Ros. This proves you wife and rich; for in my eye,—— BIRON. I am a fool, and full of poverty. Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, BIRON. O, I am yours, and all that I poffefs. BIRON. I cannot give you lefs. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? this? you Ros. There, then, that vifor; that fuperfluous cafe, That hid the worfe, and fhow'd the better face. KING. We are defcried: they'll mock us now downright, DUM. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jeft. [fad? PRIN. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness Ros. Help, hold his brows! he'll fwoon! Why look Sea-fick, I think, coming from Mufcovy. [you pale ?— BIRON. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brafs hold longer out?— Here ftand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit ; And I will with thee never more to dance, O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's fong: Taffata phrafes, filken terms precife, Three-pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these fummer-flies Have blown me full of maggot oftentation: I do forfwear them: and I here protest, [knows! By this white glove, (how white the hand, God Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd In ruffet yeas, and honest kersey noes: And, to begin, wench,-fo God help me, la ! · BIRON. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage :-bear with me, I am fick; For the Lord's tokens on you do I fee. PRIN. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. · BIRON. Our flates are forfeit, feek not to undo us. BIRON. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. Some fair excufe. PRIN. The faireft is confeflion. Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd? KING. Madam, I was. PRIN. And were you well advis'd? KING. I was, fair madam. PRIN. When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? [fion KING. That more than all the world I did refpect her. PRIN. When she fhall challenge this, you will reject her, KING. Upon mine honour, no. PRIN. Peace, peace, forbear; Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear. Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear KING. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, I never fwore this lady fuch an oath. Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, fir, again. KING. My faith, and this, the princefs I did give; PRIN. Pardon, me, fir, this jewel did she wear; Some carry-tale, fome please-man, some flight zany, We are again forfworn; in will and error. 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. COST. O Lord, fir, they would know, Whether the three worthies fhall come in, or no. BIRON. What, are there but three? Cost. No, fir; but it is vara fine, For every one pursents three. BIRON. And three times thrice is nine. [not fo: COST. Not fo, fir; under correction, fir; I hope, it is You cannot beg us, fir, I can affure what we know: I hope, fir, three times thrice, fir,→ BIRON. Is not nine. you, fir; we know COST. Under correction, fir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. BIRON. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. COST. O Lord, fir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, fir. BIRON. How much is it? COST. O Lord, fir, the parties themselves, the actors, fir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they fay, but to parfect one man,—e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, fir. BIRON. Art thou one of the worthies? COST. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy; but I am to stand for him. BIRON. Go, bid them prepare. COST. We will turn it finely off, fir; we will take fome care. [Exit COSTARD. KING. Birón, they will fhame us, let them not ap proach. [policy BIRON. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis fome To have one show worse than the king's and his company. KING. I fay, they shall not come. PRIN. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how Where zeal ftrives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them which it prefents, Their form confounded makes most form in mirth ; When great things labouring perish in their birth. BIRON. A right defcription of our fport, my lord. Enter ARMADO. ARM. Anointed, I implore fo much expence of thy royal fweet breath as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers him a paper. PRIN. Doth this man ferve God? BIRON. Why ask you? PRIN. He speaks not like a man of God's making. ARM. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch : for, I proteft, the school-master is exceeding fantastical ; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they |