Shakespeare's First Folio - BestLightNovel.com
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Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance.
I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping: 'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord, And sinne to breake it: But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold, To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming, And sodainly resolue me in my suite
Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may
Prin. You will the sooner that I were away, For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay
Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Ber. I know you did
Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question?
Ber. You must not be so quicke
Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions
Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire
Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire
Ber. What time a day?
Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske
Ber. Now faire befall your maske
Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers
Ber. And send you many louers
Rosa. Amen, so you be none
Ber. Nay then will I be gone
Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate, The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe, Disbursed by my father in his warres.
But say that he, or we, as neither haue Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs, Although not valued to the moneys worth.
If then the King your father will restore But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied, We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine, And hold faire friends.h.i.+p with his Maiestie: But that it seemes he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to haue repaie, An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, To haue his t.i.tle liue in Aquitaine.
Which we much rather had depart withall, And haue the money by our father lent, Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.
Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest, And goe well satisfied to France againe
Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so vnseeming to confesse receyt Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid
Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it, And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe, Or yeeld vp Aquitaine
Prin. We arrest your word: Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a summe, from speciall Officers, Of Charles his Father
Kin. Satisfie me so
Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound, To morrow you shall haue a sight of them
Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview, All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto: Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand, As honour, without breach of Honour may Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse.
You may not come faire Princesse in my gates, But heere without you shall be so receiu'd, As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart, Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house: Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell, To morrow we shall visit you againe
Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace
Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place.
Enter.
Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart
La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations, I would be glad to see it
Boy. I would you heard it grone
La.Ro. Is the soule sicke?
Boy. Sicke at the heart
La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud
Boy. Would that doe it good?
La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I
Boy. Will you p.r.i.c.k't with your eye
La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife
Boy. Now G.o.d saue thy life
La.Ro. And yours from long liuing
Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.
Enter.
Enter Dumane.
Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?
Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name
Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well
Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light
Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name
Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe, To desire that were a shame
Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter?
Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard
