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Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear ;
loves Woo contrary, deceiv'd 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 speaker'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. Enter the King, Biron, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN,
in Russian habits, and masked ; Moth, Musicians and Attendants. Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth! Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames,
['The ladies turn their backs to him, That ever turn'd their backs-to mortal views!
Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
views! OutBoyet. True; out, indeed. Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouch
safe Not to behold
Biron. Once to behold, rogue.
your sun-beamed eyes, - with your sun-beamed
eyes Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet ; You were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes. Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings
me out. Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you
rogue. Ros. What would these strangers ? know their
Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone. King. Say to her, we have measurd
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
Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
How many weary steps,
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 sun-shine 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 wat’ry eyne.
Ros. O vain petitioner ! beg a greater måtter ; 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
(Musick plays. no dance:- thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus
Ros. You took the moon at full; but now she's
chang'a. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The musick plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.
Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.
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 ?
Only to part friends:Court’sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your
company ? Ros. Your absence only. King.
That can never be. Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so adieu ; Twice to your visor, and half once to you!
King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
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 4, I'll play no more with you.
Falsify dice, lye.