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Which party-coated presence of loose love
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
than jest. Long. So did our looks. Rosa.
We did not quote them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your
A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in: No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore, this, – If for my love (as there is no such cause) You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
: Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, , The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to
• me? Rosa. You must be purged too, your sins are
rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if
you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick. · Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and ho
nesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Dum. O, shall I
say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a
Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Mar. At the twelvemonth's end,
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me,
Rosa. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
wit: To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, (Without the which I am not to be won,) You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, Will hear
idle scorns, continue then, And I will have you, and that fault withal; But, if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation, Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will
befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.
[To the King King. No, madam: we will bring you on your
way. . Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old
play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy.
King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a
day, And then 'twill end. Biron.
That's too long for a play.
Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show.
King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
and others. This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain’d by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
Do paint the meadows with delight,