Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest 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 fpirits, vouchsafe Not to behold. Biron. Once to behold, rogue. Moth. Once to behold with your fun-beamed eyes— With your fun-beamed eyes— Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet ; You were beft 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 fpeak our language, 'tis our will That fome plain man recount their purposes. Know what they would. Boyet. What would you with the princess? Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle vifitation. Rof. Why, that they have; and bid them fo be gone. 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 fo: ask them how many inches Is in one mile: if they have meafur'd many, The measure then of one is eafily told. And Boyet. If, to come hither, you have meafur'd miles, many miles; the princefs bids How many inches doth fill up one mile? you tell, Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. Boyet. She hears herself. Rof. How many weary steps Of many weary miles you have o'ergone Biron. We number nothing that we spend for That we may do it ftill without accompt. your face, That we, like favages, may worship it. you; Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. Rof. Play, mufick, then; nay, you must do it foon. King. Will you not dance? how come you thus eftrang'd? The mufick plays; vouchfafe fome motion to it. King. But your legs fhould 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'fy, fweet hearts; and fo the meafure ends. King. More meafure of this meafure; be not nice. Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price. King. Prize yourselves then; what buys your company? King. That can never be. Rof. Rof. Then cannot we be bought; and so, adieu; King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. King. I am beft pleas'd with that. Biron. White-handed mistress, one fweet word with thee. Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu; Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Biron. One word in fecret. Prin. Let it not be sweet. Biron. Thou griev'ft my gall. Prin. Gall's bitter. Biron. Therefore meet. Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? Dum. Fair lady. Mar. Say you fo? fair lord: Take that for fair lady. your Dum. Please it you; As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. Cath. What, was your visor made without a tongue? And would afford my speechlefs vifor half. Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman; is not veal a calf? Cath. No, a fair lord calf. Long. Let's part the word. Cath. No, I'll not be your half; Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks ! VOL. II. T Will Will you give horns, chafte lady? do not fo. Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the fenfe of fenfe: fo fenfible Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings, King. Farewell, mad wenches, you have fimple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords. SCENE VI. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Mufcovites. Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at? Boyet Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. Rof. Well-liking wits they have, gross, gross, fat, fat. Prin. O, poverty in wit, kingly poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night ? Cath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, fickness as thou art! Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps. But But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. In their own fhapes; for it can never be, Boyet. They will, they will, god knows; And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows : Prin. How blow? how blow? fpeak to be understood. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do, Rof. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Should be prefented 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. SCENE VII. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their own habits: Boyet meeting them. King. Fair fir, god fave you! where's the princess? Vailing here is to be diftinguish'd from veiling, and carries the fame sense as in the phrafe vailing a bonnet, that is, putting off, lowering, finking down. T 2 Boyet. |