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Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames, That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views.

[The ladies turn their backs to him. Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views. Out

Biron. True; out, indeed.

Moth. Out of your favours, heav'nly fpirits, vouchsafe Not to behold.

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your fun-beamed eyes. With your fun-beamed eyes

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet; You were beft call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me

out.

Biron. Is this your perfectnefs? be gone, you rogue.
Rof. What would thefe ftrangers? know their minds,
Boyet.

If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
That fome plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the Princefs?
Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rof. What would they, fay they?

Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation. Ref. Why, that they have; and bid them fo be gone. Boyet. She fays, you have it; and you may be gone. King. Say to her, we have meafur'd many miles, To tread a measure with her on the grafs.

Boyet. They fay, that they have meafur'd many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on this grafs.
Rof. It is not fo. Afk them how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have meatur'd many,

The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have meafur'd miles, And many miles; the Princefs bids you tell, How many inches doth fill up one mile?

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

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Boyet. She hears herself.

Rof. 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 you Our duty is fo rich, so infinite,

That we may do it ftill without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhew the funfhine of your face,
That we (like favages) may worship it.

Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. King. Bleffed are clouds, to do as fuch clouds do. Vouchfafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to fhine (Thofe clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.

Ref. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then in our measure vouchfafe but one change; Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not ftrange. Rof. Play, mufic, then; nay, you must do it foon. Not yet; no dance: thus change I, like the moon.. King. Will you not dance? how come you thus e

ftrange'd?

Rof. You took the moon at full, but now she's change'd.

King. Yet ftill fhe is the moon, and I the man. The mufic plays, vouchfafe fome motion to it. Ref. Our ears vouchsafe it.

King. But your legs fhould do it.

Rof. Since you are ftrangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice; take hands;-we will not dance. King. Why take you hands then!

Rof. Only to part friends;

Curt fie, fweet hearts, and fo the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.

King. Prize yourselves then; what buys your company?

Rof. Your abfence only.

King. That can never be.

Rof. 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.

Ref.

Ref. In private then.

King. I am beft pleas'd with that.

Biron. White-handed mistress, one fweet word with
thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and fugar; there is three.
Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow fo

nice,

Methegline, wort, and malmfey;-well run, dice: There's half a dozen fweets.

Prin. Seventh fweet, adieu

u;

Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.

Biron. One word in fecret.

Prin. Let it not be fweet.
Biron. Thou griev'ft my gall.

Prin. Gall? bitter

Biron. Therefore meet.

Dum. Will you vouchfafe with me to change a word? Mar. Name it.

Dum. Fair Lady,

Mar, Say you fo? fair Lord:

Take that for your fair Lady..
Dum. Please it you;

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.

Cath. What, was your vifor made without a tongue ?? Long. I know the reafon, Lady, why you afk. Gath O, for your reafon! quickly, Sir, I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mafk, And would afford my fpeechlefs visor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman; is not veal a s calf?

Long. A calf, fair Lady?

Cath. No, a fair Lord calf.

Long. Let's part the word.

Cath. No, I'll not be

your half;

Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

Long. Look, how you butt yourself in thefe fharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chafte Lady? do not fo.
Cath. Then die a caff, before your horns do grow.
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Cath. Bleat foftly then, the butcher hears you cry.

R 3

Boyet

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge, invincible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen :

Above the fenfe of fenfible, fo fenfible

Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, fwifter things.

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

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure fcoff.— King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have fimple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords.

SCENE VI.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Mufcovites. Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at? Bayet. Tapers they are with your sweet breaths puft

out.

Rof. Well-liking wits they have; grofs, grofs; fat

fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout!

Will they not (think you) hang themfelves to-night?
Cr ever, but in vizors, fhew their faces ?
This pert

Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cafes.
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Prin. Biron did fwear him elf out of all fuit. Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his fword: No, point, quoth I; my fervant ftraight was mute. Cath. Lord Longaville faid I came o'er his heart, And trow you what he call'd me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps.

Gath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, ficknefs as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps. But will you hear? the King is my love fworn. Prin And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. Cath. And Longaville was for my fervice born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree. Boyet. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear: Immediately they will again be here

In

In their own fhapes; for it can never be
They will digeft this harfh 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 fweet rofes in this fummer-air.

Prin. How, blow? how, blow? speak to be underftood.

Boyet. "Fair ladies mafk'd, are rofes in the bud, "Or angels veil'd in clouds: are rofes blown, "Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture fhown." Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do If they return in their own fhapes to woo?

Rof. Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them ftill, as well known, as disguis'd; Let us complain to them what fools were here, Difguis'd, like Mufcovites, in fhapeless* gear; And wonder what they were, and to what end Their fhallow fhows, and prologue vildly penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be prefented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw, the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er the land. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Before the Princess's pavilion. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their own habits; Boyet meeting them.

King. Fair Sir, God fave you! Where's the Princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your Majefty, command me any fervice to her? King. That the vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and fo will fhe, I know, my Lord.

[Exit. Biron. This fellow picks up wit, as pidgeons peas; And utters it again, when Jove doth please: He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares At wakes and waffals, meetings, markets, fairs: And we that fell by grofs, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

* Some read uncouth for fhapeless,

This

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