Cath. Not fo, my lord, a twelve month and a day, I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers fay. Come, when the King doth to my lady come; Then if I have much love, I'll give you fome. Dum. I'll ferve thee true and faithfully till then. Cath. Yet fwear not, left you be forfworn again. Long. What fays Maria? Maria. At the twelve month's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, your wit: With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, your wit, T'enforce the pained Impotent to fmile. Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be, it is impoffible: Mirth cannot move a foul in agony. Rof. Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit, Whofe influence is begot of that loose grace, Which fhallow laughing hearers give to fools: A jeft's profperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue And And I will have you, and that fault withal: Biron. A twelve-month? well; befall, what will be fall, I'll jeft a twelve-month in an Hospital. Prin. Ay, fweet my lord, and fo I take my leave. [to the King. King. No, Madam; we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old Play; Jack hath not Jill, thefe ladies' courtefie Might well have made our fport a Comedy. King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelve-month and a day, And then 'twill end. Biron. That's too long for a Play. Enter Armado. Arm. Sweet Majefty, vouchfafe me Dum. That worthy Knight of Troy. Arm. I will kifs thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a Votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteem'd Greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praife of the owl and the cuckow? it should have follow'd in the end of our Show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do fo. Enter all, for the Song. This fide is Hiems, winter. This Ver, the fpring: the one maintain'd by the owl, The other by the cuckow. Ver, begin. The The SONG. SPRING. When daizies pied, and violets blue, Do paint the meadows with delight; Mocks married men; for thus fings bey Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,. When Shepherds pipe on oaten ftraws, Mocks married men; for thus fings be, Cuckow cuckow! O word of fear, WINTER.. When ificles hang by the wall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; A merry note, While greafie Jone doth keel the pot.. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw ;. When |