SCENE VIII.

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Boyet, and Attendants.

Biron. SEE,

EE, 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!

Prin. Fair in all hail is foul, as I conceive. King. Conftrue my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then with me better, I will give you leave. King. We come to vifit you, and purpose now

To lead you to our Court; vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me, and fo hold your

Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men.

King. Rebuke me not for That, which you provoke;

The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you fhould have spoke :

For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unfully'd lilly, I proteft,

A world of torments though I should endure,

I would not yield to be your house's guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heav'nly oaths, vow'd with integrity.

behaviour, what wert thou,

'Till this man fhewed thee? and what art thou now?] These are two wonderfully fine Lines, intimating that what Courts call Manners, and value themselves fo much upon Teaching, as a Thing no where elfe to be learnt, is a modest silent Accomplishment under the Direction of Nature and Common Senfe, which does its Office in promoting focial Life without being taken Notice of. But that when it degenerates into Shew and Parade it becomes an unmanly contemptible Quality.

King. O, you have liv'd in defolation here, Unfeen, unvifited, much to our shame. Prin. Not fo, my lord; it is not so, I swear; We have had paftimes here, and pleasant game. A mefs of Ruffians left us but of late.

King. How, Madam? Russians?

Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of ftate.

Rof. Madam, fpeak true. It is not so, my lord: My lady (to the manner of the days)

In courtesy gives undeserving praise.

We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Ruffian habit: here they staid an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not blefs us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirfty, fools would fain have drink.
Biron. This jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle, fweet,
Your wit makes wife things foolish; when we greet
With eyes beft feeing heaven's fiery eye,

By light we lofe light; your capacity

Is of that nature, as to your huge ftore

Wife things feem foolish, and rich things but poor. Rof. This proves you wife and rich; for in my

eye

Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Rof. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to fnatch words from my tongue. Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I poffefs. Rof. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you lefs.

Rof. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biryn. Where? when? what vifor? why demand you this?

Rof. There, then, that vifor, that fuperfluous Cafe, That hid the worse, and fhew'd the better face. King. We are defcried; they'll mock us now downright.

Dum.

Dum. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jest.

Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your Highness fad?

Rof. Help, hold his brows, he'll fwoon: why look you pale?

Sea-fick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for Perjury.

Can any face of brass hold longer out?

Here ftand I, lady, dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout, Thrust thy fharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit, And I will with thee never more to dance, Nor never more in Ruffian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches pen'd,

Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend,

Nor woo in rhime, like a blind harper's fong. Taffata-phrafes, filken terms precise,

Three pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation, Figures pedantical, these fummer-flies,

Have blown me full of maggot oftentation:

I do forfwear them; and I here proteft,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God knows!)

Henceforth my wooing mind fhall be expreft

In ruffet yeas, and honest kerfy noes:
And to begin, wench (fo God help me, law!)
My love to thee is found, fans crack or flaw.
Rof. Sans, fans, I pray you.

Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage: bear with me, I am fick.
I'll leave it by degrees: foft, let us fee;
Write, Lord have mercy on us, on thofe three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
Thefe lords are vifited, you are not free;

For

For the lord's tokens on you both I fee.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens

to us.

Biron. Our ftates are forfeit, seek not to undo us.
Rof. It is not fo; for how can this be true,
That you ftand forfeit, being those that fue?
Biron. Peace, for I will not have to do with you.
Rof. Nor fhall not, if I do as I intend.

Biron. Speak for yourfelves, my wit is at an end.
King. Teach us, fweet Madam, for our rude tranf-
greffion

Some fair excufe.

Prin. The fairest is confeffion.

Were you not here, but even now, difguis'd?

King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advis'd?

King. I was, fair Madam.

Prin. When you then were here,

What did you whisper in your lady's ear?

King. That more than all the world I did refpect

her.

Prin. When fhe fhall challenge this, you will reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin. Peace, peace, forbear:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear.
King. Defpife me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will, and therefore keep it. Rofaline,
What did the Ruffian whisper in your ear?
Rof. Madam, he fwore, that he did hold me dear
As precious eye-fight; and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or elfe die my lover.
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Moft honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my
troth,

I never swore this lady fuch an oath.

Rof.

Rof. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, to th' Princess I did give; II knew her by this jewel on her fleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she wear:
And lord Biron, I thank him, is my Dear.
What? will you have me; or your pearl again?
Biron. Neither of either: I remit both twain.
I fee the trick on't; here was a confent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dash it, like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, fome please-man, fome flight zany,
Some mumble-news, fome trencher knight, some
Dick,

*

That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when she's difpos'd,
Told our intents before; which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change Favours, and then we,
Following the figns, woo'd but the fign of she:
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forfworn; in will, and error.
Much upon this it is.-And might not You [To Boyet.
Foreftal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by th' fquier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye,
And ftand between her back, Sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jefting merrily?

You put our Page out: go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a fmock fhall be your fhrowd.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden fword.

*

Boyet. Full merrily

Hath this brave Manage, this Career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting ftrait. Peace, I have done. --fmiles his cheek in years,- --] Mr. Theobald says, he cannot, for his Heart, comprehend the Senfe of this Phrafe. It was not his Heart but his Head that stood in his Way. In Years, fignifies, into Wrin So in The Merchant of Venice,

kles.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

VOL. II.

Enter