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King. Too bitter is thy jest. Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view? Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you; I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in ; I am betray'd, by keeping company With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time In pruning me? When shall you hear, that I Will praise a a foot, a face, an eye, A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb?

King. Soft; whither away so fast? A true man, or a thief, that gallops so? Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go. Enter JAQUENETTA and CoSTARD.

What makes treason here?

Jaq. God bless the king! King. What present hast thou there? Cost. Some certain treason. King. Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. If it mar nothing neither, The treason, and you, go in peace away together, Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read; Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. King. Biron, read it over. (Giving him the letter.) -Where hadst thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it? [not fear it. Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.

Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. (Picks up the pieces.) Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, (to Costard) you were born to do me shame.Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess;

He, be, and you, my liege, and I,
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron. True, true; we are four :Will these turtles be gone? King. Hence, sirs; away. Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [Exeunt Cost. and Jaquenet, Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us embrace!

As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face ; Young blood will not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn.

King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? [heavenly Rosaline, Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty?


King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; She, an attending star, scarce seen a light.

Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,

Fy, painted rhetoric! Ŏ, she needs it not: To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;


She passes praise; then praise too short doth A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine! King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine!

A wife of such wood were felicity.

Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón: O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity;

O, who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look:

No face is fair, that is not full so black.
King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,

The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night; And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.

O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt,

It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, Should ravish doters with a false aspect;

And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days;

For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black. [bright. Long. And, since her time, are colliers counted King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. [light. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain,

For fear their colours should be wash'd away. King. 'Twere good yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,

I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day here. [she. King. No devil will fright thee then so much as Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. Long. Look, here's thy love my foot and her face see. (Showing his shoe.) Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,

Her feet were much too dainty for such tread! Dum. O vile! then as she goes, what upward lies


The street should see, as she walk'd over head. King. But what of this? Are we not all in love? Biron. O, nothing so sure; and thereby all for[now prove King. Then leave this chat; and, good Birón, Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there ;-some flattery for this evil.

Long. O, some authority how to proceed;
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.
Dum. Some salve for perjury.
O, 'tis more than need!—
Have at you then, affection's men at arms:
Consider, what you first did swear unto ;-
To fast,-to study, and to see no woman;-
Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young;
And abstinence engenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to study, lords,
In that each of you hath forsworn his book:
Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look?
For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of study's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive;
They are the ground, the books, the academes,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire,
Why, universal plodding prisons up

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The nimble spirits in the arteries;
As motion, and long-during action, tires
The sinewy vigour of the traveller.
Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes;
And study too, the causer of your vow:
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewise is.
Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes,
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
O, we have made a vow to study, lords;
And in that vow we have forsworn our books;
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation, have found out
Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes
Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practisers,
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil:
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd;
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails;
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste:
For valour is not love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?
Subtle as sphinx; as sweet, and musical,
As bright Apollo's late, strung with his hair;
And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs.
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears.
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world;
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent;
Then fools you were these women to forswear;
Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love;
Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men ;
Or for men's sake, the authors of these women;
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men;
Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves,
Or else we lose ourselves, to keep our oaths:
It is religion to be thus forsworn;

For charity itself fulfils the law;
And who can sever love from charity?

King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the

Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis'd, In conflict that you get the sun of them.

Long. Now to plain dealing; lay these glozes by: Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?

King. And win them too; therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents.

Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them thither;

Then, homeward, every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon

We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Fore-run fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
King, Away, away! no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.

Biron. Allons! allons!-Sow'd cockle reap'd no


And justice always whirls in equal measure: Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.-Another part of the same. Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Hol. Satis quod sufficit.

Nath. I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.

Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te: His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too perigrinate, as I may call it. Nath. A most singular and choice epithet. (Takes out his table-book.) Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical fantasms, such insociable and point-devise companions, such rackers of orthography, as to speak, dout, fine, when he should say, doubt; det, when he should pronounce, debt; d, e, b, t; not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour, vocatur, nebour; neigh, abbreviated, ne: This is abhominable, (which he would call abominable,) it insinuateth me of insanie; Ne intelligis domine? to make frantic, lunatic.

