Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, With groaning wretches; and your task fhall be, T'enforce the pained impotent to smile. Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impoffible: Mirth cannot move a foul in agony. Rof. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which fhallow laughing hearers give to fools: A jeft's profperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans, X 2 And And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation. Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will befall, I'll jeft a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave. [to the king. King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Fill; thefe ladies' courtesy, Might well have made our sport a comedy. King. Come, fir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, And then 'twill end. Biron. That's too long for a play. Enter Armado. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her fweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have follow'd in the end of our fhow. King. Call them forth quickly; we will do so. This fide is Hiems, winter: Enter all. This Ver, the spring: the one maintain'd by the owl, Ver, begin. The |