No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor:
Tell him, the daughter of the king of France,
On serious business, craving quick despatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.
BOYET. Proud of employment, willingly I go.
[Exit.
PRIN. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? a
1 LORD. Longaville is one.
PRIN.
Know you the man?
MAR. I know him, madam; at a marriage feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville:
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms;
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss
(If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil),
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still
wills

;

It should none spare that come within his power. PRIN. Some merry mocking lord, belike: is't so? MAR. They say so most, that most his humours know.

PRIN. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.

Who are the rest?

KATH. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd

youth,

Of all that virtue love, for virtue lov'd:
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though he had no wit.
I saw him at the duke Alençon's once;
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report, to his great worthiness.

Ros. Another of these students at that time
Was there with him: ift I have heard a truth,
Biron they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)

(*) Folio, 1623, she. (†) Folio, 1623, as. athis virtuous duke?] The titles of king and duke were used indifferently both by Shakespeare and his contemporaries.

PRIN. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.

KING. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.

PRIN. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear, your grace hath sworn-out house-keeping:
'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it:

But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold;
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

[Gives a paper. KING. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. PRIN. You will the sooner, that I were away;

b Well fitted in the arts,-] The older copies omit the article, which was supplied in the second folio.

BIRON. Now fair befall your mask!
Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!
BIRON. And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.

BIRON. Nay, then will I be gone.

KING. Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one-half of an entire sum, Disbursed by my father in his wars.

But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,)
Receiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If then the king your father will restore
But that one-half which is unsatisfied,

We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid

An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.

a

Dear princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast,
And go well satisfied to France again.

PRIN. You do the king my father too much wrong,

And the reputation of your name,
wrong
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.
KING. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

PRIN.
We arrest your word:-
Boyet, you can produce acquittances,
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

KING.

Satisfy me so.

BOYET. So please your grace, the packet is not

come,

Where that and other specialties are bound;
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

KING. It shall suffice me: at which interview,
All liberal reason I will* yield unto.
Meantime, receive such welcome at my hand
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness:
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so denied fairt harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow we shall visit you again.

PRIN. Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!

KING. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exeunt KING and his train. BIRON. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.b

Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

BIRON. I Would you heard it
Ros. Is the fool sick?

BIRON. Sick at the heart.

(*) First folio, would I.

groan.

(t) First folio, farther.

a Depart withal,-] Depart, for part. "Which we would much rather part with."

b Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.] In the folio, 1623, this speech, and the speeches of Biron immediately following, are given to Boyet.

BOYET. She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.

LONG. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
BOYET. Her mother's, I have heard.
LONG. God's blessing on your beard!
BOYET. Good sir, be not offended:

She is an heir of Falconbridge.

LONG. Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady.

BOYET. Not unlike, sir; that may be. [Exit LONG.

BIRON. What's her name, in the cap? BOYET. Katharine, by good hap. BIRON. Is she wedded, or no? BOYET. To her will, sir, or so. BIRON. You are welcome, sir; adieu! BOYET. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. [Exit BIRON.-Ladies unmask. MAR. That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord; Not a word with him but a jest. BOYET. And every jest but a word. PRIN. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

BOYET. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.

MAR. Two hot sheeps, marry!

BOYET.

And wherefore not ships? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. MAR. You sheep, and I pasture: Shall that

finish the jest?

BOYET. So you grant pasture for me.

MAR.

[Offering to kiss her. Not so, gentle beast;

(*) First folio, if.

c No poynt,-] The same diminutive pun on the French negation, Non point, is repeated in Act V. Sc. 2:

"Dumain was at my service, and his sword;
No point, quoth I."

As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where* they
were glass'd,

Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent (1) did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
PRIN. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dis-
pos'd-

BOYET. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath disclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st

skilfully.

MAR. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.

BOYET. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

MAR. BOYET.

No.

What, then, do you see?

[Singing.

ARM. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years! take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love.

MOTH. Master,* will you win your love with a French brawl? (2)

ARM. How meanest thou? brawling in French? MOTH. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary" to it with your+ feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through

a Canary to it with your feet,-] The canary was a favourite dance, probably of Spanish origin, and supposed to derive its name from the Canary Islands, where it was much in vogue. The folio, 1623, reads, "With the feet."

b Your thin-belly doublet,-] Modern editors, except Capell,

the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat, penthouselike, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note, (do you note, men?) that most are affected to these.