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Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, you rogue
Boyer. What would you with the Princess ?
King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, To tread a measure with her on the grass. Boyet. They say, that they have measur'd many a
mile, To tread a measure with you on this grass. Rof. It is not so. Ask them, how many
inches Is in one mile : if they have measur'd many, The measure then of one is easily told.
Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles; the Princess bids
tell, How many inches doth fill up one mile ?
Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Rof. How many weary steps
Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you ;
your face, That we (like favages) may worship it.
Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do. Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy fars, to shine (Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.
Ros. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter ; Thou now request't but moon-Shine in the water.
King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one
change; Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not strange.
Rof. Play, mufick, then ; nay, you must do it soon. Not yet? no dance ? thus change I, like the moon. King. Will you not dance ? how come you thus
King. But your legs should do it.
chance, :: We'll not be nice; take hands; we will not dance.
King. Why take you hands then !
Rof. Only to part friends ;
King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
That can never be.
King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
nice, Methegline, wort, and malmsey; well run, dice: There's half a dozen sweets.
Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu ;
Prin. Let it not be sweet.
Mar. Say you so ? fair lord :
Dum. Please it you ;
Cath. What, was your visor made without a tongue !
Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,
Cath. No, I'll not be your
Cath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
As is the razor's edge, invincible,
Above the sense of sense, so sensible Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
things. Rof. Not one word more, my maids ; break off,
break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure
King. Farewell, mad wenches ; you have simple wits.
[Exeunt King and Lords. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the Breed of wits so wondred at ? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths
puft out. Ros. Well - liking wits they have; gross, gross;
fat, fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor fout! Will they not (think you) hang themselves to night?
Or ever, but in vizors, fhew their faces ? This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword : No, point, quoth I; my servant strait was mute.
Cath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And, trow you, what he call'd me?
Prin. Qualm, perhaps.
Ref. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-eaps. But will you hear? the King is my love sworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: 4 Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes ; for it can never be,
Prin. Will they return ?
Boyet. They will, they will, God knows;
Or angel-veiling clouds : are roses blown,
Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do,
Ref. Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw, the Gallants are at hand.
SCENE, before the Princess's Pavilion. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain,
in their own babits; Boyet, meeting them.
AIR Sir, God save you! Where's the Princess ?
Boyet. Gone to her Tent.
to her > King. That the vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will the, I know, my lord. [Exit.
Biron. This fellow picks up wit, as pidgeons peas ;