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 spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold. Biron. Once to behold, rogue. Moth. Once to behold with your fun-beamed eyesWith 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. If they do fpeak our language, 'tis our will Boyet. What would you with the Princefs? 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 grass. Boyet. They fay, that they have measur'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 measur'd many, Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles; the Princess bids you How many inches doth fill up one mile? tell, Biron, Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. 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, fo infinite, That we may do it ftill without accompt. Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. King. Bleffed are clouds, to do as fuch clouds do. Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to fhine (Thofe clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne. Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now request'ft but moonfhine in the water. King. Then in our measure vouchfafe but one change; Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not strange. Rof. Play, mufic, 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 ftrange'd? e Rof. You took the moon at full, but now fhe's change'd. King. Yet ftill fhe is the moon, and I the man. The mufic plays, vouchsafe fome motion to it. Ref. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs fhould do it. 1 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. Rof. Your abfence only. King. That can never be. Rof. Then cannot we be bought: and fo adieu; Twice to your vifor, and half once to you. King, If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Ref. Rof. In private then. King, I am beft pleas'd with that. Biron. White-handed miftrefs, one fweet word with thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; 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; Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Prin. Let it not be sweet. Prin. Gall? bitter Biron. Therefore meet. Dum. Will you youchsafe 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. Cath O, for your reafon! quickly, Sir, I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless vifor half. Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman; is not veal a calf? Long. A calf, fair Lady? Cath. No, a fair Lord calf. Long. Let's part the word. Gath. 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, chafte Lady? do not fo. Boyet Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen Above the fenfe of fenfible, fo fenfible Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, fwifter things. Rof. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure fcoffKing. 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? Boyet. 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 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 cafes. The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Biron did fwear himself out of all fuit. Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his fword: No, point, quoth I; my fervant straight was mute. Cath. Lord Longaville faid I came o'er his heart, And trow you what he call'd me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Cath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, fickness 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 service 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 their own fhapes; for it can never be 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? fpeak to be underftood. Boyet. "Fair ladies mafk'd, are rofes in the bud, "Or angels veil'd in clouds: are roses blown, "Difmaík'd, their damask sweet commixture shown." Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do If they return in their own shapes to woo? Rof. Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them ftill, as well known, as difguis'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 fo ridiculous, Should be presented 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 Majesty, command me any service to her? King. That the vouchfafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and fo will fhe, I know, my Lord. [Exit. At wakes and waffals, meetings, markets, fairs: * Some read uncouth for fhapeless. This |