Well-liking wits they have; grofs, grofs; fat, fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout! Cath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, ficknefs as thou art! Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps. |