And confciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongu'd Boyet.

King. A blifter on his sweet tongue with my heart, That put Armado's Page out of his part!

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Boyet, and Attendants.

Biron. See, where it comes; behaviour, what wert thou,
'Till this man fhew'd thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, fweet Madam, and fair time of day!
Prin. Fair in all hail is foul, as I conceive.
King. Conftrue my fpeeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then with me better, I will give you leave.
King. We come to vifit you, and purpofe now
To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.
Prin. This field fhall hold me, and fo hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur❜d men.

King. Rebuke me not for that, which you provoke :
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should have
fpoke:

For virtue's office never breaks mens troth.

"the perfon fo denominated. And now I will give the reason of my "rule. In the less-used metaphors, our mind is fo turn'd upon the "image which the metaphor conveys, that it expects that that image

hould be for a little time continued, by terms proper to keep it up. "But if, for want of these terms, the image be no fooner prefented, but dropt; the mind fuffers a kind of violence by being call'd off. "unexpectedly and fuddenly from its contemplation, and from hence "the broken, disjointed, and mixt metaphor fhocks us. But when the

metaphor is worn and hackney'd by common ufe, even the first "mention of it does not raife in the mind the image of itself, but "immediately prefents the idea of the fubftance: and then to endea"vour to continue the image, and keep it up in the mind by proper "adapted terms, would, on the other hand, have as ill an effect; be"caufe the mind is already gone off from the metaphorical image to "the fubftance. Grammatical criticks would do well to confider "what has been here faid, when they fet upon amending Greek and "Roman writings. For the much-ufed, hackney'd metaphors in "thofe languages muft now be very imperfectly known: and confequently, without great caution, they will be subject to act teme"rariously."

Now,

Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unfully'd lilly, I proteft,
A world of torments though I fhould endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heav'nly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O, you have liv'd in defolation here,
Unfeen, unvifited, much to our fhame.
Prin. Not fo, my Lord; it is not fo, I swear;
We have had paftimes here, and pleafant game.
A mefs of Ruffians left us but of late.

King. How, Madam? Ruffians?

Prin. Ay, in truth, my Lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.

Rofa. Madam, fpeak true. It is not fo, my Lord: My Lady (to the manner of the days)

In courtesy gives undeferving praise.

We four, indeed, confronted were with four,
In Ruffian habit: here they ftay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my Lord,
They did not blefs us with one happy word,
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
Biron. This jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle fweet,
Your wit makes wife things foolish; when we greet
With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,

By light we lose light; your capacity
Is of that nature, as to your huge ftore
Wife things feem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Rofa. This proves you wife and rich; for in my eye
Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Rofa. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to fnatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I pofiefs.
Rofa. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you

lefs.

Rofa. Which of the vizors was it, that you wore?
Biron. Where when? what vizor? why demand you this?
Rofa. There, then, that vizor, that fuperfluous cafe,

L 4

That

That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face.
King. We are defcried; they'll mock us now downright.
Dum. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jeft.

Prin. Amaz'd, my Lord? why looks your Highness fad? Rofa. Help, hold his brows, he'll fwoon: why look you pale?

Sea-fick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the ftars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brafs hold longer out? Hère ftand I, Lady, dart thy fkill at me;

Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout, Thruft thy fharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will with thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Ruffian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a school-boy's Nor never come in vizor to my friend,

tongue ;

Nor woo in rhime like a blind harper's fong; Taffata-phrafes, filken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation. Figures pedantical, thefe fummer-flies,

Have blown me full of maggot oftentation,

I do forfwear them

9 ana

་ T

i here proteft,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God

knows!)

Henceforth my wooing mind fhall be expreft
In ruffet yeas, and honeft kerfy noes:
And to begin, wench, fo God help me, law,
My love to thee is found, fans crack or flaw.
Rofa. Sans, fans, I pray you.

Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage: bear with me, I am fick.
I'll leave it by degrees: foft, let us fee;
Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;

They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
Thefe Lords are vifited, you are not free;
For the Lord's tokens on you both I see.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us. Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. Rofa. It is not fo; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that fue? Biron. Peace, for I will not have to do with Rofa. Nor fhall not, if I do as I intend. Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, fweet Madam, for our rude tranfgreffion Some fair excufe.

Prin. The fairest is confeffion.

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?

you.

King. That more than all the world I did refpect her. Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will rejecther. King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin. Peace, peace, forbear:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear.
King. Despise me when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will, and therefore keep it. Rofaline,
What did the Ruffian whisper in your ear?

Rofa. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-fight; 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
Moft honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my troth, I never fwore this Lady fuch an oath.

Rofa. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, to th' Princess I did give;

I knew her by this jewel on her fleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she wear: And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear,

What? will you have me? or your pearl again?

L 5

Biron

Biron. Neither of either: I remit both twain.
I fee the trick on't; here was a confent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dafh it like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, fome pleafe-man, fome flight zany,
Some mumble-news, fome trencher-knight, fome Dick,
That smiles his cheek in jeers, and knows the trick (48)
To make my Lady laugh, when fhe's difpos'd,
Told our intents before; which once difclos'd,
The Ladies did change favours, and then we,
Following the figns, woo'd but the fign of the:
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forfworn, in will and error.
Much upon this it is. And might not you [To Boyet.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?

Do not you know my Lady's foot by th' squier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye,
And ftand between her back, Sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jefting merrily?

You put our page out: go, you are allow'd ;
Die when you will, a fmock fhall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye
Wounds like a leaden fword.

Boyet. Full merrily

Hath this brave manage, this career been run.
Biron. Lo, he is tilting strait. Peace, I have done.

Enter Coftard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou parteft a fair fray.
Ceft. O Lord, Sir, they would know
Whether the three worthies fhall come in, or no.
Biron. What, are there but three?
Coft. No, Sir, but it is vara fine;

For every one pursents three.

Biron. And three times thrice is nine?

(48) That smiles kis cheek in years,] Thus the whole fet of impreffions: but I cannot for my heart comprehend the fenfe of this phrafe I am perfuaded, I have reftor'd the poet's word and meaning. "Boyet's character was that of a fleerer, jeerer, mocker, carping blade.

Coft.