Arm. For the rest of the worthies?—
Hol. I will play three myself.
Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!
Arm. Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol. We attend.

Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antick. I beseech you, follow.

Hol. Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while.

Dall. 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. [Exeunt.

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.
Ros. We need more light to find your meaning

out.

Kath. You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuff; 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 light.

Kath. You weigh me not,-O, that's you care not for me.

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?

Ros. 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 debtor,

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.

Prin. 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 Longaville;

The letter is too long by half a mile.

Prin. I think no less: Dost thou not wish in heart,

The chain were longer, and the letter short? Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might ne

ver part.

Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so. Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mock

ing so.

That same Birón I'll torture ere I go.
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

excess,

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.

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

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 they,

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
shoulder;

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 he 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 apparell'd
thus,-

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
task'd:

For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite 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.

Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. Ros. Come on then; wear the favours most in sight.

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 speak

er'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'er

thrown ;

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.

Boyet. What would you with the princess? Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visita

tion.

Ros. What would they, say they?
Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so
be gone.

Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.

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 miles,

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 you;

Our duty is so rich, so infinite,

That we may do it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded 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 watʼry 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, musick, then: nay, you must do it soon. Musick 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 musick 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. In private then.

King. I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

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. Let it not be sweet.
Biron. Thou griev'st my gall.
Prin. Gall! bitter.

Biron. Therefore meet.

mask,

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.
Kath. 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

Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you
cry.
[They converse apart.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are
as keen

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,

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

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

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

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

[Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, Musick, 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.

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 tonight?

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?
Prin. Qualm, perhaps.
Kath. Yes, in good faith.
Prin. Go, sickness as thou art!

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.

But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Rirón 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.

11

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.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at
hand.

Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their habits. proper King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess?

Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your ma◄ jesty,

Command me any service to her thither? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons

peas;

And utters it again, when God doth please:
He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs;
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;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he
That kiss'd away his hand 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 whales bone:
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my
heart,

That put Armado's page out of his part!

Enter the Princess, usher'd by BOYET; ROSA LINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.

Biron. See where it comes !-Behaviour, what wert thou,

Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?

King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you

may.

Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave.

King. We came to visit you; and purpose now To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:

Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ;

The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke;

For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure

As the unsullied lily, I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant

game;

A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam? Russians?
Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.
Ros. Madam, speak true:-It is not so, my
lord;

My lady, (to the manner of the days,)
In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted here with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have
drink.

Biron. This jest is dry to me.-Fair, gentle sweet,

Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet

With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: Your capacity
Is of that nature, that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but

poor.

Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye,

Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,

It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. Ros. All the fool mine?

VOL. I.

That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downright.

Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 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. Biron. 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;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;

Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,

Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend;

Norwoo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical: these summer-flies

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.
Ros. Sans SANS, I pray you.
Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage:-Bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see ;-
Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens