As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. Kath. What, was your vifor made without a tongue? Long. I know the reafon, lady, why you ask. Kath. O, for your reafon ! quickly, Sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechlefs vizor half. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ;-Is not veal a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady? Kath. No, a fair lord calf. Long. Let's part the word. Kath. 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 fharp mocks ! Will you give horns, chafte lady? do not fo. Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Cutting a smaller hair than may be feen; Above the fenfe of fenfe: fo fenfible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Are these the breed of wits fo wondred at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your fweet breaths puff'd 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 countenance quite. Rof. O! they were all in lamentable cafes! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all fuit. h Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his fword: Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin. Go, fickness as thou art! i Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps. But will you hear? the king is my love fworn. Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree. Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear; 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; kingly-poor flout !]-fupremely poor jefting. out of all fuit.]-till he had nothing to say. i have worn plain ftatute-caps.]-woollen-might be found in the city, among their inferiors. Therefore, Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, Prin. How blow? how blow? fpeak to be understood. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? k Rof. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, 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 Ladies. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain in their own habits. King. Fair Sir, God fave you! Where's the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her? King. That the vouchfafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and fo will she, I know, my lord. [Exit. Biron. This fellow picks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when Jove doth please: jare angels vailing clouds,]-cafting them beneath their feet, in order to display their brightness-veil'd in clouds-rendered visible to mortals, by affuming the veil, or cover of a cloud; fpirits being, as our author elsewhere elegantly terms them, "fightless fubftances," till fo clothed or embodied. k fhapeless gear ;]-uncouth dreffes. He He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares At wakes, and 'waffels, meetings, markets, fairs; m A mean most meanly; and, in ufhering, Mend him who can: the ladies call him, fweet; King. A blifter on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part? Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, and attendants. Biron. See, where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou, 'Till this man fhew'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, fweet madam, and fair time of day! 1 waffels,]-merry bouts. m mean]-tenor part. the flower that fmiles on every one,]-the pink of courtesy. • whale his bone. The Saxon genitive cafe ufed here; and again, "Swifter than the moones fphere." MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A& II, S. 1. Fai. Behaviour,]-Courtly parade, or addrefs, what a strange bufinefs wert thou, and art thou still? King. We came to vifit you; and purpose now To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke; For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. A world of torments though I should endure, So much I hate a breaking caufe to be Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Rof. Madam, fpeak true :-It is not fo, my lord; My lady, ( to the manner of these days) In courtesy gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted were with four a virtue]-luftre, efficacy. A mes]-A band. to the manner of thefe days) &c.]-as 'tis the fashion of these times, lavishes her commendation indifcriminately. |