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Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be! Dum. 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

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.
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
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
[you ;

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

(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



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'll not be nice: take hands ;-we will not
King. Why take we hands then ?
Only to part friends:-
Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
King. More measure of this measure; be not


Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your
Your absence only. [company?
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.
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 is
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.
Biron. One word in secret.


Biron. Thou griev'st my gall.

Let it not be sweet.
Gall? bitter.


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Take that for your fair lady.

Please it you,

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu..

[They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue ?

Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Kath. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.
Long. You have a double tongue within your
And would afford my speechless visor half. [mask
King. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ;-Is not veal
Long. A calf, fair lady?

fa calf?

No, a fair lord calf.
Long. Let's part the word.

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 !

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
As is the razor's edge invisible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;


Above the sense of sense: so sensible [wings,
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
[break off.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off,
Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple

[Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, Musick, and Attend.


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.
[fat, fat.
Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross,
Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
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. Dumain 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?

Qualm, perhaps.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.
Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-

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. 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?
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. [stood.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be under-
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;
Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Mar. Name it.
[word? Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;



Therefore meet. [They converse apart.

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Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, 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

Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas;
And utters it again when God doth please:
He is wit's pedler; and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassels, 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:
He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he,
That kiss'd away his hand 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 us whales bone:
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
That put Armado's page out of his part! [heart,
Enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; Rosaline,
Maria, Katharine, and Attendants.

Biron. See where it 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

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 came 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


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
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam? Russians?

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 the days,)
In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted here with four
In Russian habit; here they staid 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
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
Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. [eye,-
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?

I cannot give you less.
Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore ?
Biron. Where? when? what visor? why de-

mand 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 downright.

ness sad?

Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your high-
[look you pale?—
Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon? Why
Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for


Can any face of brass hold longer out?—
Here stand 1, 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;
Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song:

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,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God

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.

[to us.

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
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
Some fair excuse.


The fairest is confession.
Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd?
King. Madam, I was.


And were you well advis'd?

King. I was, fair madam.

When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear? [her.
King. That more than all the world I did respect
Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will

reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.
Peace, peace, forbear;
Your oath once broke, you force not to fors wear.
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, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

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

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That sport best pleases, that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter Armado.

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expence of royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.

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.-thy
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

[Dick,Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some 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,
We are again forsworn: in will, and error.
Much upon this it is:-And might not you,

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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 ?
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
And three times thrice is nine.
Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope,
it is not so:

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

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,-

Is not nine. Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for


Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man; Pompion the great,


Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?

Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great: for mine own part, I know

[Armado converses with the King, and delivers
him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making.
Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey mo-
narch: for, I protest, the school-master is exceed.
ing fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain; But
we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra.
I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couple-
[Erit Armado.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus.

And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five.

Biron. There is five in the first show.

King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedgepriest, the fool, and the boy :

Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world

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Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,
Dum. The great.

Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam'd the great; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance;


And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of
If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I had
Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.
Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was
perfect: I made a little fault in, great.
Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves
the best worthy.

Enter Nathaniel arm'd, for Alexander.
Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquer-| ing might:

My 'scutcheon pain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. [smelling knight. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tenderPrin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander ;

Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, AliBiron. Pompey the great,[sander. Cost. Your servant, and Costard. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. O, sir, [to Nath.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror ! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted :-But there are worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?

Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timbered.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.

Biron. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift,

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace!

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;



man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea From morn till night, out of his pavilion. am that flower,



That mint.

That columbine. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: Enter Holofernes, arm'd, for Judas, and Moth, when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward

arm'd, for Hercules.

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Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. False: we have given thee faces. Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go. And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name. Biron. For the ass to the Jude, give it him :Jud-as, away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle; not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble. [baited! Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been

Enter Armado, arm'd, for Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing.

[Biron whispers Costard. Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector fur surmounted Hannibal,Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates?

thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey !

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey, the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, more A tes; stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword:-I pray you, let me borrow my arins again.

Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you for't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go wool ward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore

none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's ; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.

Enter Mercade.

Mer. God save you, madam!
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life.

Mer. Even so; my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath:
I have seen the day of wrong through the little
hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a
[Exeunt Worthies.

King. How fares your majesty?
Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say.-I thank you, gracious
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, [lords,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of cur spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue :
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,

The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

To make a world-without-end bargain in :
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this,-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning:
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.

A time, methinks, too short

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to

Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank;
You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to
Kath. A wife -A beard, fair health, and ho-

From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost, With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double.
Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of

And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty,

Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All warton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true

To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a

I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.

Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long, What says Maria?


At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won,)
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,

Your favours, the embassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more
Long. So did our looks.
[than jest.
We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing

Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans,

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