PRINCESS.
Now, what admittance, lord?

BOYET.
Navarre had notice of your fair approach,
And he, and his competitors in oath,
Were all addrest to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came: marry, thus much I've 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.
Here comes Navarre. KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BIRON, and Attendants.

KING.
Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.

PRINCESS.

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.

PRINCESS.
I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.

KING.
Hear me, dear lady, I have sworn an oath.

PRINCESS.
Our lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.

KING.
Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.

PRINCESS.
Why, will will break its will, and nothing else.

KING.
Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.

PRINCESS.
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'instruct a teacher, ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

KING.
Madam, I will.

BIRON.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

ROSALINE.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

BIRON.
I know, you did.

ROSALINE.
How needless was it then to ask the question?

BIRON.
You must not be so quick.

ROSALINE.

O Sir, your servant! your question spurs me on: but you are a Student, I had forgot myself.— This palace of Navarre, how nobly it is adapted for contemplation! Pray, Sir, what's your study?

BIRON.

Books, madam. What a face! what eyes!

ROSALINE.

Sir!

BIRON.

Yes, madam, there is undoubtedly much rational amusement in books.—Study polishes our manners, enlarges our ideas, improves—What a delicate shape!

ROSALINE.

Sir!

BIRON.

Study, I say, madam, improves our understanding, calms our passion, sweetens the afflictions of life.—In short, fair lady, love refines the man— love—

ROSALINE.

Love! Sir, you mean study—ha! ha! ha! but we are observed.—

BIRON.

Ah me!

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 remain unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Altho' 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 Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty:
But that, it seems, he little purposes,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
An hundred thousand crowns; and next demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we, much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent
Than Aquitain so yielded as it is.

PRINCESS.
You do the king, my father, too much wrong,
And hurt the reputation of your name
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that, which hath so faithfully been paid.

KING.
I do protest, I never heard of it,
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

PRINCESS.
We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

KING.
Satisfy me so.

BOYET.
So please your grace, the packet is not come,
Where that, and other specialties, are bound:
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

KING.
It shall suffice me; at which interview
All liberal reason, I will yield unto:
Mean time receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates,
But here without you shall be so received,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Tho' so deny'd fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me; so, farewell.
To-morrow we shall visit you again. [Exit.

PRINCESS.
Sweet health, and fair desires consort your grace.

BIRON.
Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.

ROSALINE.
I pray you do my commendations;
I would be glad to see it.

BIRON.
I would you heard it groan.

ROSALINE.
Is the fool sick?

BIRON.
Sick at the heart!

ROSALINE.
Study is an excellent medicine.

BIRON.
What, how to win your favour.

ROSALINE.
No, abstinence, and the pale midnight lamp,
Will cure this raging fever in your blood.

BIRON.
For once I'll follow your advice, so fare you well. [Exit.

DUMAIN.
Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that same?

BOYET.
The heir of Alanson.

DUMAIN.
A gallant lady: monsieur, fare you well. [Exit.

LONGAVILLE.
I beseech you a word: what is she in red?

BOYET.
A woman.

LONGAVILLE.
I desire her name.

BOYET.
She hath but one for herself.

LONGAVILLE.
Pray, Sir, whose daughter?

BOYET.
Her mother's.

LONGAVILLE.
God's blessing on your beard!

BOYET.
Good Sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Faulconbridge.

LONGAVILLE.
Sir, I thank you;
She is a most sweet lady. [Exit.

PRINCESS.
Come to our pavilion—Boyet, we may there
Consult at large: Navarre, if I judge right,
Bears high his crest; I'll away to-morrow.

BOYET.
If my observation, (which very seldom errs)
By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes,
Decieve me not now, Navarre is infected.

PRINCESS.
With what?

BOYET.
With that which we lovers intitle affected.

PRINCESS.
Your reason?

BOYET.
Why, did you mark his eyes, how they did speak
The language of his heart, which like, an agat,
Impressed your fair excellence? for all his looks
Were full of you and love: believe me, I speak truth.

PRINCESS.
Come, let's away; Boyet's disposed to mirth. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The park near the palace. ARMADO, MOTH.

ARMADO.

Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

MOTH.

Concolinel—

ARMADO.

Sweet air! go, tenderness of years; take this key, and bring hither festinately, my sonata, I must employ you to carry it to my love.

MOTH.

Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?

ARMADO.

How mean'st thou brawling in French?

MOTH.

No, my compleat master, but to jigg off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometimes through the throat, as if you swallowed love by singing love; sometimes thro' the nose, as if you snuft up love by smelling love, with your hat, pent-house like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crost on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbet on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches that wou'd be—betrayed without these, and make the men of note.

ARMADO.

How hast thou purchas'd this experience?

MOTH.

By my pen of observation.

ARMADO.

Sing, Boy! sing.

MOTH. Sings.
“When daizes pied, and violets blue,
  “And lady-smocks all silver white,
“And cuckow buds of yellow hue,
  “Do paint the meadow with delight;

“The Cuckow then on every tree
“Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
“Cuckow!
“Cuckow! Cuckow! O word of fear,
“Unpleasing to a married ear!
“When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
  “And merry larks are ploughman's clocks:
“When Turtles tread, and Rooks and Daws;
  “And maidens bleach their summer smocks;
“The Cuckow then on every tree
“Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
“Cuckow!
“Cuckow! Cuckow! O word of fear,
“Unpleasing to a married ear!“

ARMADO.

A sweet touch—boy—thou art not brib'd to rail thus against matrimony?—I do weigh the happiness of that state by my own affection.—No more slander then, sweet youth!

MOTH.

Crave your mercy, Sir.

ARMADO.

Come, come, let's away—there's company in yonder grove.—I do protest my honour is much questioned by my attachment to this wench.