Prin. SCENE III. Enter Princefs, and Ladies. Weet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in. A lady wall'd about with diamonds! Look you, what I have from the loving king. Rof. Madam, came nothing else along with that? 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 shrewd unhappy gallows too. Rof. You'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd your fister. Cath. He made her melancholy, fad, and heavy, And fo fhe died; had fhe been light like you, Of fuch a merry, nimble, ftirring 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. Rof. Look, what you do, you do it ftill i'th' dark. But, Rofaline, you have a favour too; Who fent it? and what is it? Rof. Rof. I would, you knew. And if my face were but as fair as yours, The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too, I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. 0, he hath drawn my picture in his letter. Rof. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise. Cath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book. a Rof. 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 verses of a faithful lover: A huge tranflation 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 Mar. Ay, or I would thefe hands might never part! And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, Meaning to check Catharine for her painting, pencil being a painting-brush. S 2 And And shape his service all to my behests, And make him proud to make me proud with jefts: 2 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, Rof. The blood of youth burns not in fuch excefs, 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. Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare! Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; Portents have been always look'd upon not only as the tokens and fignals, but the inftruments alfo, of destiny. See a note in Meaf. for Meaf. A&t. 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 well by heart hath conn'd his embaffage. I fhould have fear'd her, had he been a devil. With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the fhoulder, One rubb'd his elbow thus; and fleer'd, and fwore, Prin. And will they fo? the gallants fhall be task'd; And And not a man of them fhall have the grace, Hold, Rofaline; this favour thou shalt wear, And change your favours too, so shall your loves Rof. Come on then; wear the favours moft in fight. And mock for mock is only my intent. 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 spoke, 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 such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown; And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. [Sound. Boyet. The trumpet founds; be mask'd, the maskers come. SCENE V. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, Moth. |