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 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 be long, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. 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? Ros. 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; Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 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, God 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!— Yet I have a trick Biron. They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These lords are visited; you are not free, 'Three-pil'd hyperboles,] A metaphor from the pile of velvet. 2 Write, Lord have mercy on us,] This was the inscription put upon the door of the houses infected with the plague, to which Biron compares the love of himself and his companions; and pursuing the metaphor finds the tokens likewise on the ladies. The tokens of the plague are the first spots or discolorations, by which the infection is known to be received. JOHNSON. Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. 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 end. King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse. Prin. The fairest is confession. Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd? King. Madam, I was. Prin. King. I was, fair madam. And were you well advis'd? When you then were here, Prin. King. That more than all the world I did respect her. Prin. 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.3 King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. Prin. I will; and therefore keep it :—Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear? Ros. 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. 3 you force not to forswear.] You force not is the same with you make no difficulty. This is a very just observation. The crime which has been once committed, is committed again with less reluctance. JOHNSON. Prin. 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. Ros. 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. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear:dear:What; will you have me, or your pearl again ? Biron. 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,' That smiles his cheek in years;" and knows the trick [To BOYET. Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue? 5 7 a consent,] i. e. a conspiracy. zany,] A zany is a buffoon, a merry Andrew. 6 his cheek in years;] In years, signifies, into wrinkles. by the squire,] From esquierre, French, a rule, or square. You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd; Boyet. Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have done. Enter COSTARD. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no. Cost. No, sir; but it is vara fine, And three times thrice is nine. For every one pursents three. Biron. Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope, it is not so: You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know: I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,— Is not nine. Biron. Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir. Biron. How much is it? Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect * Go, you are allow'd;] i. e. you may say what you will. 9 You cannot beg us,] That is, we are not fools, or lunaticks; our next relations cannot beg the wardship of our persons and for tunes. |