Nath. Laus deo, bone intelligo.

Hol. Bone?- -bone, for benè: Priscian a little scratch'd; 'twill serve.

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Hol. Quare Chirra, not sirrah?
Arm. Men of peace, well encounter'd.
Hol. Most military sir, salutation.

Moth. They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. (To Costard aside.)

Cost. O, they have lived long in the alms-basket of words! I marvel, thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.

Moth. Peace; the peal begins.

Arm. Monsieur, (to Hol.) are you not letter'd? Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-book:What is a, b, spelt backward with a horn on his head? Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

Moth. Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn:-You hear his learning.

Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant?

Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I.

Hol. I will repeat them, a, e, i,

Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it; o, u. Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit: snip, snap, quick and home; it rejoiceth my intellect: [wit-old. Moth. Offer'd by a child to an old man; which is Hol. What is the figure? what is the figure? Moth. Horns.

true wit.

[gig. Hol. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and will whip about your infamy circum circà; Â gig of a cuckold's horn!

Cos. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou half-penny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased, that thou wert but my bastard! what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at thy fingers' ends, as they say.

Hol. O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem. Arm. Arts-man, præambula; we will be singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain?

Hol. Or, mons, the hill.

Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
Hol. I do, sans question.

Arm. Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and affection, to congratulate the princess at her pavilion, in the posteriors of this day; which the rude multitude call, the afternoon.

Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon: the word is well cull'd, chose; sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure.

Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman; and my familiar, I do assure you, very good friend:For what is inward between us, let it pass:-I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy-I beseech thee, apparel thy head;-and among other importunate and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too;-but let that pass-for I must tell thee, it will please his grace (by the world) sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder; and with his royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement, with my mustachio: but, sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable; some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world: but let that pass. The very all of all is, but, sweet heart, do implore secrecy,-that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or fire-work. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.

Hol. Sir, you shall present before her the nine worthies.-Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistance,-the king's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman,-before the princess; I say, none so fit as to present the nine worthies.

Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?

Hol. Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabæus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the great; the page, Hercules.

Arm. Pardon, sir, error: he is not quantity enough for that worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.

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Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir.
Hol. Allons! we will employ thee.

Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will
play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them
dance the hay.

Hol. Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport, away.

SCENE II. Another part of the same. Before the
Princess's Pavilion.


Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady wall'd about with diamonds!
Look you, what I have from the loving king.
Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin. Nothing but this? yes, as much love in

As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all;
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.

Ros. That was the way to make his god-head wax;
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Ros. You'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd
your sister.

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;
And so she died: had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might have been a grandam ere she died:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this
light word?

Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. [out.
Ros. We need more light to find your meaning
Kath. You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuffTM;
Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument.

Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i' the dark.
Kath. So do not you; for you are a light wench.
Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore
[for me.
Kath. You weigh me not,-O, that's you care not
Ros. Great reason; for, Past cure is still past care.
Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it! and what is it?


I would, you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Birón:
The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!
Prin. Any thing like?

Ros. Much, in the letters; nothing in the praise.
Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy book.
Ros. 'Ware pencils! How? let me not die your

My red dominical, my golden letter:
O, that your face were not so full of O's!

Kath. A pox of that jest! and beshrew all shrows!
Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Dumain?
Kath. Madam, this glove."

Did he not send you twain?
Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover:
A huge translation of hypocrisy.
Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity.


Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa-
The letter is too long by balf a mile.


Prin. I think no less: Dost thou not wish in
The chain were longer, and the letter short? [part.
Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never
Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so.
Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Birón I'll torture ere I go.

