Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more We did not quote' them so: King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. Prin. Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, For the remembrance of my father's death. Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick. Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, What humble suit attends thy answer there; Impose some service on me for thy love. Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks; Full of comparisons and wounding flouts; Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercy of your wit: To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Biran. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. leave. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my [To the King. King. No, madam: we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, And then 'twill end. Biron. That's too long for a play. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. SONG. I. Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, Do paint the meadows with delight, Cuckoo, cuckoo,- O word of fear, II. When Shepherds pipe on oaten straws, Cuckoo, cuckoo, O word of fear, III. Winter. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, To-whit, to-who a merry note, IV. When all aloud the wind doth blow, 9 To-whit, to-who, a merry note, Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt. Scum. 9 Wild apples. END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. Printed by A. Strahan, Printers-Street, London. |