For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, Rofa. Another of these students at that time Prin. God bless my ladies, are they all in love, Enter Boyet. Prin. Now, what admittance, Lord? Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach; And he and his competitors in oath Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and Attendants. King. Fair Princess, welcome to the Court of Na varre. 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 its will, and nothing elfe. King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. And fin to break it. : But pardon me, I am too fudden bold : King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. Rof. How needless was it then to ask the question ? questions. Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. Rof. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire. Rof. The hour, that fools should ask. King. Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but th' one half of an intire 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 furety of the which, One part of Aquitain is bound to us, Although not valu'd to the mony's worth : If then the King your father will restore But that one half which is unfatisfy'd, We will give up our right in Aquitain, And hold fair friendship with his Majesty : But that, it feems, he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to have repaid An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, (7) On payment of an hundred thousand crowns, To have his title live in Aquitain; Which we much rather had depart withal, And have the mony by our father lent, Than Aquitain so gelded as it is. Dear Princess, were not his requests fo far From reason's yielding, your fair self should make (7) And not demands One payment of an hundred thousand Crowns, The old Books concur in this Reading, and Mr. Pope has embraced it; tho', as I conceive, it is ftark Nonsense, and repugnant to the Circumstance suppos'd by our Poet. I have, by reforming the Pointing, and throwing out a single Letter, restor'd, I believe, the genuine Sense of the Passage. Aquitain was pledg'd, it seems, to Navarre's father, for 200000 Crowns. The French King pretends to have paid one Moiety of this Debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of,) but demands this Moiety back again: infstead whereof (fays Navarre) he should rather pay the remaining Moiety, and demand to have Aquitain redeliver'd up to him. This is plain and easy Reafoning upon the Fact suppos'd; and Navarre declares, he had rather i A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast; Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, Prin. We arrest your word : King. Satisfie me fo. Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, King. It shall fuffice me; at which interview, Prin. Sweet health and fair defires confort your Grace! King. Thy own Wish wish I thee, in every place. Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. I would be glad to fee it. Biron. I would, you heard it groan. Rof. Is the fool fick? Biron. Sick at the heart. Rof. Alack, let it blood. Biron. Would that do it good? Rof. Rof. My physick says, ay. [Exit. Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that fame ? Boyet. The heir of Alanson, Rosaline her name. Dum. A gallant lady; Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit. Long. I beseech you, a word: what is she in white? Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you saw her in the light. Long. Perchance, light in the light; I defire her name. Boyet. She hath but one for her self; to defire That, were a shame. Long. Pray you, Sir, whose daughter ? She is an heir of Faulconbridge. Long. Nay, my choller is ended : She is a most sweet lady. Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be. [Exit Long. Biron. What's her name in the cap? Boyet. Catharine, by good hap. Biron. Is she wedded, or no? Boyet. To her will, Sir, or fo. Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu! Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you. [Exit Biron. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord ; Not a word with him but a jest. Boyet. And every jest but a word. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word. Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board. Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry. Boyet, |