Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your majefty, command me any service to her? At wakes, and waffails, meetings, markets, fairs: To fhow his teeth as white as whale his bone. And consciences, that will not die in debt, Pay him the due of honey-tongu'd Boyet. King. A blifter on his sweet tongue with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! SCENE VIII. [Exit. Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Boyet, and King. We come to vifit you, and purpose now King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke; Prin. You nickname virtue: vice you should have spoke: Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure · As the unfully'd lilly, I proteft, King. How, madam? Ruffians? Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Rof. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord: My lady (to the manner of the days) In courtely gives undeferving praise. We four, indeed, confronted were with four Biron. This jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle, sweet, By light we lose light; your capacity Is Is of that nature, as to your huge ftore Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. Rof. But that you take what doth to you belong, Biron. I cannot give you lefs. Rof. Which of the vifors was it that you wore ? Biron. Where? when? what vifor? why demand you Rof. There, then, that vifor; that fuperfluous cafe, That hid the worfe, and fhow'd the better face. this? King. We are descried; they'll mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your highness fad ? Rof. Help! hold his brows! he'll fwoon! why look you pale? Seafick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the ftars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here ftand I, lady; dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout, Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance, And I will wifh thee never more to dance, O! never will I trust to speeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue, Nor never come in visor to my friend, Nor woo in rhyme like a blind harper's fong; Taffata phrases, filken terms precife, Three-pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation, Figures pedantical; thefe fummer flies Have blown me full of maggot oftentation. I do forfwear them, and I here proteft, By this white glove, (how white the hand, god knows) Henceforth my wooing mind fhall be express'd In ruffet yeas, and honeft kerfey noes: And, to begin, wench, (fo god help me, law!) Biron. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage: bear with me, I am fick. They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes: For the lord's tokens on you both I fee. Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. Prin. The faireft is confeffion. Were you not here but even now disguis'd? King. Madam, I was. Prin. And were you well advis'd? King. I was, fair madam. Prin. When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Prin. When the fhall challenge this, you will reject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. Prin. Peace, peace! forbear! Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear. King. Defpife me when I break this oath of mine. Rof. Madam, he fwore that he did hold me dear Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this lady fuch an oath. Rof. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, fir, again. King. My faith, and this to th' princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her fleeve. Prin. Pardon me, fir, this jewel did she wear: To dish it like a christmas comedy. Some carry-tale, fome please-man, fome flight zany, [to Boyet. You |