Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour. Enter MERCade. Mer. God save you, madam ! Prin. Welcome, Mercade; But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring. Is heavy in my tongue. Prin. Dead, for my life. The king your father Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. King. How fares your majesty? [Exeunt Worthies, Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : King. The extreme parts of time extremely form All causes to the purpose of his speed; And often, at his very loose, decides That which long process could not arbitrate : The holy suit which fain it would convince; From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the king. For your fair sakes have we neglected time, All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain ; Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, you: Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Your favours, the embassadors of love; And, in our maiden council, rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast, and as lining to the time : But more devout than this, in our respects, Have we not been; and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment. Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote the ♫ so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Prin. If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood; But that it bear this trial, and last love; Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, 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? Ros. 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, Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. Long. What says Maria? Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, your wit : To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing 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 |