There's no fuch fport, as sport by sport o'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
So fhall we stay, mocking intended game;
And they, well mock'd, depart away with fhame.

[Trumpets found within,

Boy. The trumpet founds; be mafk'd, the mafkers [The Ladies mafk.

come.

Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Ruffian habits, and mafked; MOTH, Muficians, and Attendants.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
Boy. Beauties no richer than rich taffata.
Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames,

[The Ladies turn their backs to him. That ever turn'd their-backs-to mortal views. Bir. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

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

Boy. True, out, indeed.

Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly Spirits, vouchsafe

Not to behold

Bir. Once to behold, rogue.

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

Boy. 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.
Bir. Is this your perfectnefs? 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.

Boy.

Boy. What would you with the princess?
Bir. Nothing but peace, and gentle vifitation.
Rof. What would they, fay they?

Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle vifitation. Rof. Why, that they have; and bid them fo be gone. Boy. 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 this grafs.

Boy. They fay that they have meafur'd many a mile, To tread a measure with you on this grafs.

Rof. It is not fo: afk them, how many inches
Is in one mile if they have meafur'd many,
The measure then of one is eafily told.

Boy. If, to come hither you have measur'd miles,
And many miles; the princefs bids
tell,
How many inches do fill up one mile.

you

Bir. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boy. 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?

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

That we may do it ftill without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhew the funfhine of your face,
That we, like favages, may worship it.

Rof. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King. Bleffed are clouds, that do as fuch clouds do!
Vouchfafe, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to fhine
(Thofe clouds remov'd) upon our wat'ry eyne.
Rof. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
Thou now request'ft but moon-fhine in the water.
King. Then in our meafure do but vouchfafe one change:
Thou bidd'st me beg: this begging is not strange.

Rof.

Rof. Play, mufic, then: nay you must do it foon. [Mufic plays. 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 he'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 vouchfafe it.

King. But your legs fhould do it.

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

Rof. Only to part friends:

Court'fy, fweet hearts; and fo the measure ends.
King. More measure of this meafure; be not nice,
Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.
King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your com-
Rof. Your abfence only.
[pany?

King. That can never be.

Rof. Then cannot we be bought: and fo adieu; Twice to your vifor, 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.

[They converfe apart. Bir. White-handed mistress, one fweet word with

thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. Bir. Nay then, two treys (an if you grow fo nice), Metheglin, wort, and malmfey;-Well run, dice! There's half a dozen fweets.

Prin. Seventh sweet, adicu!

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

Bir. One word in fecret.

Prin. Let it not be sweet.

Bir. Thou griev❜st my gall.

Prin. Gall? bitter.

Bir. Therefore meet.

Dum. Will

[They converfe apart.

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.

[They converfe apart. Cath. What, was your vifor made without a tongue? Long. I know the reafon, lady, why you afk. Cath. O, for your reafon! quickly, fir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my fpeechlefs vifor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutchinan; 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 thefe fharp Will you give horns, chafte lady? do not fo. [mocks! 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. [They converfe apart. Boy. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invifible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be feen;
Above the fense of sense: fo fenfible

Seemeth

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.

Bir. By heaven, all dry-beatan with pure fcoff! King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have simple wits. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Mufcovites.

[Exeunt King, and Lords, Are these the breed of wits fo wonder'd at? Boy. Tapers they are, with your sweet 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 fwear himself out of all fuit. Mar. Dumain was at my fervice, and his sword: No point, quoth I; my fervant straight 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, sickness 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 plighted faith to me. Cath. And Longaville was for my fervice born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as fure as bark on tree. Boy. Madam, and pretty miftreffes, give ear: Immediately they will again be here