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King. All hail, sweet madain, and fair time of day!
purpose now To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then, Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
have spoke ;
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
I would not yield to be your house's guest;
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
We have liad pastimes here, and pleasant game; A iness of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam? Russians ?
Ay, in truth, my lord;
lord; My lady (to the manner of the days*), In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that haur, my lord, They did not bless us with ou'e happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, Wheu they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
After the fashion of the times.
Biron. This jest is dry to me--Fair, gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish;, when we grect With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light: Your capacity Is of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor..
Ros: This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye, Biron. I am a fool, aod fall of poverty.
Ros. But that you take what doch to you belong, It were a fault to spatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess.
I cannot give you less.
you this? Ros. There, then, thatvisor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now
downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your liigh
ness sad? Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why
look you pale?Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for per
jury... Can any face of brass hold longer outHere stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me;
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout? Thrust, thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thec never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, :
Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend*;
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
Ros. Sans Sans, I pray you.
Yet I have a trick
Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us.
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you.
gression Some fair excuse. Prin.
The fairest is confession.
King. Madam, I was.
And were you well advisid?
When you then were here,
IS (KE T T S: S
Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re.
Peace, peace, forbear;
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will; and therefore keep it :-Rosalive,
Ros. Madam, lie-swore, that he did hold me dear
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Ros. By heaven, you did ; aud to confirm it plain,
King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give;
Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.
is . Dick,-
* Make no difficulty.
+ Conspiracy. Buffoou. Mach upon this it is :- And might not you,
(To Boyet. Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this
been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Biron. What, are there but three.
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
And three times thrice is nine. Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope,
it is not so: You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we
know what we know: I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,Biron.
Is not nine. Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for
nine, Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.
Biron. How much is it?