Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it?
  Clo. From my Lord to my Lady

   Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?
  Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline

   Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.
Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.

Exeunt.

  Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
  Rosa. Shall I teach you to know

   Boy. I my continent of beautie

   Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off

   Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie.
Finely put on

   Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter

   Boy. And who is your Deare?
  Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not
neare. Finely put on indeede

   Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee
strikes at the brow

   Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower:
Haue I hit her now

   Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that
was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as
touching the hit it

   Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that
was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a
little wench, as touching the hit it

   Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it my good man

   Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:
And I cannot, another can.
Enter.

  Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it

   Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both
did hit

   Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies
my Lady.
Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be

   Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out

   Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit
the clout

   Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
is in

   Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the
is in

   Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow
foule

   Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her
to boule

   Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
Oule

   Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.
O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were,
so fit.
Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man.
To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.
To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will
sweare:
And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,
Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
Sowla, sowla.

Exeunt. Shoote within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

  Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony
of a good conscience

   Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood,
ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in
the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon
falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the
land, the earth

   Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are
sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure
ye, it was a Bucke of the first head

   Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo

   Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket

   Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation,
as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as
it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were
his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated,
vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest
vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo
for a Deare

   Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a
Pricket

   Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster
Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke

   Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are
bred in a booke.
He hath not eate paper as it were:
He hath not drunke inke.
His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall,
onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants
are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we
taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in
vs more then he.
For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or
a foole;
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a
Schoole.
But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde,
Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde

   Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your
wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue
weekes old as yet?
  Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman
Dull

   Dul. What is dictima?
  Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone

   Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was
no more.
And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore.
Th' allusion holds in the Exchange

   Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the
Exchange

   Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds
in the Exchange

   Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange:
for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside
that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill'd

   Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall
Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour
the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesse kill'd a
Pricket

   Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall
please you to abrogate scurilitie

   Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues
facilitie.
The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt
a prettie pleasing Pricket,
Some say a Sore, but not a sore,
till now made sore with shooting.
The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,
then Sorrell iumps from thicket:
Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.
If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore,
makes fiftie sores O sorell:
Of one sore I an hundred make
by adding but one more L

   Nath. A rare talent

   Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him
with a talent

   Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish
extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects,
Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These
are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the
wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing
of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is
acute, and I am thankfull for it

   Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my
parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you,
and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you
are a good member of the common-wealth

   Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they
shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable,
I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a
soule Feminine saluteth vs.
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

  Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person

   Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should
be perst, Which is the one?
  Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a
hogshead

   Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit
in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle
enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well

   Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee
this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee
from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it

   Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra
ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I
may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie,
vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan,
old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re
sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or
rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses

   Hol. I sir, and very learned

   Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine.
If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue?
Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed.
Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue.
Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers
bowed.
Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend.
If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend.
All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
thunder.
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue

   Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the
accent. Let me superuise the cangenet

   Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius
Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but
for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the
ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the
Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse
his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to
you?
  Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the
strange Queenes Lords

   Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript.
To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline.
I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for
the nomination of the partie written to the person written
vnto.
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne

   Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries
with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent
of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or
by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and
goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the
King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I
forgiue thy duetie, adue

   Maid. Good Costard go with me:
Sir God saue your life

   Cost. Haue with thee my girle.
Enter.

  Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very
religiously: and as a certaine Father saith
  Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable
colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please
you sir Nathaniel?
  Nath. Marueilous well for the pen

   Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill
of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to
gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I
haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill,
vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those
Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of
Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie

   Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text)
is the happinesse of life

   Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.
Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca
verba.
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
recreation.

Exeunt.

Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.

  Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare,
I am coursing my selfe.
They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch,
pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee
downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say
I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this
Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a
sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue;
if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by
this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for
her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye,
and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath
taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is
part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she
hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the
Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter
Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care
a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a
paper, God giue him grace to grone.

He stands aside. The King entreth.

  Kin. Ay mee!
  Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast
thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
secrets

   King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not,
To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose,
As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot.
The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright,
Through the transparent bosome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe,
No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the teares that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe.
O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell,
No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.
Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
Enter Longauile. The King steps aside.

What Longauill, and reading: listen eare

   Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare

   Long. Ay me, I am forsworne

   Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers

   Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame

   Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name

   Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so?
  Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,
Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie,
The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie

   Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue.
O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue,
These numbers will I teare, and write in prose

   Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose,
Disfigure not his Shop

   Lon. This same shall goe.

