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And shape to win grace, though he had no wit.
I faw him at the duke Alanzon's once,
And much too little of that good I faw
Is my report to his great worthiness.
Rof. Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, as I have heard a truth;
Biron they call him: but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expofitor)
Delivers in fuch apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished ;
So fweet and voluble is his discourse.
Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With fuch bedecking ornaments of praise?
Mar. Here comes Boyet.
Prin. Now, what admittance, lord?
Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all addrefs'd to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came: marry, thus much Iv'e learn'd
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to befiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house.
Here comes Navarre.
Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and attendants.
King. Fair princess, welcome to th' court of Navarre.
Prin. Fair I give you back again, and welcome. I have not
yet: the roof of this court is too high to be yours, and welcome
to the wide fields too base to be mine.
King. You fhall be welcome, madam, to my court.
Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.
King. Hear me, dear lady; I have fworn an oath.
Prin. Our lady help my lord! he'll be forfworn.
King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
Prin. Why, will fhall break its will, and nothing else.
King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Prin. Were my lord fo, his ignorance were wife,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear, your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
'Tis deadly fin to keep that oath, my lord;
Not fin to break it.
But pardon me, I am too fudden bold:
To teach a teacher ill befeemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
King. Madam, I will, if fuddenly I may.
Prin. You will the fooner, that I were away,
For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay.
Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Rof. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Biron. I know, you did.
Rof. How needlefs was it then to ask the question!
Biron. You must not be fo quick.
Rof. 'Tis long of you that fpur me with fuch questions.
Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
Rof. Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o' day?
Rof. The hour that fools should ask.
Biron. Now fair befall
Rof. Fair fall the face it covers!
Biron. And fend
you many lovers!
Rof. Amen, fo you be none!
Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.
King. Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but th' one half of an entire fum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But fay that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv'd that fum; yet there remains unpay'd
A hundred thousand more; in furety of which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valu'd to the money's worth:
If then the king your father will restore
But that one half which is unfatisfy'd,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty :
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand, to have repay'd
An hundred thousand crowns, and not demands,
On payment of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain fo gelded as it is.
Dear princefs, were not his requests so far
From reafon's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast,
go well fatisfied to France again.
Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In fo unfeeming to confefs receipt
Of that which hath fo faithfully been pay'd.
King. I do proteft, I never heard of it ;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.
Prin. We arreft your word;
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For fuch a fum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.
King. Satisfy me fo.
Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other fpecialties are bound:
To-morrow you shall have a fight of them.
King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto:
Mean-time, receive fuch welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of, to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates,
But here without you fhall be fo receiv'd,
you fhall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though fo deny'd fair harbour in my house:
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel;
To-morrow we fhall vifit you again.
Prin. Sweet health and fair defires comfort your grace!
King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.
Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.
Rof. I pray you, do my commendations;
I would be glad to fee it.
Biron. I would, you heard it groan.*
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same?
Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name.
Dum. A gallant lady! monfieur, fare you well.
Long. I befeech you, a word: what is the in white? *
Boyet. She is an heir of Faulconbridge.
Lông. She is a most sweet lady.
Boyet. Not unlike, fir, that may be.
my obfervation (which very seldom lies)
Of the heart's ftill rhetorick, difclofed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected."
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.
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.
Mar. Two hot fheeps, marry.
Boyet. And wherefore not fhips?
No sheep, fweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
Mar. You fheep, and I pafture; fhall that finish the jeft?
Boyet. So you grant pafture for me.
Mar. Not fo, gentle beaft;
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.
This civil war of wits were much better us'd
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd.
Boyet. If my, &c.
Prin. With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers, entitle, affected.
Prin, Your reason?