ROSALINE

Pray you, do my commendations, I would be glad to see it. Is the fool sick. Alack, let it blood. My Physic says I. No point, with my knife. And yours from long living. Shall I teach you to know. Why she that bears the Bow. Finely put off. Well then I am the shooter. If we choose by the horns, your self come not near. Finely put on in deed. Shall I come upon thee with and old saying, that was a man when King Pippen of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it my good man. Madame, came nothing else along with that? What would they, say they? Why that they have, and bid them so be gone. It is not so. Ask them how many inches Is in one mile? If they have measured many, The measure then of one is easily told. How many weary steps, Of many weary miles you have over gone, Are numbered in the travail of one Mile? My face is but a Moon, and clouded too. Oh vain petitioner, beg a greater matter, Thou now requests but Moonshine in the water. Good Madame, if by me yowl be advised, Lets mock them still as well known as disguised: Let us complain to them what fools were hear, Disguysd Like Muscovites in shapeless gear: And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow shows, and Prologue vildly pende And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our Tent to us. Madame speak true: It is not so my Lord: My Lady (to the manner of the days) In courtesy gives undeserving praise. We four in deed confronted were with four, In Russian habit: here they stayed and hour, And talked apace: and in that hour (my Lord) They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would feign have drink. This proves you wise and rich: for in my eye. All the fool mine. There, then, that Vizard? that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and showed the better face. Help hold his brows, heel found: why look you pale? Sea sick I think coming from Moscovy. Sans, sans, I pray you. It is not so, for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. Madame, he swore that he did hold me deer, As precious eyesight, and did valve me Above this World: adding thereto more over, That he would wed me, or else die my Lover. We did not coat them so. Oft have I herd of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man repleat with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts: Which you on all estetes will execute, That lie within the mercy of your with To weed this wormwood from your fructfull brain, And therewithal to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be wone: You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day, Visit the speechless sick, and still converse, With groaning wretches: and your task shall be, With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile. That was the way to make his godhead Wax: For he hath been five thousand year a Boy. Yowl near be friends with him, a killed your sister. Whats your dark meaning mouce, of this light word? We need more light to find your meaning out. Look what you do, you do it still i'th dark. In deed I weigh not you, and therefore light. Great reason: for passed care, is still passed cure. I would you knew. And if my face were but as fair as yours, My Favour were as great, be witness this. Nay I have Verses too, I thank Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbering too, I were the fairest Goddess on the ground. I am compared to twenty thousand fairs. Oh he hath drawn my picture in his letter. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise. Beware pensalls, How? Let me not die your debtor, My read Dominical, my golden letter, Oh that your face were not so full of Oes. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne isle torture ere I go. Oh that I knew he wore but in by the week, How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in booteles rhymes And shape his service wholly to my device, And make him proud to make me proud that jests Their several counsels they vnboosome shall, To Loves mistook, and so be mocked withal. Upon the next occasion that we meet, With Visages displayde to talk and greet. But shall we dance, if they desire us toot? Well, better-wits have worn plain sta Caps. But will you hear; the King is my Love sworn. Which of the Vizards was it that you wore? What would these stranges? Know their minds Boyet. If they do speak our language, 'tis our will That some plain man recount their purposes. Know what they would? By heaven you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it sir again. But that you take what does to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. You must be purged to, your sins are racked. You are attaint with faults and perjury: Therefore if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick. Why thats the way to choke a gibing spirrit, Whose influence is begotten of that lose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools, A jests prosperity lies in the ear, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it: then if sickly ears Deaft with the clamours of their own deer groans, Will hear your idle scorns; continue then, And I will have you, and that fault withal. But if they will not, throw away that spirrit, And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation.