That can never be. King. Ros. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you! King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Ros. In private then. King. I am best pleased with that. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu: Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Biron. Thou griev'st my gall. Prin. Biron. Let it not be sweet. Gall? Bitter. Therefore meet. [They converse apart. Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? Mar. Name it. Dum. Mar. Fair lady, Say you so? Fair lord, Please it you, Take that for your fair lady. Dum. As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. [They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue? Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman.-Is not veal a calf? Long. Let's part the word. No, a fair lord calf. No, I'll not be your half. Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Long. Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks! Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so. Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the sense of sense. So sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By Heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt King, Lords, MOTH, Music, and Attendants. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.Are these the breed of wits so wondered at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out. Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night? Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Birón was out of countenance quite. Ros. O they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword. No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And trow you what he called me? Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. In their own shapes; for it can never be, Boyet. Prin. How blow? how blow? Speak to be understood. Boyet. Fair ladies, masked, are roses in their bud. Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels veiling clouds, or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advised, Boyet. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand. [Exeunt Princess, Ros., KATH., and MARIA. Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when Jove doth please. He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares At wakes and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs; And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve: Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve. He can carve too, and lisp. Why this is he That kissed away his hand in courtesy ; This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice In honorable terms; nay, he can sing A mean most meanly; and, in ushering, Mend him who can. The ladies call him sweet; The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. This is the flower that smiles on every one, To show his teeth as white as whales bone; And consciences that will not die in debt, Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! Enter the Princess, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants. Biron. See where it comes!-Behavior, what wert thou, Till this man showed thee? and what art thou now? VOL. I.-32 King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. A world of torments though I should endure, King. How, madam? Russians? Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord; My lady, (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four Ros. All the fool mine? Biron. I cannot give you less. King. We are descried; they'll mock us now downright. Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; 1 Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; Nor never come in visor to my friend; Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song. Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. I do forswear them, and I here protest, By this white glove, (how white the hand, God knows!) Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expressed In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes. And, to begin, wench,so God help me, la!— Biron. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage. -Bear with me; I am sick; They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes. For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit; seek not to undo us. |