An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, Which we much rather had depart withal, Dear princess, were not his requests so far PRIN. You do the king my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In fo unseeming to confefs receipt Of that which hath fo faithfully been paid. KING. I do protest, I never heard of it; And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back, Or yield up Aquitain. BOYET. So please your grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound; To-morrow you shall have a fight of them. KING. It shall suffice me: at which interview, Mean time, receivé fuch welcome at my hand, Though fo denied fair harbour in my houfe. Your own good thoughts excufe me, and farewell: you again. PRIN. Sweet health and fair defires confort your grace! KING. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exeunt KING and his Train. BIRON. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it. Ros. No poynt, with my knife. LONG. God's bleffing on your beard! She is an heir of Falconbridge. She is a most sweet lady. BOYET. Not unlike, fir; that may be. [Exit LONG. BIRON. What's her name, in the cap? BOYET. Katharine, by good hap. BIRON. Is the wedded, or no? BorET. To her will, fir, or fo. BIRON. You are welcome, fir; adieu! BOTET. Farewell to me, fir, and welcome to you. [Exit BIRON. Ladies unmask. MAR. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jeft. BOYET. And every jeft but a word. PRIN. It was well done of you, to take him at his word. BOYET. And wherefore not ships ? No sheep, fweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. MAR. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jeft? BOYET. So you grant pasture for me. MAR. Not fo, gentle beaft; [Offering to kiss her. My lips are no common, though feveral they be. BorET. Belonging to whom? MAR. To my fortunes and me. PRIN. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, agree: The civil war of wits were much better used On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused. BOYET. If my observation, (which very feldom lies,) By the heart's still rhetorick, difclofed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. PRIN. With what? BOYET. With that which we lovers intitle, affected. PRIN. Your reason? VOL. II. D BOYET. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire: His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, Proud with his form, in his eye pride expreffed: His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, Did ftumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be; All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair, To feel only looking on faireft of fair: Methought, all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye, As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ; Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glafs'd, Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. I only have made a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. hath Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skil fully. MAR. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. BOYET. Do you hear, my mad wenches? MAR. No. BOYET. What then, do you fee? BOYET. You are too hard for me. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. Another part of the fame. ARM. Warble, child; make paffionate my sense of hearing. MOTH. Concolinel [Singing. ARM. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the fwain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love. MOTH. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl? ARM. How mean'ft thou? brawling in French? MOTH. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; figh a note, and fing a note; fometime through the throat, as if you fwallowed love with finging love; fometime through the nose, as if you fnuff'd up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms cross'd on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a fnip and away: These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches—that would be betray'd without these; and make them men of note, (do you note, men?) that most are affected to these. ARM. How haft thou purchased this experience? ARM. But O,—but 0,— MоTн. —the hobby-horse is forgot. |