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Biron. I know you did.

Rof. How needless was it then to ask the question?
Biron. You must not be fo quick.

Rof. 'Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.
Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
Rof. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.

Biron. What time a day?

Rofa. The hour that fools fhould ask.

Biron. Now fair befall your mask.

Rofa. Fair fall the face it covers.
Biron. And fend you many lovers.
Rofa. 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 th' one half of an intire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.

But say that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv'd that fum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in furety 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 unfatisfy'd,
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

An hundred thousand crowns, and not 'demands
One payment of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;

Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the mony by our father lent,

a remembers

Than

Than Aquitain fo 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 fatisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In fo unseeming to confefs 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. We arreft your word:

Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For fuch a fum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfie 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 fight of them.

King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview,

All liberal reason I will yield unto:
Mean time receive fuch 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 fhall be fo receiv'd,

As you shall deem your felf lodg'd in my heart,

b

Tho' fo deny'd fair harbour in my house:

Your own good thoughts excufe me, and farewel;
To-morrow we fhall vifit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair defires comfort your Grace.
King. Thy own wish, wish I thee, in every place.

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[Exit.

Biron.

Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.
Rofa. I pray you do my commendations;

I would be glad to fee it.

Biron. I would you heard it groan.

[Exit.

Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame?
Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name.
Dum. A gallant lady; Monfieur fare you well.
Long. I beseech you a word: what is fhe in white ?*
Boyet. She is an heir of Faulconbridge.
Long. She is a most sweet lady.

[Exit.

*

[Exit Long.

If

Boyet. Not unlike Sir, that may be.*

heard it groan.

Rofa. Is the fool fick?
Biron. Sick at the heart.

Rofa. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Rofa. My phyfick fays ay.

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye.

Rofa. No poynt, with my knife.

Biron. Now God fave thy life.

Rofa. And yours from long living.

Biron. I cannot ftay thanksgiving.

Dum. Sir, &c.

fhe in white?

Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the light.

Long. Perchance light in the light: I defire her name.

Boyet. She hath but one for her felf; to defire that were a fhame.

Long. Pray you Sir, whofe daughter?

Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.

Long. God's bleffing on your beard.

Boyet. Good Sir be not offended.

She is an, &c.

-Faulconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choller is ended: She is,&c.

*that may be.

Biron. What's her name in the cap?

Boyet. Katherine by good hap.

Biron. Is the wedded or no?

[Exit.

Boyet. To her will, Sir, or fo.

Biron. You are welcome Sir: adieu.

Boyet. Farewel to me Sir, and welcome to you.

[Exit Biron. Mar.

t foul.

If

my observation (which very seldom lyes,

By the heart's still rhetorick, difclofed with eyes)

Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. *

Rosa. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakeft skilfully.

Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;

Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jeft 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 fheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not ships?

No theep (fweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips.
Mar. You fheep, and I pasture; fhall that finish the jest?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

Mar. Not fo, gentle beast;

My lips are no common, though several they be.

Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but gentles agree.

This civil war of wits were much better us'd

On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd.
Boyet. If my, &c.

is infected.

Prin. With what?

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

Boyet. Why all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire:
His heart like an agat with your print impressed;
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expreffed:
His tongue all impatient to fpeak and not fee,
Did ftumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be:
All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair,
To feel only looking on faireft of fair;

Methought all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in chryftal for fome Prince to buy;

Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glaft,
Did point out to buy them, along as you past.

His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes,
That all eyes faw his eyes inchanted with gazes:

I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

And you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.
Prin. Come to our pavilion, Boyet is difpos'd.

Boyet. But to fpeak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd;

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Rofa. Thou art, &c.

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Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. › Rofa. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

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W

ACT III. SCENE I.

The PAR K.

Enter Armado and Moth.

SONG.

ARMADO.

ARBLE child, make paffionate my sense of hearing.

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Arm. Sweet air; go tenderness of years; take this key, give inlargement to the fwain; bring him festinately hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my love.

Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl? Arm. How mean'st thou, brawling in French?

Moth. No my compleat mafter, but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; figh a note and fing a note, fometimes through the throat: if you swallow'd love with finging, love fometime through the nose, as if you fnuft up love by fmelling

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love,

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