King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.

Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. King, Prize you yourselves; What buys your company?

Ros.

King.

Your absence only.

That can never be. Pes. Then cannot we be bought and so adieu; Twice to your visor, and half once to you! Kiag. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. Ras. In private then. King

I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice,)

Metheglin, wort, and malmsey ; — Well, run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets.

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.

[They converse apart. Kath. What, was your visor made without a tongue?

Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kath. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,

And would afford my speechless visor half.

King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

[Exeunt KING, Lords, MoтH, Musick, and Attendants.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at '

Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.

Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to night? Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Birón was out of countenance quite. Ros. O they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Birón did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And trow you, what he call'd me?

Prin.

Kath. Yes, in good faith. Prin.

Qualm, perhaps.

Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statutecaps.

But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
Prin. And quick Birón hath plighted faith to me.
Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here

In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.
Prin. Will they return?

Boyet.

They will, they will, God knows, And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be under

stood.

Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,

a calf?

Long. A calf, fair lady? Kath.

No, a fair lord calf. Lang. Let's part the word. Kath. No, I'll not be your half: Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. Lang. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.

Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart.

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

As is the razor's edge invisible, 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.

Res. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff:

Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; And wonder, what they were; and to what end Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt PRINCESS, Ros. KATH. and MARIA. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habis.

King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess?

Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty, Command me any service to her thither?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.

[Exit.

Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when God doth please:

He is wit's pedler; and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he,
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy ;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whales bone:
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,

That put Armado's page out of his part!
Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE,
MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.

Biron. See where it comes! - Behaviour, what wert thou,

Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose now

To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your

VOW:

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 should have spoke;

For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, 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 heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here,

Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. Prin. Not so, my lord, it is not so, I swear; We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. King. How, madam? Russians?

Prin.

Ay, in truth, my lord; Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. Ros. Madam, speak true: — It is not so my lord; My lady (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit; here they staid an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Biron. This jest is dry to me.-Fair, gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light: Your capacity Is of that nature, that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.

Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my

eye,

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

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

Biron.

I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you this?

Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downright.

Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?

Kos. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon? Why look you pale?

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for per

jury.

Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,

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

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : I do forswear them: and I here protest,

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

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin, wench, - -so God help me, la!.
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros. Sans SANS, I pray you.
Biron.

Yet I have a trick bear with me, I am sick; I'll leave it by degress. Soft, let us see; Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three ; They are infected, in their hearts it lies; They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These lords are visited; you are not free, For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

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

to us.

Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo u Ros. It is not so; For how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an en King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rud transgression Some fair excuse. Prin.

The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even now, disguis’d? King. Madam, I was.

Prin.

And were you well advis'd King. I was, fair madam.

Pria.

When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Pria. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin.

Peace, peace, forbear; Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. Pria. I will: and therefore keep it :- Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ra Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eye-sight; and did value me Above this world: adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover. Pria. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word.

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

I never swore this lady such an oath.

Rat. By heaven you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Pria. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear : What; will you have me, or your pearl again? Biren. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on't;- Here was a consent, (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy: Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,

That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd, -
Told cur intents before: which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn: in will, and error.
Much upon this it is: - And might not you,
[TO BOYET.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,
And langh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shrowd.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Bayet.
Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Broa. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have

done.

Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

some care.

Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit COSTARD. King. Biron, they will shame us, let them not approach.

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy

To have one show worse than the king's and his company.

King. I say, they shall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you

now:

That sport best pleases, that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter ARMADO.

Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expence of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the school master is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain; But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couple[Exit ARMADO.

ment !

King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Ma

chabæus.

And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other

five.

Biron. There is five in the first show.

King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so.

Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedgepriest, the fool and the boy:

Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world again,

Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his

vein.

King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

[Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c.

Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,
Dum. The great.

Cost. It is great, sir ;-Pompey surnam’d the great ; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:

And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance;

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.

If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I had done.

Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great.

Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:

My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender

Cost. O, sir, [to NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close stool, will be given to A-jax he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man ; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ; ;-a little o'erparted: - But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES, arm'd, for Judas, and MOTH arm'd, for Hercules.

Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill' d Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minority; Ergo, I come with this apology. Keep some state in thy erit, and vanish. [Exit MoTH. Hol. Judas, I am, -

Hol. Judas, I am, —

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol. What mean you,
sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder.

Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Biron. Because thou hast no face.
Hol. What is this?
Boyet. A cittern head.

Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Biron. A death's face in a ring.

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.
Biron. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch.
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer: And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun

tenance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False: we have given thee faces.

Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him : — Jud-as, away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle; not humble. Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble.

Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been baited!

Enter ARMADO, arm'd, for Hector.

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Boyet. But is this Hector?

Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timbered. Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

Dum. More calf, certain.

Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty Gave Hector a gift,

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven,

Arm. Peace!