Enter the King, Biron, Longueville, Dumain, and attendants, difguis'd like Mufcovites; Moth with Mufick, as for a mafquerade.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth! Boyet. Beauties, no richer than rich taffata 2. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames,

[The ladies turn their backs to him.

That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views.
Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

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

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 fun-beamed eyes With your fun-beamed eyes

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

2

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me

out.

Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue. Rof. What would thefe ftrangers? know their

minds, Boyet.

Beauties, no richer than rich Taffata.] i. e. The Taffata Mafks they wore to conceal Themfelves. All the Editors concur to give this Line to Biron; but, furely, very abfurdly for he's One of the zealous Admirers, and hardly would make fuch an Inference. Boyet is fneering at the Parade of VOL. II.

their Addrefs, is in the fecret of the Ladies' Stratagem, and makes himself Sport at the Abfurdity of their Proem, in complimenting their Beauty, when they were mafk'd. It therefore comes from him with the utmost Propriety.

THEOBALD.

If

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

Boyet. What would you with the Princefs?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rof. What would they, fay they?

Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation. Rof. Why,That they have; and bid them so be gone, Boyet. She fays, you have it; and you may be gone. King. Say to her, we have measur❜d many miles, To tread a meafure with her on the grass.

Boyet. 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 easily told.

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

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. 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?

Biron. 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, to do as fuch clouds do.
Vouchfafè, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to fhine
(Thofe clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.

*

Rof. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now requeft'ft but moon-fhine in the water. he, to judge of stars in the prefence of the fun.

When Queen Elizabeth afked an ambaffadour how he liked her Ladies, It is hard, faid 4

King.

King. Then in our meafure vouchfafe but one change;

Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not strange.

Rof. Play, mufick, then; nay, you must do it

foon.

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 she's chang'd.

King. Yet ftill fhe is the moon, and I the man. The mufick plays, vouchsafe fome motion to it. Rof. Our cars vouchfafe it.

King. But your legs fhould do it.

Rof. Since you are ftrangers, and come here by
chance,

We'll not be nice; take hands;-we will not dance.
King. Why take you hands then?

Rof. Only to part friends;

Curt'fy, fweet hearts, and fo the measure ends.
King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Rof. We can afford no more at fuch a price.
King. Prize yourselves then; what buys your com-
pany?

Rof. Your abfence only.

King. That can never be.

Rof. Then cannot we be bought; and so, adieu; Twice to your visor, 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,

Biron. White-handed miftrefs, one fweet word with

thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and fugar, there is three.
Biron. Nay then, two treys; and if you grow fo

nice,

Methegline, wort, and malmfey;-well run, dice:
There's half a dozen fweets.

J

Prin. Seventh fweet, adieu;

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

Dum. Will you vouchfafe 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.

Cath. What, was your vifór made without a tongue ?

Long. I know the reafon, lady, why you

afk. Cath. O, for your reafon! quickly, Sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless vizor half.

Cath. Veal, quoth the Dutch man; 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 these sharp mocks !

Will you give horns, chafte 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 foftly 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 feen:
Above the sense of sense, so fenfible

To cogg fignifies to falfify the dice, and to falfify a narrative, or to lye.

See meth

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.

Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure fcoff.-King. Farewel, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt King and Lords.

SCENE VI.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are thefe the Breed of wits fo wondred at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your fweet breaths puft

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 count'nance 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 service, and his fword:
No, point, quoth I; my fervant ftrait was mute.
Cath. Lord Longueville 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, fick nefs as thou art!

Rof. Well, better wits have worn plain ftatutecaps 3.

3 Better wits have worn plain ftatute-caps.] This line is not univerfally understood, becaufe every reader does not know

But

that a ftatute-cap is part of the academical habit. Lady Rofaline declares that her expectation was disappointed by thefe

O 3

courtly