Imágenes de páginas

Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames, That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views. Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

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

Boyet. True; out, indeed.

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

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

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

With your fun-beamed eyes—

Boyet. They will not answer 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 vifitation.
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 say, they have measur❜d many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on the grass.

Rof. It is not fo: ask them how many inches

Is in one mile: if they have meafur'd many,

The measure then of one is eafily told.


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

you tell,

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
Our duty is fo rich, fo infinite,

That we may do it ftill without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhow the funshine 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.
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine
(Those 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 strange.

Rof. Play, mufick, 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 mufick plays; vouchfafe fome motion to it.
Rof. Our ears vouchfafe 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.

Court'fy, fweet hearts; and fo the meafure ends.

King. More meafure of this meafure; be not nice.

Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.

King. Prize yourselves then; what buys your company?
Rof. Your absence 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,
Metheglin, wort, and malmfey; well run, dice!
There's half a dozen fweets.

Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu;

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's 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 fair lady.


Dum. Please it you;

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

Cath. What, was your visor made without a tongue?
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Cath. O, for your reafon! quickly, fir; I long.
Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,

And would afford my speechlefs vifor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman; 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



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

Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

Above the fenfe of fenfe: fo fenfible

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. Farewell, mad wenches, you have fimple wits.

[Exeunt King and Lords.


Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Mufcovites.

Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at?

Boyet Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. Rof. Well-liking wits they have, gross, gross, fat, fat.

Prin. O, poverty in wit, kingly poor


Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night ?
Or ever, but in vifors, fhow their faces?
This pert Biron was out of countʼnance 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 sword :
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, fickness as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.


But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Cath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumain is mine as fure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give car:
Immediately they will again be here

In their own fhapes; for it can never be,
They will digeft this harsh indignity.
Prin. Will they return?

Boyet. They will, they will, god knows;

And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows :
Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like fweet rofes in the fummer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? fpeak to be understood.
Boyet. Fair ladies mafk'd are roses in their bud:
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture fhown,
Are angels vailing clouds, or rofses blown.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! what shall we do,
If they return in their own fhapes to woo?

Rof. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Let's mock them ftill as well known as difguis'd,
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Difguis'd like Muscovites in fhapeless gear;
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their fhallow shows, and prologue vilely pen'd,
And their rough carriage fo ridiculous,

Should be prefented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw, the gallants are at hand.

Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er the land. [Exeunt.


Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their own habits: Boyet meeting them.

[ocr errors]

King. Fair fir, god fave you! where's the princess?

Vailing here is to be diftinguish'd from veiling, and carries the fame sense as in the phrafe vailing

a bonnet, that is, putting off, lowering, finking down.

T 2


« AnteriorContinuar »