Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

[Gives a paper. King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away; For you'll prove perjured, if you make me stay. Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Biron. I know you did.

Ros.

To ask the question!

Biron.

How needless was it then

You must not be so quick.

Ros. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such

questions.

Biron. Your wit's too hot; it speeds too fast; 'twill

tire.

Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire.

Biron. What time o' day?

Ros. The hour that fools should ask.

Biron. Now fair befall your mask!
Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!
Biron. And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.
Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.

King. Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.

But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,)
Received that sum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If then the king your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,

To have his title live in Aquitain;

Which we much rather had depart1 withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.

Dear princess, were not his requests so far

From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding 'gainst some reason, in
my breast,
And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name,

In so unseeming to confess receipt

Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.
King. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin.
Boyet, you can produce acquittances,
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

We arrest your word.—

Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound. To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me; at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto.

Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honor, without breach of honor, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so received,
As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbor in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell.
To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your

grace!

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!

[Exeunt King and his Train.

1 To depart and to part were anciently synonymous.

Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own

heart.

Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would you heard it

Ros. Is the fool sick?

Biron. Sick at the heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

groan.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Ros. My Physic says, I.1

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?

Ros. No point, with my

knife.

Biron. Now, God save thy life!

Ros. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.

[Retiring.

Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word. What lady is that

same?

Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name.
Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.

[Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word. What is she in the

white?

Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.

Long. Perchance, light in the light. I desire her

name.

Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that, were a shame.

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's blessing on your beard!
Boyet. Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be. [Exit LONG.

1 The old spelling of the affirmative particle ay is here retained for the sake of the rhyme.

2 Point, in French, is an adverb of negation, but, if properly spoken, is not sounded like the English word. A quibble was, however, intended.

Biron. What's her name, in the cap?
Boyet. Katharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is she wedded, or no?

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.

Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu!

Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit BIRON.-Ladies unmask.

Mar. That last is Biron, the merry, mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet.
And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his

word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to

board.

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!

Boyet.

And wherefore not ships?

No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish

the jest?

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

[Offering to kiss her. Not so, gentle beast;

Mar.
My lips are no common, though several1 they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar.

To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling, but, gentles,

agree;

The civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.
Boyet. If my observation, (which, very seldom
lies,)

By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. Prin. Your reason?

1 A quibble is here intended upon the word several, which, besides its ordinary signification of separate, distinct, signified also an inclosed pasture, as opposed to an open field or common. Bacon and others used it in this sense.

1

Boyet. Why, all his behaviors did make their retire, To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire; His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed; His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,' Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; All senses to that sense did make their repair, To feel only looking on fairest of fair. Methought, all his senses were locked-in his eye, As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ;

Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glassed,

Did point you to buy them along as you passed.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
Prin. Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed-
Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye
hath disclosed.

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news

of him.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

Mar.

Boyet.

No.

Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.

Boyet.

What then, do you see?

You are too hard for me.

[Exeunt.

1 Although the expression in the text is extremely odd, yet the sense appears to be, that his tongue envied the quickness of his eyes, and strove to be as rapid in its utterance, as they in their perception.

2 In Shakspeare's time, notes, quotations, &c. were usually printed in the exterior margin of bocks.