Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon. King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's changed. King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. King. But your legs should do it. Ros. Since you are strangers and come here by chance, We'll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance. King. Why take we hands, then? Ros. Only to part friends: 220 Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your company? Ros. Your absence only. King. That can never be. Ros. 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. Ros. In private, then. King. I am best pleased with that. Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is 230 three. 219. nice, coy. Biron. Nay, then, two treys, and if you grow so nice, Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice! Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu : Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. [They converse apart. Kath. What, was your vizard made without a tongue? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. Kath. O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless vizard half. 'veal'a calf? Long. A calf, fair lady! 232. treys, threes (at cards). 233. wort, unfermented beer. 235. cog, deceive. 247. veal; mimicking a Ger No, a fair lord calf. 246 man pronunciation of the English 'well' (vel), which differed little from the Elizabethan pronunciation of veal. Long. Let's part the word. Kath. 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 grow. Long. One word in private with you, ere I die. Kath. Bleat softly then: the butcher hears [They converse apart. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen you cry. 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. Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors. 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! 250 260 269. kingly-poor flout, a royal jest, i.e. one that has only its royal origin to commend it. Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight? Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces? This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. Prin. Biron 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 And trow you what he call'd me? Qualm, perhaps. Go, sickness as thou art! Kath. Yes, in good faith. Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain sta tute-caps. But will you hear? the king is my love sworn, to me. Kath. And Longaville was for my service born. Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes; for it can never be They will digest this harsh indignity. Prin. Will they return? Boyet. They will, they will, God knows, Therefore change favours; and, when they repair, 277. no point; a play on the French negative. 279. qualm; with a play on calm, as in 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 40. 270 280 290 281. statute - caps, woollen caps prescribed by law in 1571 to be worn by the citizens of London on holidays. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be 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 advised, 300 Let's mock them still, as well known as disguised: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguised 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. hand. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land. [Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria. Re-enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and King. Fair sir, God save you! Where's the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent. majesty 310 Please it your 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. 297. vailing, letting fall. [Exit. |