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Prin. And will they fo? the gallants fhall be task'd;
For, Ladies, we will every one be mask'd:
And not a man of them fhall have the grace,
Defpight of fuit, to fee a lady's face.

Hold, Rofaline; this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the King will court thee for his dear:
Hold, take you this, my fweet, and give me thine;
So fhall Biron take me for Rofaline,

And change your favours too; fo fhall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.

Rof. Come on then, wear the favours most in fight. Cath. But in this changing, what is your intent? Prin. Th' 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 councils they unbosom shall
To loves miftook, and fo be mock'd withal,
Upon the next occafion that we meet,
With vifages display'd, to talk and greet.

Rof. But fhall we dance, if they defire 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 'tis fpoke, 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; The reft will ne'er come in,

and I make no doubt,
if he be out.

There's no fuch sport, as fport by sport o'erthrown, 'To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; So fhall we ftay, mocking intended game;

And they, well mock'd, depart away with fhame.

[Sound: Boyet. The trumpet founds; be mask'd, the maskers

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Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, difguis'd like Mufcovites; Moth with mufic, as for a masquerade.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!

Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames, That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views.

[The ladies turn their backs to him.

Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views. Out

Biron. True; out, indeed.

Moth. Out of your favours, heav'nly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold.

Biron. Once to behold, rogue,

Moth. Once to behold with your fun-beamed eyesWith your fun-beamed eyes

Boyet. They will not anfwer to that epithet; You were beft call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me

out.

Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue.
Rof. What would these strangers? know their minds,
Boyet.

If they do fpeak our language, 'tis our will
That fome plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the Princess?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle visitation.
Rof. What would they, fay they?

Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rof. Why, that they have; and bid them fo be gone,
Boyet. She fays, you have it; and you may be gone.
King. Say to her, we have meafur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on the grass.

Boyet. They fay, that they have meafur'd many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Rof. It is not fo. Afk them, how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many,

The measure then of one is eafily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles; the Princess bids you tell, How many inches doth fill up one mile ?

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

Boyet. She hears herself.

Rof. How many weary steps

Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,

Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you; Our duty is fo rich, fo infinite,

That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhew the funfline of your face,
That we (like favages) may worship it.

Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King. Bleffed are clouds, to do as fuch clouds do.
Vouchfafe, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to shine
(Thofe clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.
Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter;
Thou now request'ft but moonshine in the water.
King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one change;
Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not ftrange.

Rof. Play, mufic, then; nay, you must do it foon. Not yet? no dance? thus change I, like the moon. King. Will you not dance? how come you thus eftrang'd?

Rof. You took the moon at full, but now fhe's chang'd.

King. Yet ftill fhe is the moon, and I the man. The mufic plays, vouchfafe fome motion to it. Rof. Our ears vouchsafe it.

King. But your legs fhould do it.

Rof. Since you are ftrangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice; take hands;-we will not dance. King. Why take you hands then!

Rof. Only to part friends;

Curt'fie, sweet hearts, and fo the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.
King. Prize yourfelves then; what buys your com-
pany?

Rof. Your abfence only.

King. That can never be.

Rof. Then cannot, we be bought; and so adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.

Rof. In private then.

King. I am beft pleas'd with that.

Biron. White-handed mistress, one fweet word with thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and fugar, there is three. Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow fo

nice,

Methegline, wort, and malmsey ;-
There's half a dozen fweets.

Prin. Seventh fweet, adieu;

-well run, dice:

Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.

Biron. One word in fecret.

Prin. Let it not be sweet.

Biron. Thou griev'ft my gall.

Prin. Gall? bitter

Biron. Therefore meet.

Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? Mar. Name it.

Dum. Fair Lady,

Mar. Say you fo? fair Lord:

Take that for your fair Lady.

Dum. Please it you;

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.

Cath. What, was your vifor made without a tongue ? Long. I know the reafon, Lady, why you ask. Cath. O, for your reafon! quickly, Sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechlefs vizor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutch-man; is not veal a calf?

Long. A calf, fair Lady?

Cath. No, a fair Lord calf.

Long. Let's part the word.

Cath. No, I'll not be your half;

Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chafte Lady? do not fo.

Cath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Cath. Bleat foftly then, the butcher hears you cry.

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Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge, invincible,

Cutting a fmaller hair than may be feen:

Above the sense of sensible, so sensible

Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, fwifter things.

Rof. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break

off.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure fcoff.-King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have fimple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords.

SCENE VI.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.
Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at?
Boyet. Tapers they are with your fweet breaths puft

out.

Rof. Well-liking wits they have; grofs, grofs; fat,

fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout!
Will they not (think you) hang themselves to-night?
Or ever, but in vizors, fhew their faces ?
This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cafes.
The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin. Biron did fwear himself out of all fuit.
Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his fword:
No, point, quoth I; my fervant ftraight was mute.
Cath. Lord Longaville faid I came o'er his heart,
And trow you what he call'd me?
Prin. Qualm, perhaps.

Cath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, ficknefs as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps.
But will you hear? the King is my love fworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath pl ghted faith to me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my fervice born.
· Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear
Immediately they will again be here

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