He reades the Sonnet.

Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Perswade my heart to this false periurie?
Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment.
A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee.
My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine,
Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, What foole is not so wise,
To loose an oath, to win a Paradise?
  Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity.
A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry.
God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th' way.
Enter Dumaine.

  Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay

   Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie,
And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish

   Dum. O most diuine Kate

   Bero. O most prophane coxcombe

   Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye

   Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye

   Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted

   Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted

   Dum. As vpright as the Cedar

   Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child

   Dum. As faire as day

   Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine

   Dum. O that I had my wish?
  Lon. And I had mine

   Kin. And mine too good Lord

   Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?
  Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she
Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be

   Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision
Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision

   Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ

   Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.

Dumane reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alack the day:
Loue, whose Month is euery May,
Spied a blossome passing faire,
Playing in the wanton ayre:
Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,
All vnseene, can passage finde.
That the Louer sicke to death,
Wish himselfe the heauens breath.
Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,
Ayre, would I might triumph so.
But alacke my hand is sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
youth so apt to plucke a sweet.
Doe not call it sinne in me,
That I am forsworne for thee.
Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
Iuno but an aethiop were,
And denie himselfe for Ioue.
Turning mortall for thy Loue.
This will I send, and something else more plaine.
That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine.
O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,
Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note:
For none offend, where all alike doe dote

   Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,
That in Loues griefe desir'st societie:
You may looke pale, but I should blush I know,
To be ore-heard, and taken napping so

   Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such,
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart
His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart.
I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion:
Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion.
Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries!
On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes.
You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth,
And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath.
What will Berowne say when that he shall heare
Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare.
How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that euer I did see,
I would not haue him know so much by me

   Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
These wormes for louing, that art most in loue?
Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.
You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:
O me, with what strict patience haue I sat,
To see a King transformed to a Gnat?
To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes,
And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes.
Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine;
And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine?
And where my Liedges? all about the brest:
A Candle hoa!
  Kin. Too bitter is thy iest.
Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
  Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.
I that am honest, I that hold it sinne
To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
I am betrayed by keeping company
With men, like men of inconstancie.
When shall you see me write a thing in rime?
Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time,
In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will praise a
hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
a waste, a legge, a limme

   Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so

   Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go.
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.

  Iaqu. God blesse the King

   Kin. What Present hast thou there?
  Clo. Some certaine treason

   Kin. What makes treason heere?
  Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir

   Kin. If it marre nothing neither,
The treason and you goe in peace away together

   Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,
Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said

   Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.

He reades the Letter.

  Kin. Where hadst thou it?
  Iaqu. Of Costard

   King. Where hadst thou it?
  Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio

   Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
  Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not
feare it

   Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's
heare it

   Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name

   Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne
to doe me shame.
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse

   Kin. What?
  Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
vp the messe.
He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
Are picke-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die.
O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more

   Dum. Now the number is euen

   Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles
be gone?
  Kin. Hence sirs, away

   Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay

   Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace,
As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,
The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face:
Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.
We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne:
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne

   King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of
thine?
  Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline,
That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.)
At the first opening of the gorgeous East,
Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye
Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,
That is not blinded by her maiestie?
  Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now?
My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light

   Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty,
Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,
Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not,
To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs:
She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot.
A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne,
Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine

   King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie

   Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?
A wife of such wood were felicite.
O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
No face is faire that is not full so blacke

   Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
And beauties crest becomes the heauens well

   Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.
O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
Should rauish doters with a false aspect:
And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise,
Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow

   Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke


   Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright

   King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake

   Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light

   Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine,
For feare their colours should be washt away

   Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day

   Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here

   Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee

   Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere

   Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see

   Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread

   Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes?
The street should see as she walk'd ouer head

   Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
  Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne

   Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue
Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne

   Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill

   Long. O some authority how to proceed,
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell

   Dum. Some salue for periurie,
  Ber. O 'tis more then neede.
Haue at you then affections men at armes,
Consider what you first did sweare vnto:
To fast, to study, and to see no woman:
Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth.
Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young:
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords)
In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.
For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
Haue found the ground of studies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans face;
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long during action tyres
The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.
Now for not looking on a womans face,
You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes:
And studie too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any Author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:
Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes,
With our selues.
Doe we not likewise see our learning there?
O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords,
And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?
In leaden contemplation haue found out
Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:
Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine:
And therefore finding barraine practizers,
Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle.
But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,
Liues not alone emured in the braine:
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in euery power,
And giues to euery power a double power,
Aboue their functions and their offices.
It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound.
When the suspicious head of theft is stopt.
Loues feeling is more soft and sensible,
Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles.
Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste,
For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
Still climing trees in the Hesperides.
Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall,
As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
O then his lines would rauish sauage eares,
And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
They sparcle still the right promethean fire,
They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.
Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
Then fooles you were these women to forsweare:
Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue:
Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.
Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women:
Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.
Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues,
Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes:
It is religion to be thus forsworne.
For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:
And who can seuer loue from Charity

   Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field

   Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords,
Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd,
In conflict that you get the Sunne of them

   Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by,
Shall we resolue to woe these girles of France?
  Kin. And winne them too, therefore let vs deuise,
Some entertainment for them in their Tents

   Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither,
Then homeward euery man attach the hand
Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone
We will with some strange pastime solace them:
Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape,
For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,
Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres

   Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by vs be fitted

   Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne,
And Iustice alwaies whirles in equall measure:
Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne,
If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus.

Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.

  Pedant. Satis quid sufficit

   Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner
haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity,
witty without affection, audacious without impudency,
learned without opinion, and strange without
heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion
of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called,
Don Adriano de Armatho

   Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty,
his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye
ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour
vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked,
too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat,
as I may call it

   Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat,

Draw out his Table-booke.

  Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer
then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall
phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise
companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake
dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold
pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe:
halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated
ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable
it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to
make franticke, lunaticke?
  Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo

   Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil
serue.
Enter Bragart, Boy.

  Curat. Vides ne quis venit?
  Peda. Video, & gaudio

   Brag. Chirra

   Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
  Brag. Men of peace well incountred

   Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation

   Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages,
and stolne the scraps

   Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of
words. I maruell thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word,
for thou art not so long by the head as
honorificabilitu%dinitatibus:
Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon

   Page. Peace, the peale begins

   Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred?
  Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke:
What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
  Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added

   Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
his learning

   Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant?
  Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them,
or the fift if I

   Peda. I will repeat them: a e I

   Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u

   Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a
sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick &
home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit

   Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
wit-old

   Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?
  Page. Hornes

   Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy
Gigge

   Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds
horne

   Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the
very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny
purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the
heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard;
What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to,
thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say

   Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem

   Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse
on the top of the Mountaine?
  Peda. Or Mons the hill

   Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine

   Peda. I doe sans question

   Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection,
to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in
the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call
the after-noone

   Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable,
congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the
word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you
sir, I doe assure

   Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar,
I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward
betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember
thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head:
and among other importunate & most serious designes,
and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I
must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world)
sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with
his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my
mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world
I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it
pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier,
a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that
passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore
secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the
Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation,
or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke:
Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self
are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of
myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to
the end to craue your assistance

   Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.
Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment
of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee
rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this
most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before
the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine
Worthies

   Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to
present them?
  Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman
Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his
great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the
Page Hercules

   Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough
for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of
his Club

   Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules
in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a
Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose

   Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience
hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest
the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious,
though few haue the grace to doe it

   Brag. For the rest of the Worthies?
  Peda. I will play three my selfe

   Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman

   Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?
  Peda. We attend

   Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I
beseech you follow

   Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word
all this while

   Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir

   Ped. Alone, we will employ thee

   Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play
on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey

   Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
Enter.

Enter Ladies.

  Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I
haue from the louing King

   Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
  Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper
Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all,
That he was faine to seale on Cupids name

   Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax:
For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy

   Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too

   Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister

   Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and
so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie
nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere
she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long

   Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light
word?
  Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke

   Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out

   Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe:
Therefore Ile darkely end the argument

   Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke

   Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench

   Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light

   Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me

   Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure

   Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.
But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
  Ros. I would you knew.
And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this.
Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too.
I were the fairest goddesse on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O he hath drawne my picture in his letter

   Qu. Any thing like?
  Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise

   Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion

   Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke

   Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter.
O that your face were full of Oes

   Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes:
But Katherine, what was sent to you
From faire Dumaine?
  Kat. Madame, this Gloue

   Qu. Did he not send you twaine?
  Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie

   Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile.
The Letter is too long by halfe a mile

   Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short

   Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part

   Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so

   Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe.
O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
And wait the season, and obserue the times,
And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes,
And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice,
And make him proud to make me proud that iests.
So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state,
That he shold be my foole, and I his fate

   Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht,
As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd:
Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?
  Ros. The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse,
As grauities reuolt to wantons be

   Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note,
As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
Enter Boyet.

  Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face

   Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?
  Qu. Thy newes Boyet?
  Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.
Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd:
Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd.
Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence

   Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they,
That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say

   Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre:
When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest,
The King and his companions: warely
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare:
That by and by disguis'd they will be heere.
Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page:
That well by heart hath con'd his embassage,
Action and accent did they teach him there.
Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare.
And euer and anon they made a doubt,
Presence maiesticall would put him out:
For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see:
Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously.
The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:
I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder.
One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was neuer spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well.
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zelous laughter so profound,
That in this spleene ridiculous appeares,
To checke their folly passions solemne teares

   Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs?
  Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse.
Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance,
And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance,
Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know
By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow

   Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt:
For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt,
And not a man of them shall haue the grace
Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face.
Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare,
And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues
Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues

   Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight

   Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?
  Queen. The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs:
They doe it but in mocking merriment,
And mocke for mocke is onely my intent.
Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall,
To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall.
Vpon the next occasion that we meete,
With Visages displayd to talke and greete

   Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't?
  Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot,
Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace:
But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face

   Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart,
And quite diuorce his memory from his part

   Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt,
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne:
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.
So shall we stay mocking entended game,
And they well mockt, depart away with shame.

Sound.

  Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers
come.
Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the
rest of
the Lords disguised.

  Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth

   Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata

   Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd
their backes to mortall viewes.

The Ladies turne their backes to him.

  Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes

   Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes.
Out
  Boy. True, out indeed

   Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe
Not to beholde

   Ber. Once to behold, rogue

   Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes,
With your Sunne beamed eyes

   Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite,
you were best call it Daughter beamed eyes

   Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out

   Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue

   Rosa. What would these strangers?
Know their mindes Boyet.
If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will
That some plaine man recount their purposes.
Know what they would?
  Boyet. What would you with the Princes?
  Ber. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

   Ros. What would they, say they?
  Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

   Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon

   Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon

   Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles,
To tread a Measure with you on the grasse

   Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile,
To tread a Measure with you on this grasse

   Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie,
The measure then of one is easlie told

   Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles,
And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill vp one mile?
  Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps

   Boy. She heares her selfe

   Rosa. How manie wearie steps,
Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone,
Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?
  Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you,
Our dutie is so rich, so infinite,
That we may doe it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face,
That we (like sauages) may worship it

   Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too

   Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do.
Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine,
(Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne

   Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter,
Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water

   Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change.
Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange

   Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone.
Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone

   Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
  Rosa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's
changed?
  Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man

   Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to
it: Our eares vouchsafe it

   Kin. But your legges should doe it

   Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance,
Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance

   Kin. Why take you hands then?
  Rosa. Onelie to part friends.
Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends

   Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice

   Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price

   Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie?
  Rosa. Your absence onelie

   Kin. That can neuer be

   Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue,
Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you

   Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat

   Ros. In priuate then

   Kin. I am best pleas'd with that

   Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee

   Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three

   Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
There's halfe a dozen sweets

   Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg,
Ile play no more with you

   Ber. One word in secret

   Qu. Let it not be sweet

   Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall

   Qu. Gall, bitter

   Ber. Therefore meete

   Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
  Mar. Name it

   Dum. Faire Ladie:
  Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord:
Take you that for your faire Lady

   Du. Please it you,
As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu

   Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?
  Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske

   Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long

   Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask,
And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe

   Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a
Calfe?
  Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?
  Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe

   Long. Let's part the word

   Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe

   Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe
mockes.
Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so

   Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow

   Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die

   Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry

   Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the Razors edge, inuisible:
Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,
Aboue the sense of sence so sensible:
Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things
  Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off,
breake off

   Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe

   King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple
wits.

Exeunt.

  Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits.
Are these the breed of wits so wondred at?
  Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes
puft out

   Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat

   Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.
Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night?
Or euer but in vizards shew their faces:
This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite

   Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word

   Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite

   Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword:
No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute

   Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart:
And trow you what he call'd me?
  Qu. Qualme perhaps

   Kat. Yes in good faith

   Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art

   Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps,
But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne

   Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me

   Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne

   Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree

   Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare,
Immediately they will againe be heere
In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be,
They will digest this harsh indignitie

   Qu. Will they returne?
  Boy. They will they will, God knowes,
And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire,
Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire

   Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood

   Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud:
Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne

   Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do,
If they returne in their owne shapes to wo?
  Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd.
Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd:
Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare,
Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare:
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd:
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our Tent to vs

   Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand

   Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.