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O, that I knew he were but in by the week!
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek;
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes;
And shape his service wholly to my behests;
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So portent-like would I o'ersway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,

As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school;
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.
Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such


As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note, As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; Since all the power thereof it doth apply, To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Enter BOYET.

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Boyet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter? Where's
her grace?
Prin. Thy news, Boyet?
Prepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace: Love doth approach disguis'd,
Armed in arguments; you'll be surpris'd:
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
Prin. Saint Dennis to Saint Cupid! What are
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear;
That, by and by, disguis'd they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage:
Action, and accent, did they teach him there;
Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear:
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Presence majestical would put him out;
For, quoth the king, an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.
The boy reply'd, An angel is not evil;
I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.
With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the

Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
One rubb'd his elbow, thus; and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was never spoke before:
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd, Via! we will do't, come what will come:
The third be caper'd, and cried, All goes well:
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To check their folly, passion's solemn tears.
Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?
Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparel'd

Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess,
Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance:
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favours several, which they did bestow.
Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be

For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd; And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despight of suit, to see a lady's face.

Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear;
And then the king will court thee for his dear;
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine;
So shall Birón take me for Rosaline.-

And change you favours too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.
Ros. Come on then; wear the favours most in

Kath. But, in this changing, what is your intent?
Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs :
They do it but in mocking merriment ;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal,
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages display'd, to talk, and greet.

Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't? Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot: Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace; But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart,

And quite divorce his memory from his part.
Prin. Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt,
The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out.
There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game;
And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.
(Trumpets sound within.)
Boyet. The trumpet sounds; be mask'd, the
maskers come. (The Ladies mask.)

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Boyet. What would you with the princess? Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. What would they, say they?

Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. [gone. Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, To tread a measure with her on this grass. Boyet. They say that they have measur'd many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on this grass.
Ros. 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


And many miles; the princess bids you tell,
How many inches do fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

Boyet. She hears herself. Ros. How many weary steps, Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, Are number'd in the travel of one mile?


Biron. We number nothing that we spend for Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clonded too. King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine

(Those clouds remov'd,) upon our wat'ry eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure, do but vouchsafe one change: Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then: nay, you must do it (Music plays.) Not yet; no dance :-thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estrang'd?


Ros. You took the moon at full; but now she's chang'd.

King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice: take hands ;-we will not dance. King. Why take we hands then? Ros. Only to part friends :Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure; be not


Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your company? Ros. Your absence only. King. That can never be. Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you! King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Ros. In private then. King.

I am best pleas'd with that. (They converse apart.) Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. [three. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice,) Metheglin, wort, and malmsey;-Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets.

Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu! Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Biron. One word in secret. Prin.

Biron. Thou griev'st my gall.



Let it not be sweet.

Gall! bitter.

Kath. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,

Fair lady,

Therefore meet. (They converse apart.) Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a Mar. Name it. [word? Dum. Mar. Say you so? Fair lord,Take that for your fair lady. Dum. Please it you, As much in private, and I'll bid adieu." (They converse apart.) Kath. What, was your visor made without a

tongue? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

And would afford my speechless visor half. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ;-Is not veal a calf?

Long. A calf, fair lady? Kath.

No, a fair lord calf.

Long. Let's part the word.
No, I'll not be your half:
Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.
Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these
sharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry.
(They converse apart.)
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as
As is the razor's edge invisible, [keen
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
Above the sense of sense: so sensible
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings,
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
[break off.
Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off,
Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple

[Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, Music, and Attendants.
Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.-
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths
puff'd out.
[fat, fat.
Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross;
Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to night?
Or ever, but in visors, show their faces?
This pert Birón was out of countenance quite.
Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases!
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.
Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you what he call'd me?

Qualm, perhaps.


Kath. Yes, in good faith.
Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute.

But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
Prin. And quick Birón hath plighted faith to me.
Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.
Prin. Will they return?

Boyet. They will, they will, God knows And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows; Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.

Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity? What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo?

Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; And wonder, what they were; and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us.

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