As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, Above the sense of sense; so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings

260

Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.

Bir. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!

King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

[Exeunt [King, Lords, and Blackamoors]. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. Are these the breed of wits so wond'red at? 266 Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.

Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to

night?

270

325

And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; an
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.
'A can carve too, and lisp; why, this is he
That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy ;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and in ushering
Mend him who can. The ladies call him sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whale's bone;
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongu'd Boyet.
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my
heart,

331

That hid the worse and show'd the better face. King. [Aside.] We were descried; they'll mock us now downright.

Dum. Let us confess and turn it to a jest. 390 Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?

Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale?

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Bir. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.

Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I; lady, dart thy skill at me,

395

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a

Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue,
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's
song!

Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Figures pedantical; these summer-flies

405

410

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forswear them, and I here protest,
By this white glove, how white the hand,
God knows!-

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet yeas and honest kersey noes;
And, to begin, wench, so God help me,
la!-

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 415
Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.

Bir. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage. Bear with me, I am sick;

Some fair excuse.

Prin.

The fairest is confession.

Were not you here but even now disguis'd? King. Madam, I was.

Prin.

And were you well advis'd?

King. I was, fair madam. Prin.

436

When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King. That more than all the world I did respect her.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.
Prin.

Peace, peace! forbear. Your oath once broke, you force not to for

Prin. I will; and therefore keep it. Rosaline,

What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me

dear

445

As precious eyesight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Prin. God give thee joy of him! The noble
lord

Most honourably doth uphold his word.
King. What mean you, madam? By my life,
my troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.

450

When great things labouring perish in their birth.

Bir. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter Braggart [ARMADO].

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.

[Converses apart with the King, and
delivers him a paper.]

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Bir. Why ask you?

Prin. 'A speaks not like a man of God's making.

Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey [599 monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, too too vain but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit. 635

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus;

840

And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

These four will change habits, and present the other five.

Bir. There is five in the first show. King. You are deceived; 't is not so. Bir. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge- [sis priest, the fool, and the boy :

Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world again

Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

King. The ship is under sail, and here she