An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain ;

Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain fo gelded as it is.

Dear princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast,
And go well fatisfied to France again.

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,
All liberal reason I will yield unto.

Mean time, receivé fuch welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness :
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you fhall be fo receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,

Though fo denied fair harbour in my houfe.

Your own good thoughts excufe me, and farewell:
To-morrow shall we vifit

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.
BIRON. Now, God fave thy life!
Ros. And yours from long living!
BIRON. I cannot ftay thanksgiving.
[Retiring.
DUM. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is that fame?
BOYET. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name.
DUM. A gallant lady! Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit.
LONG. I beseech you, a word; What is the in the white?
BOYET. Awoman fometimes, an you faw her in the light.
LONG. Perchance, light in the light: I defire her name.
BOYET. She hath but one for herself; to defire that,
LONG. Pray you, fir, whofe daughter? [were a shame.
BOYET. Her mother's, I have heard.

LONG. God's bleffing on your beard!
BOYET. Good fir, be not offended:

She is an heir of Falconbridge.
LONG. Nay, my choler is ended.

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. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
MAR. Too hot sheeps, marry
!

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.
His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes,
That all eyes faw his eyes enchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.
PRIN. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is difpos'd-
Borer. But to speak that in words, which his eye
difclos'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?
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.

BOYET. You are too hard for me.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Another part of the fame.
Enter ARMADO and MOTH.

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?
MOTH. By my penny of obfervation.

ARM. But O,—but 0,—

MоTн. —the hobby-horse is forgot.