Is a fharp wit, match'd with too blunt a will; Whofe edge hath power to cut, whofe will ftill wills It should spare none, that come within his power. Prin. Some merry-mocking lord, belike; is't fo? Mar. They fay fo moft, that moft his humours know. Prin. Such fhort-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest? Cath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, Of all that virtue love, for virtue lov'd. Moft power to do moft harm, leaft knowing ill; Rof. Another of these students at that time Prin. God bless my ladies, are they all in love, Enter Boyet. Prin. Now, what admittance, Lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he and his competitors in oath Were Were all addreft to meet you, gentle lady, Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and King. FAIR Princefs, welcome to the Court of Navarre. 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, 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. For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay. Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Rof. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Biron. I know, you did. 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 queftions. Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. Rof. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire. Biron. What time o'day? Rof. The hour, that fools fhould afk. Biron. Nay, then will I be gone. King. Madam, your father here doth intimate But fay, that he, or we, as neither have, Although not valu'd to the money's worth: Which we much rather had depart withal, Dear Dear Princess, were not his requests fo far Prin. You do the King my father too much Of that, which hath fo faithfully been paid. Prin. We arreft your word: Boyet, you can produce acquittances King. Satisfy me fo. wrong, Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties 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, Your own good thoughts excufe me, and farewel; Prin. Sweet health and fair defires confort your 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. Biren. I would, you heard it groan. Rol. Rof. Is the fool fick? Rof. Alack, let it blood. Biron. Would that do it good? Rof. My phyfic fays, ay. Biron. Will you prick't with your eye? Biron. Now God fave thy life! Rof. And yours from long living! [Exit. Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame? Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady; Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word: what is fhe in white? Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you faw her in the light. Long. Perchance, light in the light; I defire her name. Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to defire That, were a fhame. Long. Pray you, Sir, whose daughter? Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. She is an heir of Faulconbridge. Long. Nay, my choller is ended: She is a most sweet lady. Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be, [Exit Long. Biron. What's her name in the cap? Boyet. Catharine, by good hap Biron. Is fhe wedded, or no? Boyet. To her will, Sir, or fo. 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 jest. Boyet. |