PRINCESS.
Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

BOYET.
O, I am stabb'd with laughter; where's the Princess?

PRINCESS.
Thy news, Boyet?

BOYET.
Prepare, madam, prepare.
The king, and his attendants, have contriv'd
Some scene of merriment, or antic shew,
This afternoon in your pavilion here,
Meaning thereby to gain an opportunity
To make a declaration of their loves.

PRINCESS.
St Dennis to Saint Cupid; what are they
That charge their breath against us?

BOYET.
Men, madam;
Under a sycamore's refreshing shade,
I thought to have clos'd mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
The king and his companions thither came;
I stole into a neighbouring thicket,
And overheard, what I will speak at large.
Their herald is a pretty winking boy,
A blinking Cupid, how he has chang'd their notes!
The morning fun no more delights their eyes,

Gazing at yours; no more the coursers pant
Up the steep hill, or down the verdant vale,
For recreation at their leisure hours:
No more—in short, dear ladies, than
For you alone, and for your loves they live.

ROSALINE.
Is Biron one, good Boyet?

PRINCESS.
Pray give the melancholy lady comfort,
Or else she'll break her tender heart with grief.

BOYET.
Madam, I did not see him there.

CATHERINE.
Alass, poor Rosaline! how fares thy heart?

ROSALINE.
Not greatly hurt with love, fair Catherine.
I cou'd have wished, before we left Navarre
To have tortur'd that same Biron, for his mockery.
O, that I knew his heart was touch'd with love,
How I wou'd make him fawn, and beg, and sue,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And shape his services to my behests!
So pedant-like would I his state o'ersway,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

BOYET.
Thus women ever love to rule the men!

PRINCESS.
Boyet, we will indulge their sport for once,
And give them room to shew their nimble wit;

For laughing at their idle tales of love,
We will admit no serious talk therein.
Maria, can you hear the gentle Longaville
Plead his fond love, and be unmov'd yourself?

MARIA.
Madam, I think I can.

PRINCESS.
Nay, if you only think, Maria, I have done.
What says Catherine?

CATHERINE.
When, I consider, madam, what is woman,
A woman woo'd there's nought so variable;
She's pert and peevish, when her swain is kind,
Varying all shapes, to shew her mighty prowess,
A woman woo'd, knows nothing but inconstancy,
A woman woo'd, is full of idle taunts,
A woman woo'd, makes promises to break them.

PRINCESS.
Well, I must say, these lords are gallant men,
To shape you, ladies, thus to their own wishes;
We know your will, fair Rosaline.

ROSALINE.
Madam, you do;
By your's alone I shall direct my choice,
Whatever limits you prescribe your love,
The same will Rosaline, if Biron comes.

BOYET.
Truly, this lady's very sick at heart,
If Biron comes—I cry your mercy!—

PRINCESS.
Boyet—no more—to our pavilion now,
Allons—allons—

MARIA.
We follow, madam.

BOYET.
To mar or make this dismal Comedy. End of the Fourth ACT.

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