Ros. Look, what you do; you do it still i' the dark.

KATH. So do not you; for you are a light wench.

Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light.

KATH. You weigh me not,-O, that's you care

not for me.

Ros. Great reason; for, Past cure is still past

care, a

PRIN. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.

But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?

Ros.
I would, you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:

The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too,

I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!
PRIN. Anything like?

Ros. Much, in the letters; nothing in the praise.

PRIN. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
KATH. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

b

Ros. 'Ware pencils, Ho! let me not die your debtor,

c

My red dominical, my golden letter: "
O that your face were not so *full of O's!

PRIN. A pox of that jest! and Ia beshrew all

shrows!

But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

MAR. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

PRIN. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking

So.

That same Biron I'll torture ere I go.

O, that I knew he were but in by the week! °
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek;
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes;
And shape his service wholly to my behests;*
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So portent-like would I o'ersway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

PRIN. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,

As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd, Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school; And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such

PRIN. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is‡ in his face.

BOYET. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace?

PRIN. Thy news, Boyet?
BOYET.

KATH. Madam, this glove.
PRIN.

KATH. Yes, madam; and moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover;

A huge translation of hypocrisy,

Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity.

MAR. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville;

The letter is too long by half a mile.

PRIN. I think no less: Dost thou not † wish in heart,

The chain were longer, and the letter short?

(*) First folio omits not so. (†) First folio omits not. a Past cure is still past care.] The old editions transpose the words cure and care; but Rosaline is quoting a familiar adage,"Things past cure, past care."

b 'Ware pencils, Ho!] The elder copies read, Ware pensals. How? Mr. Dyce has shown that, in books of the period, Ho! is frequently printed How? but he is wrong in saying that all editions have hitherto retained the old reading. Sir Thomas Hanmer, in his edition, 1744, gives the lection in the text.

e My golden letter:] Rosaline was a "darke ladye;" Katharine fair and golden haired; and, as in the early alphabets for children, A was printed in red, and B in black, ink, the taunting allusions are sufficiently expressive.

guis'd,

Arm'd in arguments; you'll be surpris'd:
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
PRIN. Saint Dennis to Saint Cupid! What are
they,

That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
BOYET. Under the cool shade of a sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd rest,

(*) The quarto and first folio have device.
(+) The quarto and first folio read wantons be.
(1) First folio omits is.

d And I beshrew all shrows!] To beshrew, is to imprecate sorrow, or evil, on any person or thing, to curse, &c.

e He were but in by the week!] To be in by the week, i.e. for a fixed period, was a frequent saying in former times; and is supposed to be taken from the custom of hiring servants, or operatives, generally.

f So portent-like-] The old copies have pertaunt-like. Hanmer first suggested portent-like; and he has been followed by most of the subsequent editors.

Toward that shade I might behold address'd
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear;
That, by and by, disguis'd they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage:
Action, and accent, did they teach him there;
Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear:
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Presence majestical would put him out;
For, quoth the king, an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.
The boy replied, An angel is not evil;

I should have fear'd her had she been a devil. With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the shoulder;

Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
One rubb'd his elbow, thus; and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was never spoke before:
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cried, Via! we will do't, come what will come :
The third he caper'd, and cried, All goes well;
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.

With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That, in this spleen ridiculous, appears,
To check their folly, passion's solemn tears."

PRIN. But what, but what, come they to visit us?
BOYET. They do, they do; and are apparell'd

thus,

Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance:
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favours several, which they did bestow.

PRIN. And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd:

For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd ;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady's face.
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the king will court thee for his dear;

a To check their folly, passion's solemn tears.] Mr. Collier's annotator, for "solemn tears," reads "sudden tears," which is, at least, a very plausible suggestion. But whether we have sudden, or solemn tears, I cannot help believing the line should run,To check their folly's passion, &c.

PRIN. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs: They do it but in mocking merriment; And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal, Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display'd, to talk and greet.

Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to 't? PRIN. No; to the death we will not move a foot, Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace: But, while 't is spoke, each turn away her* face. BOYET. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart,

And quite divorce his memory from his part.

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.

BOYET. They will not answer to that epithet, You were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes. MоTH. 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.

KING. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, To tread a measure (2) with her * on the grass. 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

(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, do but vouchsafe

one change:

Thou bidd'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then: nay, you must do it [Music plays.

soon.

(†) First folio, keeper's.

- she is the moon, and I the man.] An allusion to a stage character, with whom the audience of Shakespeare's day was perfectly familiar-the Man in the Moon.

*

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 yout yourselves: What buys your company ?

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 Muscovits.— 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 they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

PRIN. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!" Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight?

Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. Ros. O! 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 t;

And trow you what he call'd me?
PRIN.

KATH. Yes, in good faith.

PRIN.

Qualm, perhaps.

Go, sickness as thou art!