King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have fimple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the breed of wits so wondred at ?

Boyet. Tapers they are, with your fweet breaths puft out. Ref. Well-liking wits they have; grofs, grofs; fat, fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout! Will they not (think you) hang themfelves to-night? Or ever, but in vizors, fhew their faces ? This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite. Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cafes. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Biron did fwear himfelf out of all fuit. Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his fword: No, point, quoth I; my servant ftrait was mute. Cath. Lord Longaville faid, I came o'er his heart; And, trow you, what he call'd me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps.

Cath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, fickness as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps.
But will you hear? the King is my love fworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my fervice born.
Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here

In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digeft 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 fummer air.

Prin. How, blow? how, blow? speak to be underflood.
Boyet. Fair ladies, mafkt, are roses in their bud;
Or angel-veiling clouds are rofes blown,

Difmafkt, their damask fweet commixture shewn.

VOL. II.

L

Prin

L

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do,
If they return in their own fhapes to woo?

Rof. Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Let's mock them ftill, as well known, as difguis'd;
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Difguis'd, like Mufcovites, in fhapeless gear;
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their fhallow fhows, and prologue vilely pen'd,
And their rough carriage fo ridiculous,
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.

A CTV.

SCENE, before the Princess's Pavilion.

Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their own habits; Boyet, meeting them.

F

KING.

AIR Sir, God fave you! Where's the Princefs?
Boyet. Gone to her Tent.

Please it your Majefty, command me any service to her?
King. That the vouchfafe me audience for one word.
Boyet. I will; and fo will fhe, I know, my lord. [Exit.
Biron. This fellow picks up wit, as pigeons peas;
And utters it again, when Jove doth please:
He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares
At wakes and waffals, meetings, markets, fairs:
And we that fell by grofs, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with fuch show.

This gallant pins the wenches on his fleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.
He can carve too, and lifp: why, this is he,
That kift away his hand in courtefy;
This is the ape of form, Monfieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can fing
A mean moft mainly; and, in ufhering,
Mend him who can; the ladies call him fweet;
The ftairs, as he treads on them, kifs his feet.
This is the flower, that smiles on every one,
To fhew his teeth, as white as whale his bone.
And confciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

King. A blifter on his fweet tongue with my heart, That put Armado's Page out of his part!

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine,
Boyet, and attendants.

Biron. See, where it comes; behaviour, what wert thou,
"Till this man fhew'd thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, fweet Madam, and fair time of day!.
Prin. Fair in all hail is foul, as I conceive.
King. Conftrue my fpeeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then with me better, I will give you leave.
King. We come to vifit you, and purpofe now
To lead you to our Court; vouchfafe it then.
Prin. This field fhall hold me, and fo 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 muft break my oath.
Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should have fpoke:
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.

Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure

As the unfully'd lilly, I proteft,

A world of torments though I fhould endure,
I would not yield to be your houfe's guest:

So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heav'nly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O, you have liv'd in defolation here,
Unfeen, unvifited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not fo, my lord; it is not fo, I fwear;
We have had paftimes here, and pleasant game.
A mefs of Ruffians left us but of late.

King. How, Madam? Ruffians?

Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.

Ro Madam, fpeak true. It is not fo, my lord: My lady (to the manner of the days)

In courtefy gives undeserving praise.

We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Rufian habit: here they ftay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not blefs 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 jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle, sweet,
Your wit makes wife things foolish; when we greet
With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lofe light; your capacity

Is of that nature, as to your huge store

Wife things feem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Rof. This proves you wife and rich; for in my eye-
Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Rof. 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 poffefs.
Rof. All the fool mine?

Biron, I cannot give you lefs.

Rof. Which of the vizors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what vizor? why demand you this? Rof. There, then, that vizor, that fuperfluous cafe, That hid the worfe, and fhew'd the better face. King. We are defcried; they'll mock us now downright.

Dum.

Dum. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jeft.

Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your Highness fad? Ro Help, hold his brows, he'll fwoon: why look you pale ?

Sea-fick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the ftars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brafs hold longer out?

Here ftand I, lady, dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout;
Thrust thy fharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
And I will with thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Ruffian habit wait.
O! never will I trust to fpeeches pen'd,

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

Nor woo in rhime, like a blind harper's fong; Taffata-phrafes, filken terms precife,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation,

Figures pedantical, thefe fummer-flies,

Have blown me full of maggot oftentation:

I do forfwear them; and I here proteft,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God knows! Henceforth my wooing mind fhall be exprest

In ruffet yeas, and honest kerfy noes: And to begin, wench, (fo God help me, law!) My love to thee is found, fans crack or flaw. Rof. Sans, fans, I pray you.

Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage: bear with me, I am fick.

I'll leave it by degrees: foft, let us fee;

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 :
Thefe lords are vifited, you are not free;

For the lord's tokens on you both I fee.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave thefe tokens to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.