Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, in Russian habits, and masked; MOTH, Musicians, and Attendants.

Moth. "All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!" Biron. Beauties no richer than rich taffata3.

Moth. "A holy parcel of the fairest dames,

[The Ladies turn their backs to him. That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views!" Biron. "Their eyes," villain, "their eyes." Moth. "That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! Out-"

Boyet. True; "out,” indeed.

Moth. "Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe

Not to behold"

Biron. "Once to behold," rogue.

Moth. "Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, -with your sun-beamed eyes'

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet; You were best call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out. Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue. Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet.

If they do speak our language, 'tis our will

That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the princess?
Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. What would they, say they?

1

in Russian habits,] Boyet has previously told us that the king and his lords were to enter "like Muscovites or Russians:" the old stage-direction is, "Enter Black-moors with music, the boy with a speech, and the rest of the lords disguised.” Hence it appears that Black-moors with music preceded the lords in order to introduce the maskers.

8 Beauties no richer than rich taffata.] This line, the folios and quarto give to Biron; not to Boyet, as in all the modern editions. There is no sufficient reason for depriving him of it.

Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.
King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
with her on this grass.

To tread a measure Boyet. They say, mile,

that they have measur'd many a

To tread a measure with

you on this grass.

Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inches Is in one mile? if they have measur'd many,

The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If, to come hither you have measur'd miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell,

How many inches do fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. She hears herself.

Ros.

How many weary steps,

Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,

Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you:

Our duty is so rich, so infinite,

That we may do it still without accompt.

Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,

That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine (Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyne.

Ros. O, vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change'.

9 To tread a MEASURE.] A

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measure was a slow solemn dance.

1 Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.] Thus the 4to. 1598, which, at all events, is more musical than the line in the folio:

"Then in our measure vouchsafe but one change."

The word "do" in the 4to. is syllabically superfluous, but an additional emphasis is thereby given to the passage, which may have been the reason for its

insertion.

Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. Ros. Play, music, then! nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays. 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 it2. 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.— Court'sy, 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?

pany?

Ros. Your absence only.

King.

What buys your com

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 pleas'd with that. [They converse apart.

Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with

thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar: there are three.

2 The music plays: vouchsafe some motion to it.] In the old copies this line is assigned to Rosaline, when it clearly belongs to the King. In other places the dialogue is confusedly appropriated to the characters.

3 Why take we hands then] You, folio 1623. Afterwards, for "Prize you yourselves?" the folio has only "prize yourselves."

Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice) Metheglin, wort, and malmsey.-Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets.

Prin.

Seventh sweet, adieu.

Since you can cog1, I'll play no more with you.

Biron. One word in secret.
Prin.

Biron. Thou griev'st my gall.

Prin.

Biron.

Let it not be sweet.

Gall? bitter.

Therefore meet.

[They converse apart.

Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a

Please it you,

Take that for your fair lady 5.

As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.

[They converse apart.

Kath. What, was your visor 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 visor half.

Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman.-Is not veal a

Take all, and wean it: it may prove an ox.

Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks.

↑ Since you can coG,] To cog is, technically, to load dice, and metaphorically to deceive and cheat. It is of constant occurrence.

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5 Take that for your fair lady.] The folio reads, " Take you that," &c.

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 you cry.
[They converse apart.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
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. [Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music, and Attendants.

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.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! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night, Or ever, but in visors, show their faces? This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. Ros. 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. Dumaine 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 heart; And trow you, what he call'd me?

Prin.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.

Qualm, perhaps.