strangling a snake; and I will have an apology | But, Rosaline, you have a favour too : for that purpose. Who sent it? and what is it? Ros. Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry Well done, Hercules! now thou crushest the snake!' that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it. Arm. For the rest of the Worthies? Hol. We attend. 150 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. Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play 160 On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay. Hol. Most dull, honest Dull. To our sport, away! SCENE II.-The Same. Before the PRINCESS'S Pavilion. Exeunt. Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA. Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in: A lady wall'd about with diamonds! Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that? Prin. Nothing but this! yes; as much love in rime As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, 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: a' 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 ha' 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? 30 I would you knew: Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise. My red dominical, my golden letter: Prin. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all 60 That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go. Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd, 70 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. Arm, wenches, arm! Against your peace: guis'd, 80 Prepare, madam, prepare! encounters mounted are Love doth approach dis 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 Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say. 91 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 replied, 'An angel is not evil; 101 I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.' With that all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the shoulder, 110 Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. 120 Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess. For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd, 140 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. 150 Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth! 160 The Ladies turn their backs to him. That ever turn'd their-backs-to mortal views! Berowne. Their eyes,'. villain, 'their eyes.' Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! Out Boyet. True; 'out' indeed. Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold Berowne. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! Exit MOTH. 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. Boyet. What would you with the princess? Berowne. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. 180 Ros. What would they, say they? 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. 190 Boyet. If, to come hither, you have measur'd miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell Berowne. Tell her we measure them by weary Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to And would afford my speechless visor half. shine, Those clouds remov'd, upon our watery eyne. Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure vouchsafe but one change. soon. Thou bidd'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then! nay, you must do it Music plays. 211 Not yet! no dance! thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's changed. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music 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. Only to part friends. 220 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. That can never be. Kath. Veal,' quoth the Dutchman. Is not 'veal' a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady! No, a fair lord calf. Long. Let's part the word. No, I'll not be your half: Take all, and wean it: it may prove an ox. 250 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 grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly then; the butcher hears They converse apart. you cry. Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. Ros. Not one word more, my maids: break off, break off. Berowne. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! King. Farewell, mad wenches : you have simple wits. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Exeunt KING, Lords, Music and Attendants. 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. 270 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 Berowne was out of countenance quite. Ros. O they were all in lamentable cases. The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Berowne did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumaine 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; Prin. Go, sickness as thou art! 280 Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statutecaps. But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. Prin. And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me. Therefore change favours; and when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. 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. 301 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, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA. Re-enter the KING, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? 310 Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty, 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. And utters it again when God doth please. That put Armado's page out of his part! Nor God, nor I, delights in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke: The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. A world of torments though I should endure, 351 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. 361 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 were 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. 370 I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Berowne. 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, eye, Berowne. I am a fool, and full of poverty. 380 Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. Berowne. O! I am yours, and all that I possess. Ros. All the fool mine? Berowne. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it that you wore? Berowne. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case That hid the worse and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they 'Il mock us now downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 390 | What did the Russian whisper in your ear? Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your Ros. Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; 430 Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; Nor woo in rime, like a blind harper's song, Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies 410 Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd to us. 420 And were you well advis'd? King. I was, fair madam. When you then were here, Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will King. Upon mine honour, no. Peace! peace! forbear: 441 King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath. 450 Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear. What, will you have me, or your pearl again? 460 Berowne. Neither of either; I remit both twain. Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? 480 Boyet. Enter COSTARD. Welcome, pure wit! thou part'st a fair fray. No, sir; but it is vara fine, For every one pursents three. |