King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke; The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke ; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear. We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. 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 In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. After the fashion of the times. Biron. This jest is dry to me-Fair, gentle sweet, Is of that nature, that to your huge store Ros, But that you take what doth to you belong, Biron. I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biron, Where? when? what visor? why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that visor; 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 highness 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 jury... Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; per 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 thee 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*; * Mistress. Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, Three-pil'd 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 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd 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. Ros. It is not so; For how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you. Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse. Prin. The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even, now, disguis'd? King. Madam, I was. Prin.. King. I was, fair madam. Prin. And were you well advis'd? When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re ject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. Prin. Peace, peace, forbear; Your oath once broke, you force* not to forswear. King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. Prin. I will; and therefore keep it :-Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear? Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-sight; and did value me Above this world: adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover. Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word. King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath, Ros. By heaven, you did; aud to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear:What; will you have me, or your pearl again? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on't;-Here was a consent t (Knowing aforehand of our merriment), To dash it like a Christmas comedy: Some carry-tale, some please man, some slight zany‡, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, 1 That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick * Make no difficulty. Conspiracy. Buffoon. Much upon this it is :—And might not you, [To Boyet. Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue? You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd; Boyet. Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have done. Enter Costard. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no. Cost. No, sir; but it is vara fine, And three times thrice is nine. For every one pursents three. Biron. 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,— Is not nine. Biron. 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? • Rule. |