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strangling a snake; and I will have an apology | But, Rosaline, you have a favour too :
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?
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 On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay. Hol. Most dull, honest Dull. To our sport, away! Exeunt.
I would you knew:
Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
Ros. 'Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your
My red dominical, my golden letter:
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair
Kath. Madam, this glove.
Did he not send you twain?
Mar. This, and these pearls to me sent Longa-
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 never part.
Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go.
Prin. None are so surely caught, when they
As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such
As gravity's revolt to wantonness.
Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note
Prin. Here comes Bovet, and mirth is in his face. Boyet. O! I am stabb'd with laughter. Where's her grace?
Prin. Thy news, Boyet?
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.
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;
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.
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.
For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd,
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!
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.
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.
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
Ros. In private then.
I am best pleas'd with that. They converse apart. Berowne. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
Berowne. 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. Berowne. One word in secret. Prin. Let it not be sweet. Berowne. Thou griev'st my gall. Prin. Gall! bitter.
Mar. Name it.
Therefore meet. They converse apart. Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change
Take that for your fair lady.
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Say you so? Fair lord,
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. And Longaville was for my service born.
Therefore change favours; and when they repair,
Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their
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
King. O you have liv'd in desolation here,
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear :
Ay, in truth, my lord;
Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
Berowne. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons
And utters it again when God doth please.
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my That hid the worse and show'd the better face. heart, King. We are descried: they mock us now downright.
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we
With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye,
Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous
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;
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
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
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:
King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
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?
Berowne. Neither of either; I remit both twain.
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Welcome, pure wit! thou part'st a fair fray.
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.