Their Purpose is to parley, court, and dance, Prin. And will they fo? the Gallants shall be taskt; Hold Rofaline, this Favour thou fhalt wear, And change your Favours too, fo fhall your Loves Rofa. Come on then, wear the Favours most in fight. Kath. But in this changing, What is your Intent? Prin. The Effect of my Intent is to cross theirs; They do it but in mocking Merriment, And Mock for Mock is only my Intent. Their feveral Counfels they unbosom shall To Loves miftook, and fo be mockt withal: Upon the next Occafion that we meet With Vifages difplay'd to talk and greet. Rofa. But fhall we dance, if they defire us to't? Prin. No, to the Death we will not move a foot, Nor to their pen'd Speech render we no Grace: But while 'tis fpoke, each turn away her Face, Boyet. Why that Attempt will kill the Keeper's Heart, The reft will ne'er come in, if he be out. And they well mockt, depart away with Shame. [Sound.. Enter the King, Biron, Longavile, Dumain, and Attendants, difguiz'd like Muscovites. Moth with Musick, as for a Masquerade. Moth. All hail the richest Beauties on the Earth. Moth. Moth. A boly Parcel of the fairest Dames that ever turn'd their Backs to mortal Views. [The Ladies turn their Backs to him. Biron. Their Eyes, Villain, their Eyes. Moth. That ever turn'd their Eyes to mortal Views. Out Moth. Out of your Favours heav'nly Spirit, vouchsafe not to behold. Biron. Once to behold, Rogue. Moth. Once to behold with your Sun-beamed Eyes With your Sun-beamed Eyes Biron. They will not answer to that Epithete; You were beft call it Daughter-beam'd Eyes. Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out. Biron. Is this your Perfe&nefs? Begone, you Rogue. Rofa. What would thefe Strangers? Know their Minds, Boyet. If they do fpeak our Language, 'tis our Will Boyet. What would you with the Princess? Boyet. If to come hither you have meafur'd Miles, And many Miles; the Princefs bids you tell, How many Inches doth fill up one Mile? Biron. Tell her we measure them by weary Steps. Rofa. How many weary Steps Of many weary Miles you have o'er-gone, Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you, Our Duty is fo rich, fo infinite, That That we may do it still without Accompt. Rofa. My Face is but a Moon, and clouded too. King. Bleffed are Clouds, to do as fuch Clouds do. Vouchfafe, bright Moon, on thefe thy Stars to fhine (Thofe Clouds remov'd) upon our watery Eyne. Rofa. O vain Petitioner, beg a greater Matter; Thou now requefls but Moon-fhine in the Water. King. Then in our measure, vouchfafe but one Change; Thou bid'ft me beg, this Begging is not ftrange. Rofa. Play Mufick then; nay you must do it foon. Not yet no Dance; thus change I like the Moon. King. Will you not dance, how come you thus eftrang'd? Rofa. You took the Moon at Full, but now fhe's chang'd. King. Yet ftill fhe is the Moon, and I the Man. Rofa. The Mufick plays, vouchsafe fome Motion to it: Our Ears vouchfafe it, King. But your Legs fhall do it. Rofa. Since you are Strangers, and come here by chance, We'll not be nice, take Hands, we will not dance. King. Why take you Hands then! Rofa. Only to part Friends. Curtfie fweet Hearts, and fo the Measure ends. King. More Measure of this Measure; be not nice. Rofa. We can afford no more at fuch a Price. King. Price your felves then; what buys your Company? Rofa. Your Abfence only. King. That can never be. Rofa. 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. King. I am beft pleas'd with that. Biron. White-handed Miftrefs, one fweet Word with thee. Prin. Honey, and Milk, and Sugar; there is three. Biron. Nay then two Treys; and if you grow fo nice, Methegline, Wort, and Malmfey; well run Dice: There's half a dozen Sweets. Prin. Seventh Sweet adieu, fince you can cog, I'll play no more with you. Biron. Therefore meet. Dum. Will you vouchfafe with me to change a Word? Mar. Name it. Dam. Fair Lady, Mar. Say you fo? Fair Lord: Take you that for your fair Lady. Dum. Please it you; As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. Kath. What, was your Vizard made without a Tongue? Kath. O for your Reason, quickly Sir, I long. Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutch Man; is not Veal a Calf? Kath. No, a fair Lord Calf. Long. Let's part-the Word. Kath. No, I'll not be your Half; Take all and wean it; it may prove an Ox. Long. Look how you But to your felf in these sharp Mocks! Will you give Horns, chafte Lady? Do not fo. Kath. Then die a Calf before your Horns do grow. Cutting a fmaller Hair than may be seer, Seemeth their Conference, their Conceits have Wings, Biron. By Heav'n all dry beaten with pure Scoff. [Exeunt. Prin. Twenty Adieus, my frozen Muscovites. Are these the Breed of Wits fo wondred, at ? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your fweet Breaths puft out. Rofa. Well-liking Wits they have, grofs, grofs, fat, fat. Will they not (think you) hang themfelves to Night? Mar. Dumain was at my Service, and his Sword: Prin. Qualm, perhaps. Kath. Yes, in good Faith. Prin. Go Sickness as thou art. Rofa. Well, better Wits have worn plain Statute Caps. In their own Shapes; for it can never be, Prin. Will they return? Boyet. They will, they will, God knows, And leap for Joy, though they are lame with Blows: Prin. How blow? how blow? fpeak to be understood. Prin. Avaunt Perplexity: What shall we do, Let |