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Is a sharp wit, match'd with too blunt a will; Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills It should spare none, that come within his power,
Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike; is't so ? Mar. They say so most, that most his humours
know. Prin. Such short-liy'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest ?
Cath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth,
Of all that virtue love, for virtue lov'd.
Most power to do most harm, leaft knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace, tho' he had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alanson's once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthiness.
Ros. Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, as I have heard a truth;
Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object, that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-inoving jeft;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales ;
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Prin. God bless my ladies, are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise !
Mar. Here comes Boyet.
Prin. Now, what admittance, Lord ?
Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he and his competitors in oath
Were all addrest to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came: marry, thus much I've learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his Court,
Than feek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house.
Here comes Navarre,
SC E N E II.
Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and
King. AIR Princess, welcome to the Court of
Navarre. Prin. Fair, I give you back again; and welcome I have not yet: the roof of this Court is too high
yours; and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine.
King. You shall be welcome, Madam, to my Court,
Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.
King. Hear me, dear lady, I have fworn an oath.
Prin. Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
King. Not for the world, fair Madam, by my will.
Prin. Why, Will shall break its will, and nothing
King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wife,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear, your Grace hath fivorn out house-keeping:
'Tis deadly fin to keep that oath, my Lord;
Not fin to break it.-
But pardon me, I am too sudden bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my Coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my
King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjur'd, 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.
Rof. How needless was it then to ask the question ?
Biron. You must not be fo quick.
Ros. 'Tis long of you, that fpur me with such
Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too faft, 'twill
Rof. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o'day?
Rof. The hour, that fools should ask.
Biron. Now fair befal your mask!
Rof. 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
of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but th' one half of an intire fum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say, that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv'd 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 valu'd to the money's worth:
If then the King your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfy'd,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his Majesty :
But that, it feems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
An hundred thousand crowns, and not demands,
of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain,
Which we much rather had depart 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 proteft, I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.
Prin. We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a fum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.
King. Satisfy me fo.
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 honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates;
But here, without, you shall be so receiv'd,
shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Tho fo deny'd fair harbour in my house:
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel;
To-morrow we shall visit you again.
Prin. Sweet health and fair desires confort your
King. Thy own Wish wish I thee, in every place.
(Exit. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.
Rof. I pray you, do my commendations;
I would be glad to see it.
Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
Ros. Is the fool fick?
Biron. Sick at the heart.
Rof. Alack, let it blood.
Biron. Would that do it good?
Rof. My physic says, ay.
Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye?
Rof. No, poynt, with my knifé.
Biron. Now God save thy life!
Rof. And yours from long living !
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.
Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that
same? Boyet. The heir of Alanson, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady; Monsieur, fare you well.
[Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word: what is she in white? Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you saw her in the
light. Long. Perchance, light in the light; I desire her
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 Faulconbridge.
Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
She is a most sweet lady.
Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be. (Exit Long.
Biron. What's her name in the cap?
Boyet. Catharine, by good hap
Biron. Is she wedded, or no ?
Boyet. To her will, Sir, or so.
Biron. You are welcome, Sir; adieu !
Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.
[Exit Biron. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jeft.