BIRON. Thou griev'st my gall.

PRIN. Gall? bitter.

BIRON. Therefore meet.

[They converfe apart.

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.

[They converfe apart.

KATH. What, was your visor made without a tongue? LONG. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

KATH. O, for your reafon! quickly, fir; I long.

LONG. You have a double tongue within

And would afford my speechless visor half.

your mask,

KATH. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ;-Is not veal a calf?

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.

KATH. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow,
LONG. One word in private with you, e'er I die.
KATH. Bleat foftly then, the butcher hears you cry.
[They converfe apart.

BOYET. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invifible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be feen;

Above the sense of sense: fo fenfible

Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, fwifter things. Ros. 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, LORDS, MOTH, Mufick, and Attendants. PRIN. Twenty adieus, my frozen Mufcovites.— Are these the breed of wit fo wonder'd at?

BOYET. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd

out.

Ros. 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 visors, fhow their faces?

This pert Birón was out of countenance quite.
Ros. O they were all in lamentable cafes!
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
PRIN. Birón did swear himself out of all fuit.
MAR. Dumain was at my service, and his fword:
No point, quoth I; my fervant straight was mute.
KATH. Lord Longaville faid, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you, what he call'd me?

PRIN. Qualm, perhaps.

KATH. Yes, in good faith.

PRIN. Go, fickness as thou art!

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps. But will you hear? the king is my love fworn.

PRIN. And quick Birón hath plighted faith to me. KATH. And Longaville was for my fervice born. MAR. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree. BOTET. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear: Immediately they will again be here

In their own fhapes; 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 roses in this fummer air.

PRIN. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
BOYET. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud:
Dismask'd, their damask fweet commixture fhown,
Are angels vailing clouds, or rofes 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 ftill, as well known, as difguis'd:
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Difguis'd like Mufcovites, in fhapeless gear;
And wonder, what they were; and to what end
Their fhallow fhows, and prologue vilely penn'd,
And their rough carriage fo ridiculous,
Should be prefented 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 fir, God fave you! Where is the princess? BorET. Gone to her tent: Please it

your majesty, Command me any fervice to her thither?

KING. That fhe vouchfafe me audience for one word. BOYET. I will; and fo 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 waffels, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that fell by grofs, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with fuch fhow.
This gallant pins the wenches on his fleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lifp: Why, this is he,
That kifs'd away his hand in courtesy;
This is the ape of form, monfieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can fing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, fweet;
The ftairs, as he treads on them, kifs his feet:
This is the flower that fmiles on every one,
To fhow his teeth as white as whales bone:
And confciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
KING. A blifter on his sweet tongue, with
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Enter the PRINCESS, ufber'd by BorET; ROSALINE,
MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.

my heart,

BIRON. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what wert

thou,

Till this man fhow'd thee? and what art thou now?
KING. All hail, fweet madam, and fair time of day!
PRIN. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
KING. Conftrue my speeches better, if you may.
PRIN. Then with me better, I will give you leave.
KING. We came to vifit you; and purpose now

To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then.
PRIN. This field fhall hold me; and fo hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men.

The virtue of your eye

KING. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ;
your eye must break my oath.
PRIN. You nick-name virtue vice you fhould have
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. [fpoke;
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure

As the unfullied lily, I proteft,

A world of torments though I fhould 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 defolation here,
Unfeen, unvifited, much to our fhame.
PRIN. Not fo, my lord; it is not fo, I fwear;
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game;
A mefs of Ruffians left us but of late,

KING. HOW, madam? Ruffians?

PRIN. Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Ros. Madam, fpeak true:-It is not fo my lord;
My lady, (to the manner of the days,)
In courtesy, gives undeferving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted were with four

In Ruffian 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 thirfty, fools would fain have drink.

BIRON. This jeft is dry to me.Fair, gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wife things foolish: when we greet
With eyes beft feeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: Your capacity
Is of that nature, that to your huge store

Wife things feem foolish, and rich things but poor.