For he hath wit to make an ill fhape good, And much too little of that good I saw, great worthiness. Rofa. Another of these students at that time Prin. God bless my ladies, are they all in love, With fuch bedecking ornaments of praise! Mar. Here comes Boyet. Enter Boyet. Prin. Now, what admittance, Lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he and his competitors in oath Were all addrest to meet you, gentle lady, Before I came: marry, thus much I've learnt, To let you enter his unpeopled house. Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and Attendants. King. Fair Princefs, welcome to the Court of Na arre. Prin. Fair, I give you back again; and welcome I have not yet: the roof of this Court is too high to be yours; and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine. King. You fhall be welcome, Madam, to my Court. Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither. King. Hear me, dear lady, I have fworn an oath. Prin. Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forfworn. King. Not, for the world, fair Madam, by my will. Prin. Why, Will fhall break its will, and nothing elfe. King. Your ladyfhip is ignorant what it is. Prin. Were my lord fo, his ignorance were wife, But pardon me, I am too fudden bold : King. Madam, I will, if fuddenly I may. Rof. How needlefs was it then to ask the question? Biron. You must not be fo quick. Rof. 'Tis long of you, that fpur me with fuch questions. Biron. Your wit's too hot, it fpeeds too faft, 'twill tire. Rof. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire. Rof. The hour, that fools fhould ask. King. Madam, your father here doth intimate But fay, that he, or we, as neither have, Although not valu'd to the mony's worth: An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, (7) To have his title live in Aquitain; Which we much rather had depart withal, Than Aquitain fo gelded as it is. Dear Princefs, were not his requests fo far From reason's yielding, your fair self should make (7) And not demands One payment of an hundred thousand Crowns, To bave bis Title live in Aquitaine.] The old Books concur in this Reading, and Mr. Pope has embraced it; tho', as I conceive, it is stark Nonfenfe, and repugnant to the Circumftance fuppos'd by our Poet. I have, by reforming the Pointing, and throwing out a fingle Letter, reftor'd, I believe, the genuine Senfe of the Paffage. Aquitain was pledg'd, it seems, to Navarre's father, for 200000 Crowns. The French King pretends to have paid one Moiety of this Debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of,) but demands this Moiety back again : instead whereof (fays Navarre) he should rather pay the remaining Moiety, and demand to have Aqui tain redeliver'd up to him. This is plain and eafy Reafoning upon the Fact fuppos'd; and Navarre declares, he had rather receive the Refidue of his Debt, than detain the Province mortgag'd for Security of it. A A yielding 'gainst fome reafon in my breast; Prin. You do the King my father too much Prin. We arrest your word: King. Satisfie me so. wrong, Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other fpecialties are bound: To morrow you shall have a fight of them. King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview, Mean time, receive fuch welcome at my hand, Prin. Sweet health and fair defires confort your Grace! King. Thy own Wish wish I thee, in every place. [Exit. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart, I would be glad to fee it. Biron. I would, you heard it groan. Rof. Is the fool fick ? Rof. Alack, let it blood. Biron. Would that do it good? Rof. Rof. My phyfick fays, ay. Biron. Will you prick't with your eye? [Exit. Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame ? Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name. [Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word: what is she in white? Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the light. Long. Perchance, light in the light; I defire her name. Boyet. She hath but one for her felf; to defire That, were a shame. Long. Pray you, Sir, whofe daughter? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. She is an heir of Faulconbridge. Boyet. Not unlike, Šir; that may be. Biron. Is the wedded, or no? Boyet. Catharine, by good hap. Boyet. To her will, Sir, or fo. [Exit Long. Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu! Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you. [Exit Biron: Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jeft, Boyet. And every jeft but a word. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word. Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board. Mar. Two hot fheeps, marry. Boyet. |