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 me
out.

Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue.
Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds,
Boyet.

If they do speak our language, 't is 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.
Ros. What would they, say they?

Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. 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 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,

How many inches do fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet. She hears 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.

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 removed) upon our watery 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.

King. Will you not dance? How come you thus
estranged?

Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's changed.
King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The music plays: vouchsafe some motion to it.
Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.
King.

But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,

We'll not be nice. Take hands :-we will not dance.
King. Why take we hands then?

Ros.
Only to part friends.-
Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
King. More measure of this measure: be not nice.
Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize you yourselves? What buys your com-
pany?

Ros. Your absence only.
King.

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.
Ros. In private, then.

King. I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart.
Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with
thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar: there are three. Biron. Nay, then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice) Metheglin, wort, and malmsey.-Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets.

Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Kath. Bleat softly then the butcher hears you cry.
[They converse apart.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invisible,

Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange.
Ros. Play, music, then! nay, you must do it soon. Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
[Music plays. Above the sense of sense, so sensible
Not yet;-no dance :-thus change I like the moon. Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings,
1 Dyce, gives this speech to Boyet, as do most mod. eds. * A formal, slow dance. 3 To cog, was to load dice, to cheat, to deceive.

Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter | And utters it again when God1 doth please. things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids: break off, break off.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! King Farewell, mad wenches: you have simple wits. [Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music, and Attendants. 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, kill'd by pure flout1!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night,
Or ever, but in visors, show their faces?
This pert Biron was out of countenance 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. Dumaine was at my service, and his sword :
No point, quoth I: my servant straight was mute.
Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you, what he call'd me?
Prin.

Qualm, perhaps.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.
Prin.
Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps2,
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumaine 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 this 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 clouds3, 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 advised,
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 penn'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 over land.

[Exeunt PRINCESS, Ros. KATH. and MARIA. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, in their proper habits.

King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent: please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit.

Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas,

He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve:
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.
A' can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he,
That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy:
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whales bone5
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE,
MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.
Biron. See where he comes !—Behaviour, what wert

thou,

Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of
day!

Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then wish me better: I will give you leave.
King. We come to visit you, and purpose now

To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it, then.
Prin. This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men.
King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ;
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should have
spoke,

For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest;
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O! you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited; much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear:
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game.
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam! Russians?

Prin.

Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Ros. Madam, speak true.-It is not so, my lord:
My lady (to the manner of these days)
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
Biron. This jest is dry to me.-Fair, gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity

1 kingly-poor flout: in f. e. 2 By act of Parliament of 1571, all persons not noble, were ordered to wear woollen caps.
clouds which hid them. 4 So the quarto; the folio: Jove. 5 The tooth of the walrus, formerly called the whale.
madman; which Dyce would retain.

3 Lowering the

6 The old eds have :

Is of that nature, that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my
eye,-

Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O! I am yours, and all that I possess.
Ros. All the fool mine?
Biron.
I cannot give you less.
Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore?
Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand
you this?

Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and show'd the better face.
King. We are descried: they'll mock us now down-
right.

high

Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your ness sad?

Ros. Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. look you pale?—

Why

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

King. Upon mine honour, no.
Prin.
Peace! peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force2 not to forswear.
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will; and therefore keep it.-Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear
As precious eye-sight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.

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 plain,

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for per- You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. jury.

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;
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.

O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,

Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend;

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song; Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,

Figures pedantical; these summer flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.

I do forswear them; and I here protest

King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give :
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.-
What! will you have me, or your pearl again?

Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.—
I see the trick on 't :-here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To dash it like a Christmas comedy.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she 's dispos'd,
Told our intents before; which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favours, and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God We are again forsworn-in will, and error.
knows.)

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin,-wench, so God help me, la !
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros. Sans SANS, I pray you.
Biron.
Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage:-bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft! let us see:-
Write "Lord have mercy on us" on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Biron. Peace! for I will not have to do with you.
Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

Biron. Speak for yourselves: my wit is at an end.
King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude trans-
gression

Some fair excuse.

Much upon this it is :—and might not you [To BOYET.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?

Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire3.
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

You put our page out: go, you are allow'd,
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet.

Full merrily

Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Biron. Lo! he is tilting straight. Peace! I have
done.

Enter COSTARD.

Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Whether the three Worthies shall come in, or no.
Biron. What, are there but three?
Cost.

No, sir; but it is vara fine,

For every one pursents three.

Biron.

And three times thrice is nine.

Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir, I hope, it

is not so.

You cannot beg1 us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know:

The inscription, written on houses infected with the plague. 2 Hesitate; an old use of the word. custody of us as lunatics.

2 Panther's.

had a sweet odour. 4 Used for walls in place of tapestry. 5 The arms given to Alexander in the old history of the Nine Worthies, were

1 Such was an old popular belief often referred to. 2 Guitar-heads often had a face carved on them. 3 Powder-flask. gilt. It is spoken of as a sort of charm, in Ben Jonson's "Gipsies Metamorphosed." 5 A common practice. 6 f. e. have the direction: BIRON whispers COSTARD. 7 Not in f. e. 8 The quarter-staff was most in use in the North. 9 With the woollen outer garment next the