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Moth. A boly parcel of the faireft dames, 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, heav'nly Spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold.

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes With your fun-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.

Rof. 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 ?
Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Rof. What would they, say they ?
Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Rof. Why, that they have ; and bid them so be

gone. 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 the grass.

Boyet. They say, they have measur'd many a mile, To tread a measure with you on the grass.

Rof. 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, How many inches doth fill up one mile? Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.




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Boyet. She hcars herself.

Ros. 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.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.

Rof. 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 watery eyne.

Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter ; Thou now requeft'st but moonshine in the water.

King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one change; Thou bid'ft me beg; this begging is not strange.

Ros. Play, musick, then ; nay, you must do it soon.
Not yet? no dance: thus change I like the moon.

King. Will you not dance ? how come you thus eftrang’d?
Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's chang’d.

King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The musick plays; vouchsafe fome motion to it.

Roj. Our ears vouchfafe it.
King. But your legs should do it.

Rof. Since you are ftrangers, and come here by chance,
We'll not be nice: take hands; we will not dance.

King. Why take you hands then?

Rof: Only to part friends.
Court'sy, sweet hearts; and fo the measure ends.

King. More measure of this meafure; be not nice.
Ros. We can afford no more at fuch a price.
King. Prize yourselves then ; what buys your company?
Ros. Your absence only.
King. That can never be.


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Rof. 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.
Rof. In private then.
King. I am best pleas'd with that.
Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

Biron. Nay, then, two treys; and 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.

Biron. One word in secret.
Prin. Let it not be sweet.
Biron. Thou griev'st my gall

Prin. Gall's bitter.
Biron. Therefore meet.
Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
Mar. Name it.
Dum. Fair lady.

Mar. Say you so ? fair lord :
Take that for

Dum. Please it you;
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.

Cath. What, was your visor made without a tongue ? ?
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Cată. O, for your reason! quickly, fir; I long.

Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless visor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman; is not veal a calf?
Long. A calf, fair lady?
Cath. No, a fair lord calf.
Long. Let's part the word.
Cath. No, I'll not be


Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox,
Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks !
Vol. II.



fair lady.



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horns do grow.

Will you give horns, chaste lady ? do not so.
Cath. Then die a calf before

Long. One word in private with you ere I die.
Cath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

As is the razor's edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

Above the sense of sense : fo sensible
Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings,
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with


fcoff. King. Farewell, mad wenches, you have fimple wits.

[ Exeunt King and Lords.


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Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.
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.

Prin. O, poverty in wit, kingly poor fout !
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night?

Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ?
This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.

Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases. The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword : No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

Cath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you what he call’d me?

Prin. Qualm, perhaps.
Cath. Yes, in good faith.
Prin. Go, sickness as thou art !
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.


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But will you hear the king is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumain is mine as sure as bark on tree.

Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear :
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.

Prin. Will they return ?

Boyet. They will, they will, god knows;
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows :
Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in the 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,
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 pen’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 o'er the land. [Exeunt.

Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their own

habits : Boyet meeting them.
King. Fair sir, god save you ! where's the princess ?
· Vailing here is to be distinguish'd from veiling, and carries the same fenfe as in the phrase vailing
a bonnet, that is, putting off, lowering, finking down.


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