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Hold, take you this, my sweet, and give me thine;
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline,
And change your Favours too; so shall your Loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.

Ros. Come on then, wear the Favours most in fight.
Cath. But in this changing, what is your intent?

Prin. Th' effect of my intent is to cross theirs; They do it but in mocking merriment, And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several councils they unbosom shall To loves miftook, and fo be mockt withal, Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display'd, to talk and greet.

Rof. But shall we dance, if they defire us to't?

Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot; Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace : But while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the Speaker's

heart, And quite divorce his memory from his Part.

Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt, The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out. There's no such Sport, as Sport by Sport o'erthrown, To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; So shall we stay, mocking intended game; And they, well mockt, depart away with fhame. (Sound.

Boyet. The trumpet sounds; bé maskt, the maskers



S CE N E Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and

Attendants, disguis'd like Muscovites ; Moth with Music,

as for a masquerade. Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth !

Boyet. Beauties, no richer than rich iaffata. Moth. A holy parcel of the faireft dames, That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views. [The ladies turn their backs to him.


Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views.

Biron. True ; out, indeed.
Moth. Out of your favours, heav'nly Spirits, vouchsafe
Not to behold.

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

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

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet;
You were belt call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me
Biron. Is this your perfectness ? begone, you rogue.
Rof. What would these strangers ? know their

minds, Boyet.
If they do speak our language, 'tis our Will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know, what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the Princess ?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle visitation.
Rof. What would they, say they ?
Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle visitation.
Rós.Why, That they have; and bid them so be gone. .
Boyet. She says, you have it; and you may be gone.

King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on the grass.
Boyet. They say, that they have measur’d many a

To tread a measure with you on this grass.

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

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

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet. She hears herself.


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Ro. How many weary steps
Oi many weary miles, you have o'ergone,
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you;
Our duty is so rich, fo infinite,
That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sun-fhine of your face,
That we (like savages) may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.

King, Blefled are clouds, to do as such 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'st but moon-fhine in the water. King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one

change; Thou bid'it me beg, this begging is not strange.

Rof. Play, music, then; nay, you must do it soon. Not yet? no dance? thus change I, like the moon. King. Will


not dance? how come you thus
Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's

King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
- The music plays, vouchsafe some motion to it.

Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.
King. But your legs should do it.

Rof. Since you are strangers,andcome here by chance,
We'll not be nice; take hands ;-we will not dance.

King. Why take you hands then !

Roj. Only to part friends ;
Curt'fy sweet hearts, and so the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize yourselves then; what buys your com-

Rof. Your absence only.
King. That can never be.



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Ros. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu ; Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

Kong. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Rof. In private then.
King. I am best pleas'd with That.
Biron. White-handed miltrels, one sweet word with

thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar, there is three. Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow so

nice, Methegline, wort, and malmsey ;

-well run, dice : There's half a dozen sweets.

Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu; Since

you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Biron. One word in secret, Prin. Let it not be sweet. Biron. Thou griev'st my gall. Prin. Gall? bitterBiron. Therefore meet. Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a

word ? Mar. Name it. Dum. Fair lady,

Mar. Say you so? fair lord :
Take that for your fair lady.

Dum. Please it you;
As much in private; and I'll bid adieu.

Cath. What, was your visor made without atongue?
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Cath. O, for your reason! quickly, Sir; I long.

Long. You have a doubletongue within your malk, And would afford my speechless visor half.

Caih. Veal, quoth the Dutch man; is not veal 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 these sharp

mocks! Will you give horns, chaste 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 softly then, the butcher hears you cry. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

As is the razor's edge, invincible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen:

Above the sense of sense, so sensible Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings; Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter

things. Rof. Not one word more, my maids; break off,

break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff.King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

[Exeunt King and Lords.


Prin. WENTY adieus, my frozen Muscovites.

Are these the Breed of wits so wondred at? Boyet. Tapers they are with your sweet breaths pust

out. Ros. Well-liking wits they have ; gross, 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, shew their faces ? This

pert Biron was out of count'nance quite. Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Prin. Biron did fwear himself out of all suit.

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No, point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

Cath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And, trow you, what he calld me ?

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