Exeunt.

Enter the King and the rest.

  King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?
  Boy. Gone to her Tent.
Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?
  King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word

   Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.
Enter.

  Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease,
And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please.
He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,
At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires.
And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know,
Haue not the grace to grace it with such show.
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue.
Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue.
He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he,
That kist away his hand in courtesie.
This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice,
That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice
In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing
A meane most meanly, and in Vshering
Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete.
The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete.
This is the flower that smiles on euerie one,
To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
And consciences that wil not die in debt,
Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet

   King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart,
That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
Enter the Ladies.

  Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
  King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day

   Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue

   King. Construe my speeches better, if you may

   Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue

   King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then

   Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men

   King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
The vertue of your eie must breake my oth

   Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke:
For vertues office neuer breakes men troth.
Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure
As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yeeld to be your houses guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie

   Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere,
Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame

   Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare,
We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game,
A messe of Russians left vs but of late

   Kin. How Madam? Russians?
  Qu. I in truth, my Lord.
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state

   Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord:
My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)
In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise.
We foure indeed confronted were with foure
In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre,
And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord)
They did not blesse vs with one happy word.
I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,
When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke

   Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete,
Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete
With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie:
By light we loose light; your capacitie
Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore,
Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore

   Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie
  Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie

   Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue

   Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse

   Ros. All the foole mine

   Ber. I cannot giue you lesse

   Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
  Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?
Why demand you this?
  Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face

   Kin. We are discried,
They'l mocke vs now downeright

   Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest

   Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes
sadde?
  Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke
you pale?
Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie

   Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury.
Can any face of brasse hold longer out?
Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me,
Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout.
Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance.
Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:
And I will wish thee neuer more to dance,
Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite.
O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd,
Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.
Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue,
Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,
Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;
Figures pedanticall, these summer flies,
Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forsweare them, and I heere protest,
By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes.
And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,
  Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you

   Ber. Yet I haue a tricke
Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see,
Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
They are infected, in their hearts it lies:
They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These Lords are visited, you are not free:
For the Lords tokens on you do I see

   Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs

   Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs

   Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue

   Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you

   Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend

   Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end

   King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression,
some faire excuse

   Qu. The fairest is confession.
Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
  Kin. Madam, I was

   Qu. And were you well aduis'd?
  Kin. I was faire Madam

   Qu. When you then were heere,
What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
  King. That more then all the world I did respect her
  Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect
her

   King. Vpon mine Honor no

   Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare

   King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine

   Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your eare?
  Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare
As precious eye-sight, and did value me
Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer,
That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer

   Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
Most honorably doth vphold his word

   King. What meane you Madame?
By my life, my troth
I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth

   Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
You gaue me this: But take it sir againe

   King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,
I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue

   Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare.
And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
  Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.
I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas Comedie.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie,
Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick
That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick
To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;
Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she.
Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
We are againe forsworne in will and error.
Much vpon this tis: and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?
Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?
And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.
Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd.
You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie
Wounds like a Leaden sword

   Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere
bene run

   Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
Enter Clowne.

Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray

   Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no

   Ber. What, are there but three?
  Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,
For euerie one pursents three

   Ber. And three times thrice is nine

   Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what
we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir

   Ber. Is not nine

   Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it
doth amount

   Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine

   Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your
liuing by reckning sir

   Ber. How much is it?
  Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir
will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne
part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one
poore man) Pompion the great sir

   Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?
  Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
the Worthie, but I am to stand for him

   Ber. Go, bid them prepare.
Enter.

  Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some
care

   King. Berowne, they will shame vs:
Let them not approach

   Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some
policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his
companie

   Kin. I say they shall not come

   Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.
Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents
Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents:
Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth

   Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.
Enter Braggart.

  Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words

   Qu. Doth this man serue God?
  Ber. Why aske you?
  Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making

   Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch:
For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall:
Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they
say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde
most royall cupplement

   King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies;
He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great,
the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules,
the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies
in their first shew thriue, these foure will change
habites, and present the other fiue

   Ber. There is fiue in the first shew

   Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so

   Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the
Foole, and the Boy,
Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine

   Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.
Enter Pompey.

  Clo. I Pompey am

   Ber. You lie, you are not he

   Clo. I Pompey am

   Boy. With Libbards head on knee

   Ber. Well said old mocker,
I must needs be friends with thee

   Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big

   Du. The great

   Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great:
That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,
did make my foe to sweat:
And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,
And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of
France.
If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done

   La. Great thankes great Pompey

   Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect.
I made a little fault in great

   Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the
best Worthie.
Enter Curate for Alexander.

  Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander:
By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might
My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander

   Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not:
For it stands too right

   Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling
Knight

   Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:
Proceede good Alexander

   Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander

   Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander

   Ber. Pompey the great

   Clo. your seruant and Costard

   Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander
  Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror:
you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for
this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close
stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie.
A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away
for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish
milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht.
He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie
good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a
little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming,
will speake their minde in some other sort.

Exit Cu.

  Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

  Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,
Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus,
And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,
Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
Ergo, I come with this Apologie.
Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy

  Ped. Iudas I am

   Dum. A Iudas?
  Ped. Not Iscariot sir.
Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus

   Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas

   Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?
  Ped. Iudas I am

   Dum. The more shame for you Iudas

   Ped. What meane you sir?
  Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe

   Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder

   Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder

   Ped. I will not be put out of countenance

   Ber. Because thou hast no face

   Ped. What is this?
  Boi. A Citterne head

   Dum. The head of a bodkin

   Ber. A deaths face in a ring

   Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene

   Boi. The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion

   Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske

   Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch

   Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead

   Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.
And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
  Ped. You haue put me out of countenance

   Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces

   Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all

   Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so

   Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:
And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
  Dum. For the latter end of his name

   Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away

   Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble

   Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he
may stumble

   Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene
baited.
Enter Braggart.

  Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
Armes

   Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
now be merrie

   King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this

   Boi. But is this Hector?
  Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd

   Lon. His legge is too big for Hector

   Dum. More Calfe certaine

   Boi. No, he is best indued in the small

   Ber. This cannot be Hector

   Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces

   Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
gaue Hector a gift

   Dum. A gilt Nutmegge

   Ber. A Lemmon

   Lon. Stucke with Cloues

   Dum. No clouen

   Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion;
A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea
From morne till night, out of his Pauillion.
I am that Flower

   Dum. That Mint

   Long. That Cullambine

   Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue

   Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against
Hector

   Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound

   Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten,
Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:
But I will forward with my deuice;
Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.

Berowne steppes forth.

  Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted

   Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper

   Boy. Loues her by the foot

   Dum. He may not by the yard

   Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.
The partie is gone

   Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths
on her way

   Brag. What meanest thou?
  Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the
poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags
in her belly alreadie: tis yours

   Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou shalt die

   Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that
is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
him

   Dum. Most rare Pompey

   Boi. Renowned Pompey

   Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
Pompey the huge

   Dum. Hector trembles

   Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre
them, or stirre them on

   Dum. Hector will challenge him

   Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then
will sup a Flea

   Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee

   Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man;
Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow
my Armes againe

   Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies

   Clo. Ile do it in my shirt

   Dum. Most resolute Pompey

   Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower:
Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what
meane you? you will lose your reputation

   Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will
not combat in my shirt

   Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the
challenge

   Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will

   Ber. What reason haue you for't?
  Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,
I go woolward for penance

   Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want
of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but
a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his
heart for a fauour.
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.

  Mar. God saue you Madame

   Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest
our merriment

   Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is
heauie in my tongue. The King your father
  Qu. Dead for my life

   Mar. Euen so: My tale is told

   Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud

   Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I
haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of
discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt. Worthies

  Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?
  Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night

   Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay

   Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords
For all your faire endeuours and entreats:
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,
In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide,
The liberall opposition of our spirits,
If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,
In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse
Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord:
A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes,
For my great suite, so easily obtain'd

   Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes
All causes to the purpose of his speed:
And often at his verie loose decides
That, which long processe could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progenie
Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue:
The holy suite which faine it would conuince,
Yet since loues argument was first on foote,
Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it
From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost,
Is not by much so wholsome profitable,
As to reioyce at friends but newly found

   Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double

   Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe
And by these badges vnderstand the King,
For your faire sakes haue we neglected time,
Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies
Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors
Euen to the opposed end of our intents.
And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:
As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,
All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes
Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule,
To euerie varied obiect in his glance:
Which partie-coated presence of loose loue
Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,
Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.
Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults,
Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies
Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes
Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false,
By being once false, for euer to be true
To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.
And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne,
Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace

   Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue:
Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue.
And in our maiden counsaile rated them,
At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie,
As bumbast and as lining to the time:
But more deuout then these are our respects
Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues
In their owne fashion, like a merriment

   Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest

   Lon. So did our lookes

   Rosa. We did not coat them so

   Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre,
Grant vs your loues

   Qu. A time me thinkes too short,
To make a world-without-end bargaine in:
No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much,
Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this:
If for my Loue (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me.
Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed
To some forlorne and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world:
There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes
Haue brought about their annuall reckoning.
If this austere insociable life,
Change not your offer made in heate of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue,
But that it beare this triall, and last loue:
Then at the expiration of the yeare,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine,
I will be thine: and till that instant shut
My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house,
Raining the teares of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my Fathers death.
If this thou do denie, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the others hart

   Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest,
The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.
Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest

   Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
  Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd.
You are attaint with faults and periurie:
Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,
A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest,
But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke

   Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?
  Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie,
With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three

   Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?
  Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,
Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say.
Come when the King doth to my Ladie come:
Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some

   Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then

   Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen

   Lon. What saies Maria?
  Mari. At the tweluemonths end,
Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend

   Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long

   Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong

   Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:
What humble suite attends thy answer there,
Impose some seruice on me for my loue

   Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue
Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,
Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes:
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercie of your wit.
To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,
And therewithall to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won:
You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,
Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse
With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be,
With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile

   Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible.
Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie

   Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles:
A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare
Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares,
Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,
Will heare your idle scornes; continue then,
And I will haue you, and that fault withall.
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shal finde you emptie of that fault,
Right ioyfull of your reformation

   Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,
Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall

   Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue

   King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way

   Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:
Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie
Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie

   Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,
And then 'twil end

   Ber. That's too long for a play.
Enter Braggart.

  Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me

   Qu. Was not that Hector?
  Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy

   Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue.
I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the
Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed
greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two
Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and
the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our
shew

   Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so

   Brag. Holla, Approach.
Enter all.

This side is Hiems, Winter.
This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,
Th' other by the Cuckow.
Ver, begin.

The Song.

When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:
And Ladie-smockes all siluer white,
Do paint the Medowes with delight.
The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
Mockes married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare.
When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,
And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes:
When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,
And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:
The Cuckow then on euerie tree
Mockes married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare

   Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall,
And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile;
And Tom beares Logges into the hall,
And Milke comes frozen home in paile:
When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle
Tuwhit towho.
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
When all aloud the winde doth blow,
And coffing drownes the Parsons saw:
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:
When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle,
Tuwhit towho:
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot

   Brag. The Words of Mercurie,
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:
You that way; we this way.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.