Bir. O!—And I, forfooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip. A very beadle to a humorous figh; Of trotting paritors, O my little heart!— And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue, and groan; ACT ACT IV. SCENE I. A Pavilion in the Park near the Polace. Enter the Princefs, ROSALINE, MARIA, CATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, Attendants, and a Forefter. Princess. WAS that the king, that fpurr'd his horse fo hard Boy. I know not; but, I think, it was not he. Then, forefter, my friend, where is the bush, Prin. Nay, never paint me now; Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. O herely O herefy in fair, fit for these days! A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise.- my fkill, When, for fame's fake, for praife, an outward part, The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford To any lady that fubdues a lord. Enter COSTARD. Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth. Cof. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady? Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the reft that have no heads. Cofl. Which is the greateft lady, the highest? Coft. The thickest and the tallest! it is fo; truth is truth. An your waist, miftrefs, were as flender as my wit, One of thefe maids' girdles for your waift fhould be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here. Prin. What's your will, fir? what's your will? Cof. I have a letter from monfieur Biron, to one lady Rofaline. Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine: Stand afide, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon. Boy. I am bound to serve. This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; Prin. We will read it, I fwear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boy. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiferation on thy heroical vaffal! The magnanimous and most illuftrate king Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and be it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O bafe and obfcure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, far, and overcame he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king; Why did he come? to fee; Why did he fee? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What faw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar: The conclufion is victory; On whofe fide? the king's: the captive is enrich'd; On whofe fide? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a nuptial; On whose fide? the king's ?-no; on both in one, or one in both, I am the king; for fo ftands the comparison: thou the beggar; for fo witneffeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; For tittles? tiles; For thyself? me. Thus, Thus, expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that ftandest as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play: But if thou ftrive, poor foul, what art thou then? Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter? What vane? what weather-cock? Did you ever hear better? Boy. I am much deceived, but I remember the stile. Prin. Elfe your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile. Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; A phantafm, a Monarcho; and one that makes sport To the prince, and his book-mates. Prin. Thou, fellow, a word: Who gave thee this letter? Coft. I told you, my lord. Prin. To whom should'st thou give it? Coft. From my lord to my lady, Prin. From which lord, to which lady? Coft. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, To a lady of France, that he call'd Rofaline. Prin. Thou haft mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. Here, fweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day. [Exeunt Princefs, and Train. D Boy. |