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Ros. This proves you wise 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, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Biron. 0, I am yours, and all that I possess.
I cannot give you less. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand
you this? · Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, Tbat hid the worse, and show'd the better face. King. We are descried: they'll mock us now
downright. Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Prin. Amaz’d, my lord ? Why looks your high
ness sad? Ros. Help, hold his brows: he'll swoon! Why
look you pale?Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me;
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait. Oh! 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 friend;
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-pild hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: I do forswear them: and I here protest, By this white glove, (how white the hand, God
knows!) Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.
Yet I have a trick
to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.
Ros. It is not so; For how can this be true,
Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you.
King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude
transgression Some fair excuse. Prin.
The fairest is confession.
King. Madam, I was.
And were you well advis'd ?
When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King. That more than all the world I did respect
her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will
reject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. Prin.
Peace, peace, forbear; Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will; and therefore keep it :-Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eye-sight; and did value me Above this world: adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word,
King. What mean you madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath.
Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :What; will you have me, or your pearl again?
Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on't;—Here was a consent, (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy: Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some
Dick, That smiles his cheek in years 54; and knows the
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have
Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Biron. What, are there but three?
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
And three times thrice is nine. Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope, it
is not so: You cannot beg us, sir 56, I can assure you, sir: we
know what we know: I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, Biron.
Is not nine. Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.
Biron. How much is it?
Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man, -e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir.
Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?