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be

Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, you rogue,
Ros. What would these strangers ? know their minds,

Boyet.
If they do speak our language, 'tis our Will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know, what they would.

Bojet. What would you with the Princess ?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle visitation.
Rol. What would they, say they?
Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle visitation.
Rof. Why, That they have ; and bid them so be

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

King. Say to her, we have measur'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 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 doth fill up one mile ?
Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet. She hears her self.

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 shew the sunshine of your face,
That we (like favages) may worship it.

Rof. 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 watery eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter ; Thou now request't but moon-fhine in the water.

King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one

change ; Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not strange.

Ros. Play, musick, 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

estrang'd'? Rof. 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, vouch safe some motion to it.

Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.
King. But your legs should do it.
Ref. Since you are strangers, and come here by

chance, We'll not be nice; take hands; we will not dance.

King. Why take you hands then!

Roj. Only to part friends ;
Curt'fie, sweet hearts, and so the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Rof. We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize

your

felves then ; what buys your com. Res. Your absence only.. King.

That can never be.
Rof. Then cannot we be bought; and so, adieu ;
Twiće to your visor, and half once to you.

King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Ros. In private then.
King. I am best pleas'd with That.
Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with

thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar, there is three. Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow so

nice, Methegline, 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 fecret.

pany?

Prin. Let it not be sweet.
Biron. Thou griev'it my gall.
Prin. Gall? bitter.
Biron. Therefore meet.
Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word ?
Mar. Name it.
Dum. Fair lady,

Mar. Say you so ? 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 visor made without a tongue ?
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Cath. O, for your reason ! quickly, Sir; I long,

Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless vizor half.
Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutch man; is not veal a

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 your self in these sharp

mocks! Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. Cath. Then die a calf, before

your

horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Cath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry. 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 sense of senfe, 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 and Lords. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the Breed of wits so wondred at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths

puft 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 to night?

Or ever, but in vizors, shew their faces ? This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.

Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword : No, point, quoth I; my servant ftrait 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, sickness as thou art !

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-cops. But will you hear the King is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith w me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mer. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark m 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 digeit this harsh indigvity.

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 under,

stood. Boyet. Fair ladies, maskt, are roses in their bud;

Vol. II.

L

Or

Or angel-veiling clouds : are roses blown,
Dismaskt, their damask sweet Commixture shewn.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo ?

Ref. 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,
Disguis’d, like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow Shows, and Prologue vildly pend,
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 o'er the land.

[Exeunt.

Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain,

in their own habits; Boyet, meeting them.

F

KIN G.
AIR Sir, God save you! Where's the Princess ?

Boyet. Goae to her Tent.
Please it your Majesty, command me any service

to her
King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
Boyet. I will; and so will the, 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 wassals, meetings, markets, fairs : And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show.