Biron. Is this your perfectnefs? be gone, you rogue. If they do speak our language, 'tis our Will Boyet. What would you with the Princess? Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation. 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 measure with you on this grafs. Rof. It is not fo. Ask them, how many inches Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, How many inches doth fill up one mile? Biron. Tell her we measure them by weary steps. Rof. How many weary fteps Of many weary miles, you have o’ergone, Biron. We number nothing that we spend for Our duty is fo rich, fo infinite, That we may do it ftill without accompt. you; 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 fars, to shine (Thofe clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne. Rof. O vain petitioner. beg a greater matter; Thou now request'ft but moon shine 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 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; King. Why take you hands then! Rof. Only to part friends; we will not dance. Curt'fie, fweet hearts, and fo the measure ends. King. Prize yourselves then; what buys your company? Rof. Your abfence only. King. That can never be. Rof. Then cannot we be bought; and fo, adieu; King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. King. I am beft pleas'd with That. Biron. White-handed miftrefs, one fweet word with thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and fugar, there is three. Methegline, wort, and malmfey; nice, well 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'st 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 vizor made without a tongue? tongue within your mask, And would afford my fpeechlefs 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 As is the razor's edge, invincible, Cutting a smaller 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. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the Breed of wits fo wondred at? Boyet Tapers they are, with your fweet breaths puft out. Rof. Well-liking wits they have; grofs, grofs; fat, fat, Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout! Cath. Lord Longaville faid, I came o'er his heart: Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Cath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, ficknefs as thou art! Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps. you hear? the King is my love fworn. But will v Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. In their own shapes; for it can never be, Prin. Will they return?. Boyet. They will, they will, God knows ; Therefore, change Favours; and, when they repair Blow, like fweet rofes, in this fummer air, Prin. How, blow how, blow? fpeak to be under ftood. Boyet Fair ladies, maskt, are rofes in their bud; T VOL. II. L Or Or angel-veiling clouds: are rofes blown, Rof. Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Boyet. Ladies, withdraw, the Gallants are at hand. A CT V. SCENE, before the Princess's Pavilion. F Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, KING. AIR Sir, God fave you! Where's the Princess? Pleafe it your Majefty, command me any service King. That the vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and fo will fhe, I know, my lord. [Exit. Biron. This fellow picks up wit, as pidgeons peas; And utters it again, when Jove doth please; He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares -At wakes and waffals, meetings, markets, fairs : And we that fell by grofs, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. |