PRIN. Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt,

The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out.
There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game;

And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.

[Trumpets sound within.

BOYET. The trumpet sounds; be mask'd, the maskers come. [The ladies mask.

Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Russian habits, and masked; MOTH, Musicians, and Attendants.

MOTH. "All hail the richest beauties on the earth!"

BIRON. Beauties no richer than rich taffata.

[Aside.

MоTH. "A holy parcel of the fairest dames, [The ladies turn their backs to him. That ever turn'd their "—backs—" to mortal views!"

BIRON. "Their eyes," villain, "their eyes!"

MOTH. "That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views!

Out "

BOYET. True; out, indeed.

MOTH. "Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe

BOYET. They will not answer to that epithet,

You were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes.

MOTH. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
BIRON. Is this your perfectness? begone, you rogue!
Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:
If they do speak our language, 't is our will
That some plain man recount their purposes:
Know what they would.

BOYET. What would you with the princess?
BIRON. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. What would they, say they?

BOYET. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
BOYET. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.
KING. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
To tread a measure 28 with herb on the grass.

• This line belongs to Biron in the originals, but is usually given to Boyet. We agree with Tieck that it ought to be restored to Biron. He is vexed at finding the ladies masked, and sees nothing "richer than rich taffata." Mr. Dyce thinks it belongs to Boyet, who wishes to confuse Moth, while Biron is full of anxiety that the address should be correctly spoken.

Her, in the quarto; the folio, you.

BOYET. They say that they have measur'd many a mile,
To tread a measure with
you on this
grass.
Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inches
Is in one mile if they have measur'd many,
The measure then of one is easily told.
BOYET. If, to come hither, you have measur'd miles,
And many miles, the princess bids you tell,
How many inches do fill up one mile.

BIRON. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
BOYET. She hears herself.

Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

BIRON. We number nothing that we spend for you;
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,

That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
KING. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!

Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine
(Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;

Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. KING. Then, in our measure, vouchsafe but one change: Thou bidd'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then: nay, you must do it soon.

Not yet;-no dance :-thus change I like the moon. KING. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? Ros. You took the moon at full; but now she's changed. KING. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.

The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.

KING.

But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice: take hands;-we will not dance. KING. Why take we hands, then?

Ros.

:

Only to part friends :Court'sy, sweet hearts, and so the measure ends. KING. More measure of this measure; be not nice.

Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.

KING. Prize you yourselves: What buys your company?
Ros. Your absence only.

[Music plays.

We is the more correct reading, but the folio has you; the ladies give their hands.

BIRON. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
PRIN. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
BIRON. Nay, then, two treys (an if you grow so nice),
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey.-Well run, dice!
There's half a dozen sweets.

[They converse apart.

Let it not be sweet.

Gall? bitter.

Therefore meet.

Please it you,

[They converse apart.

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
KATH. What, was your visor made without a tongue?
LONG. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

KATH. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.
LONG. You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless visor half.

KATH. Veal, quoth the Dutchman :-Is not veal a calf?
LONG. A calf, fair lady?

KATH.

No, a fair lord calf.

No, I'll not be your half:

LONG. Let's part the word.

KATH.

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. LONG. One word in private with you, ere I die.

KATH. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry.

[They converse apart.

Biron says "Well run, dice." The Princess says he can cog.-To cog the dice is to load them, -and thence, generally, to defraud.

BOYET. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invisible,

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 wonder'd at?

BOYET. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.
Ros. Well-liking wits a 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 Biron was out of countenance quite.
Ros. Ob they were all in lamentable cases!

The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
PRIN. Biron 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 call'd me?

PRIN.

Qualm, perhaps.

KATH. Yes, in good faith.
PRIN.
Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps 29.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
PRIN. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
KATH. And Longaville was for my service born.
MAR. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
BOYET. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here

In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.

PRIN. Will they return?

BOYET.

They will, they will, God knows,

And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:

Well-liking is used in the same sense in which the young of the wild goats in Job are said to be in good-liking.

bO! was added in the second folio.

• See note on Act II., Scene 1.

Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.
PRIN. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
BOYET. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud:
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels vailing clouds a, 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 advis'd,
Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd:
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder what they were; and to what end
Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
BOYET. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
PRIN. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.

[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 b?

KING. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
BOYET. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
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 kiss'd away his hand in courtesy ;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice

To vail-to avale-to cause to fall down; the clouds open as the angels descend.

⚫ Thither, which is the reading of the quarto, is omitted in the folio.

[Exit.

Pecks. So the quarto; the folio, picks. We adopt the reading which more distinctly expresses the action of a bird with its beak.

VOL. I.