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Moth. A boly 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 eyes—— With your fun-beamed eyes

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithete; You were beft call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me

out.

Biron. Is this your perfectnefs? be gone, you rogue.
Rof. What would thefe ftrangers? know their
minds, Boyet.

If they do fpeak our language, 'tis our Will
That fome plain man recount their purposes.
Know, what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the Princess?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rof. What would they, fay they?

Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation. Rof. Why, That they have; and bid them fo be gone. Boyet. She fays, you have it; and you may be gone. King. Say to her, we have meafur'd many miles, To tread a measure with her on the grass.

Boyet. They fay, that they have meafur'd many a mile,

To tread a meafure with you on this grass.

Rof. It is not fo. Ask them, how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measur❜d many, The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles; the Princess bids you tell,

How

How many inches doth fill up one mile?

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary fteps. 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 ftill without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhew the fun-fhine of your face,
That we (like favages) may worship it.

Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. King. Bleffed are clouds, to do as fuch clouds do. Vouchfafe, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to shine (Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.

Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now requeft'ft but moon-fhine in the water. King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one change;

Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not ftrange.
Rof. Play, mufick, 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 mufick plays, vouchfafe fome motion to it. Rof. Our ears vouchfafe 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, fweet hearts, and fo the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.

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King. Prize your felves then; what buys your company?

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 sweet 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 malmfeywell run, dice: There's half a dozen fweets.

Prin. Seventh fweet, adieu;

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 vouchfafe 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 fpeechlefs vizor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutch man; is not veal calf?

Long.

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 your felf in thefe fharp 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
As is the razor's edge, invincible,

Cutting a fmaller hair than may be feen:

Above the fenfe of fenfe, fo fenfible

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.

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Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the Breed of wits fo wondred at?

Boyet. Tapers they are with your sweet breaths puft

out.

Rof. 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, fhew their faces?

This pert
Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cafes.
The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.

S 4

Prin.

Prin. Biron did fwear himself out of all fuit. Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his fword: No, point, quoth I; my fervant ftraight was mute. Cath. Lord Longaville faid, I came o'er his heart; And, trow you, what he call'd me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps.

Cath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, fickness as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
But will you hear? the King is my love fworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my fervice born.
Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here

In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digeft 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; and, when they repair, Blow, like fweet rofes, in this fummer air.

Prin. How, blow? how, blow? fpeak to be understood.

Boyet. "Fair ladies, maskt, are roses in the bud ; "Or angels veil'd in clouds: are roses blown, "Difmaskt, their damask fweet Commixture fhewn.

6 Fair ladies, maskt, are rofes in the bud;

Difmaskt, their damask fweet commixture fhewn,

Prin.

Are ANGELS VEILING clouds, or rofes blown.] This ftrange nonfenfe, made worfe by the jumbling together and tranfpofing the lines, I directed Mr. Theobald to read thus,

Fair ladies masked are rofes in the bud;

Or ANGELS VEIL'D IN clouds: are roses blown,
Difmaskt, their damask sweet commixture fhewn.

But he willing to fhew how well he could improve a thought, would print it,

-Or Angel-veiling Clouds,

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