Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this;

The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;

When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her

name,

And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;

And to her white hand see thou do commend

This seal'd up counsel. There's thy guerdon '; go. [Gives him money.

Cost. Guerdon, O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet guerdon!-I will do it, sir, in print.3 - Guerdon remuneration.

[Exit. Biron. O! And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;

A very beadle to a humorous sigh;

A critick; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!

This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;

2 Reward.

3 With the utmost exactness. 4 Hooded, veiled.

And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his most mighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan ; Some men must love my lady, and some Joan,

ACT THE FOURTH.

[Exit.

SCENE I.

A Pavilion in the Park.

Enter the Princess, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester.

Prin. Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think, it was not he. Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind.

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.
For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Prin, What, what? first praise me, and again
say, no?

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!

For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin.
Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[Giving him money.
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.—
But come, the bow: Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;

When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart:

As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty

Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord.

Enter COSTARD.

Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

Cost. Pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth

is truth.

Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will? Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Birón, to one lady Rosaline.

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend
of mine:

Stand aside, good bearer.
Break up this capon.
Boyet.

Boyet, you can carve;

I am bound to serve.This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous: truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and ke it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (O base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king: Why did he come? to see; Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What saw he? the beggar: Who overcame he? the beggar The conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's: The captive is enriched; On whose side? the beggar's: The catastrophe is a nuptial On whose side? the king's? no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; For tittles, titles; For

VOL. II.

A A

thyself, me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thee.

Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter?

What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the

style.

Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.'

Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;

A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the prince, and his book-mates.

Thou, fellow, a word:

I told you; my lord.

From my lord to my lady.

Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?
Cost.
Prin. From which lord, to which lady?

Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,

To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.

Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter.

lords, away.

Come,

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day.

5 Just now.

[Exeunt.

3