This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. Prin. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Qualm, perhaps. Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.2 But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. In their own shapes; for it can never be, They will digest this harsh indignity. Prin. Will they return? Boy. They will, they will, God knows; And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore, change favors; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. 1 A quibble on the French adverb of negation. Boy. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds,1 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 advised, Let's mock them still, as well known as disguised : Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguised 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. Boy. 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? Boy. Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boy. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. 1 'Letting those clouds, which obscured their brightness, sink from before them.'-Johnson. Bir. 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,1 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 In honorable terms; nay, he can sing A mean most meanly; and, in ushering, Mend him who can : the ladies call him, sweet; King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! 1 Rustic merry meetings. 2 The tenor in music. 3 The tooth of the horse whale, or walrus. Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants. Bir. See where it comes !-Behavior, what wert thou, Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your VOW: Nor God nor I delight in perjured men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke ; The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honor, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear: We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game. A mess of Russians left us but of late. King. How, madam ? Russians? Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord. 1 Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. 1 Ros. Madam, speak true.-It is not so, my lord: My lady, (to the manner of the days) 1 In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted were with four In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools, but this I think; When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Bir. This jest is dry to me.-My gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light. Your capacity Is of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye, Bir. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. 1 According to the fashion of the times. |