SCENE III.
Enter Princess, and Ladies.
Weet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A lady wall'd about with diamonds!
SWIF
Look you, what I have from the loving king.
Rof. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin. Nothing but this? yes, as much love in rhyme,
As would be cram'd up in a fheet of paper,
Writ on both fides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to feal on Cupid's name.
Rof. That was the way to make his godhead wax,
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
Cath. Ay, and a fhrewd unhappy gallows too.
Rof. You'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd your
Cath. He made her melancholy, fad, and heavy,
And fo fhe died; had fhe been light like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring fpirit,
She might have been a grandam ere she died.
And fo may you; for a light heart lives long.
Rof. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
Cath. A light condition, in a beauty dark.
Rof. We need more light to find your meaning out.
Cath. You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff:
Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument.
Rof. Look, what you do, you do it still i'th' dark.
Cath. So do not you; for you are a light wench.
Rof. Indeed, I weigh not you, and therefore light.
Cath. You weigh me not; o, that's, you care not for me.
Rof. Great reafon; for, paft cure is ftill paft.care.
Prin. Well bandied both; a fet of wit well play'd.
But, Rofaline, you have a favour too;
Who fent it? and what is it?
Rof. I would, you knew.
And if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron :
The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thoufand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter.
Prin. Any thing like?
Rof. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclufion.
Cath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
a
Ros. Ware pencils, * ho! let me not die your debter,
My red dominical, my golden letter!
O, that
your face were not fo full of O's!
Cath. Pox of that jeft! and I befhrew all shrews.
Prin. But, Catharine, what was fent you from Dumain?
Cath. Madam, this glove.
Prin. Did he not fend you twain?
Cath. Yes, madam, that he did; and fent moreover, Some thousand verfes of a faithful lover:
A huge translation of hypocrify,
Vilely compil'd, profound fimplicity.
Mar. This, and these pearls, to me fent Longaville : The letter is too long by half a mile.
Prin. I think no lefs; doft thou not wish in heart The chain were longer, and the letter short?
Mar. Ay, or I would thefe hands might never part!
Prin. We are wife girls, to mock our lovers fo.
Rof. They are worfe fools to purchase mocking so.
That fame Biron I'll torture ere I go.
O, that I knew he were but in by th' week!
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seck,
And wait the feafon, and obferve the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootlefs rhymes,
Meaning to check Catharine for her painting, pencil being a painting-brush.
S 2
And shape his service all to my behests,
And make him proud to make me proud with jefts:
So portent-like would I o'erfway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
Prin. None are fo, furely caught, when they are catch'd
As wit turn'd fool; folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school,
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.
Rof. The blood of youth burns not in fuch excefs,
As gravity's revolt to wantonnefs.
Mar. Folly in fools, bears, not fo ftrong a note,
As fool'ry in the wife, when wit doth dote:
Since all the power, thereof it doth apply,
To prove by wit worth in fimplicity.
Enter Boyet.
Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Boyet. O, I am ftab'd with laughter! where's her grace?
Prin. Thy news, Boyet?
Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace; love doth approach difguis'd,
Armed in arguments; you'll be furpriz d.
Muster your wits, ftand in your own defence,
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
Prin. Saint Dennis, to faint Cupid! what are they
That charge their breath against us? fay, scout, fay.
Boyet. Under the cool fhade of a fycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd reft,
Toward that shade I might behold address'd
* Portents have been always look'd upon not only as the tokens and fignals, but the inftruments also, of destiny.
See a note in Meaf. for Meaf. Act. 3. Sc. 1.
The
The king and his companions; warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And over-heard, what you fhall over-hear:
That, by and by, difguis'd they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavifh page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embaffage.
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,
Prefence majestical would put him out:
For, quoth the king, an angel fhalt thou fee;
Yet fear not thou, but fpeak audaciously.
The boy reply'd, an angel is not evil;
I fhould have fear'd her, had the been a devil.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the fhoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
One rubb'd his elbow thus; and fleer'd, and fwore,
A better speech was never spoke before.
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd, via! we will do't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd, and cry'd, all goes well:
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With fuch a zealous laughter, fo profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To check their folly with paffion's folemn tears.
Prin. But what, but what, come they to vifit us?
Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Mufcovites, or Ruffians, as I guess.
Their purpofe is to parley, court, and dance:
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his feveral mistress; which they'll know
By favours feveral, which they did beftow.
Prin. And will they fo? the gallants shall be task'd; For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd:
And not a man of them fhall have the grace,
Despite of fuit, to fee a lady's face.
Hold, Rofaline; this favour thou fhalt wear,
And then the king will court thee for his dear :
Hold, take thou this, my fweet, and give me thine;
So fhall Biron take me for Rofaline.
And change your favours too, so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.
Rof. Come on then; wear the favours moft in fight.
Cath. 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 counfels they unbosom shall
To loves miftook; and fo be mock'd withal,
Upon the next occafion that we meet
With visages difplay'd to talk and greet.
Rof. But fhall we dance, if they defire us to't?
Prin. No; to the death we will not move a foot;
Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace:
But, while 'tis fpoke, 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 reft will ne'er come in, if he be out.
There's no fuch sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown ;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own;
So fhall we stay, mocking intended game,
And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.
[Sound.
Boyet. The trumpet founds; be mask'd, the mafkers come.
SCENE V.
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, disguis'd like Muscovites. Moth with mufick, as for a masquerade.
Moth. All hail the richest beauties on the earth!
Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata.
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