Long. A calf, fair lady? Kath. Long. Let's part the word. Kath. No, a fair lord calf. 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 so. Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you [They converse apart. cry. 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. Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! 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! * Well-liking wits-] Well-liking is the same as embonpoint. 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. Qualin, perhaps. Go, sickness as thou art! Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.* But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. In their own shapes; for it can never be, 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. No point, quoth I;] Point in French is an adverb of negation; but, if properly spoken, is not sounded like the point of a sword. A quibble, however, is intended. better wits have worn plain statute-caps.] Dr. Johnson thinks this is an allusion to the statute-cap of the universities. Mr. Steevens, that it means better wits may be fourd among the citizens, who wore a kind of woollen-cap by statute. 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, If they return in their own shapes to woo? 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 habits. 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: 5 Are angels vailing clouds,] i. e. letting those clouds which obscured their brightness, sink from before them. JOHNSON. He is wit's pedler; and retails his wares At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs; King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! Enter the Princess, usher'd 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. wassels,] Wassels were meetings of rustic mirth and in"A mean] The mean, in musick, is the tenor. temperance. 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. A world of torments though I should endure, 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 My lady (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.] To the manner of the days, means according to the manner of the times.-Gives undeserving praise, means praise to what does not deserve it. |