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 expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished,
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Prin.
God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
[1.] Lord.
Here comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.
Prin.
Now, what admittance, lord?
Boyet.
Navarre had notice of your fair approach,
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all address’d to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt:
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his [unpeopled] house.
Enter [Ferdinand, King of] Navarre, Longaville, Dumaine, and Berowne, [and Attendants].
Here comes Navarre.
[The ladies-in-waiting mask.]
King.
Fair Princess, welcome to the 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 shall be welcome, madam, to my court.
Prin.
I will be welcome then—conduct me thither.
King.
Hear me, dear lady: I have sworn an oath.
Prin.
Our Lady help my lord! he’ll be forsworn.
King.
Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
Prin.
Why, will shall break it, will, and nothing else.
King.
Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Prin.
Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your Grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
’Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me, I am too sudden bold;
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
[Giving a paper.]
King.
Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
Prin.
You will the sooner, that I were away,
For you’ll prove perjur’d if you make me stay.
Ber.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Kath.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Ber.
I know you did.
Kath.
How needless was it then
To ask the question?
Ber.
You must not be so quick.
Kath.
’Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.
Ber.
Your wit’s too hot, it speeds too fast, ’twill tire.
Kath.
Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
Ber.
What time a’ day?
Kath.
The hour that fools should ask.
Ber.
Now fair befall your mask!
Kath.
Fair fall the face it covers!
Ber.
And send you many lovers!
Kath.
Amen, so you be none.
Ber.
Nay then will I be gone.
King.
Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
Being but the one half of an entire sum
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv’d that sum, yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which
One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money’s worth.
If then the King your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,
And hold fair friendship with his Majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth:
For here he doth demand to have repaid
A hundred thousand crowns, and not demands,
[On] payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitaine;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than