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Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
I should have fear'd her, had she been a devil.
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us? Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess,
Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd:
For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd;
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear;
And then the king will court thee for his dear; Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine;
So shall Birón take me for Rosaline.
And change you favours too; so shall your 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.
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'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
Boyet. The trumpet sounds; be mask'd, the
[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.
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
Biron. Once to behold, rogue.
Moth. Once to behold with 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
Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you
Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
Boyet. What would you with the princess?
Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be
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,
Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
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.
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 matter; 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. Not yet;-no dance:—thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estrang'd?
Ros. You took the moon at full; but now she's
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
we will not dance.
We'll not be nice: take hands;
Ros. Your absence only.
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
Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey;-Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets.
Seventh sweet, adieu !
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.
+ Falsify dice, lye.