Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. Hol. Allons! we will employ thee. Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them dance the hay. Hol. Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport, away. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another part of the same. Before the Princess's pavilion. Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA. Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we de part, If fairings come thus plentifully in: A lady wall'd about with diamonds!— Look you, what I have from the loving king. Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that? Prin. Nothing but this? yes, as much love in rhyme, As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. Ros. That was the way to make his godhead wax ; 1 For he hath been five thousand years a boy. I Grow. Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. Ros. You'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd your sister. Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy ; And so she died: had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might have been a grandam ere she died: And so may you; for a light heart lives long. Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse,1 of this light word? Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. Ros. We need more light to find your meaning out. Kath. You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuff; 2 Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. 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. Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd. This word was formerly a term of endearment. 2 In anger. But, Rosaline, you have a favor too: Ros. 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. Ros. 'Ware pencils! How? let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter. O, that your face were not so full of Os! 1 Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows! Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain? Kath. Madam, this glove. Prin. Did he not send you twain? Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover: A huge translation of hypocrisy: 1 Marks of the small pox. Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa ville: 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? 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! 1 That he should be my fool, and I his fate. 3 Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd, Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such ex cess, As gravity's revolt to wantonness. 1 'I wish I was as sure of his service for any time limited as if I had hired him.'-Steevens. 2 Commands. 3 I would make him proud to flatter me, who make a mock of his flattery. Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note, Enter BOYET. Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Boy. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace? Prin. Thy news, Boyet? Boy. Prepare, madam, prepare!— Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are Against your peace. Love doth approach disguised, That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say. I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; I stole into a neighbor thicket by, That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage : |