Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse 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 fee it.

BIRON. I would, you heard it groan.
Ros. Is the fool fick ?

BIRON. Sick at the heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

BIRON. Would that do it good?

Ros. My physick says, I.

BIRON. Will you prick't with your eye ?

Ros. No poynt, with my knife.

BIRON. Now, God save thy life !
Ros. And yours from long living!

BIRON. I cannot stay thanksgiving.

[Retiring.

Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is that same? 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 she in the white?
Boret. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
LONG. Perchance, light in the light: I defire her name.
BOYET. She hath but one for herself; to defire that,
[were a shame.

LONG. Pray you, fir, whose daughter?
BOYET. Her mother's, I have heard.
LONG. God's blessing 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.

BIRON. What's her name, in the cap?
BOYET. Katharine, by good hap.

BIRON. Is she wedded, or no?

BOYET. To her will, fir, or fo.

BIRON. You are welcome, fir; adieu!

[Exit LONG.

BOYET. 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 jest but a word.

PRIN. It was well done of you, to take him at his word. Boret. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board. MAR. Too hot sheeps, marry !

BOYET. And wherefore not ships ?

No fheep, fweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
MAR. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jest?
BOYET. So you grant pafture for me.

MAR. Not so, gentle beast;

[Offering to kiss her.

My lips are no common, though several they be.
BOYET. 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, disclosed with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

PRIN. With what?

BOYET. With that which we lovers intitle, affected. PRIN. Your reafon ?

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 expressed : His tongue, all impatient to speak and not fee, Did stumble with haste in his eye-fight to be; All senses to that sense did make their repair, To feel only looking on fairest of fair : Methought, all his senses 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 such 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 dispos'd-
BOYET. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath

disclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

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 see?
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 MМотн.

ARM. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of

hearing.

Мотн. Сoncolinel

[Singing.

ARM. Sweet air! _ Go, tenderness of years; take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love.

Мотн. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?

ARM. How mean'st thou ? brawling in French? Мотн. 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; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with finging love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuff'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 snip 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?
Мотн. Ву my penny of observation.
ARM. But O, but 0,-

Мотн. -the hobby-horse is forgot,

ARM. Call'st thou my love, hobby-horse?

Мотн. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

ARM. Almost I had.

Мотн. Negligent student! learn her by heart.

ARM. By heart, and in heart, boy.

Мотн. And out of heart, master: all those three I will

prove.

ARM. What wilt thou prove?

Мотн. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her. ARM. I am all these three.

Мотн. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.

ARM. Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter. Мотн. A message well sympathised; a horse to be embassador for an afs!

ARM. Ha, ha! what sayest thou ?

Мотн. Marry, fir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very flow-gaited: But I go.

ARM. The way is but short; away.
МоTH. As fwift as lead, fir.

ARM. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ?

Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and flow ?

Мотн. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no. ARM. I fay, lead is flow.

МотH. You are too fwift, fir, to say so:

Is that lead flow which is fir'd from a gun?
ARM. Sweet smoke of rhetorick!