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

Rof. 'Pray you, do my commendations; 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. My phyfick fays, I.

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?

Rof. No poynt, with my knife.

Biron. Now, God fave thy life!

Rof. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.

[Retiring.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that fame ?
Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name.
Dum. A gallant lady! Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit.
Long. I beseech you, a word; What is the in the white?
Boyet. A woman fometimes, an you faw her in the light.
Long. Perchance, light in the light: I defire her name.
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to defire that, were
a shame.

Long. Pray you, fir, whose daughter?

Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's bleffing on your beard!
Boyet. Good fir, be not offended:
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
Long. Nay, my choler is ended.

She is a moft fweet lady.

Biron. You are welcome, fir; adieu!

Boyet. Farewell to me, fir, and welcome to you.

[Exit BIRON. Ladies unmask. Mar. That laft is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;

Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet.

And every jeft 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. Too hot fheeps, marry!

And wherefore not ships?

Boyet. No sheep, fweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You heep, and I pafture; Shall that finish the

jeft?

Not fo, gentle beast;

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. [Offering to kiss her. Mar. My lips are no common, though feveral they be. Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar.

'To my fortunes and me. Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree: The civil war of wits were much better used

On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.
Boyet. If my obfervation, (which very feldom lies,)
By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle, affected.
Prin. Your reafon ?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed:
His tongue all impatient to speak and not fee,
Did ftumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be;

All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair :

Methought, all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ;

Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glafs'd,

Did point you to buy them, along as you pafs'd.
His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes,
That all eyes faw his eyes enchanted with gazes :
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

An you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.
Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is difpos'd-
Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye hath
'difclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Rof. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skil

fully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.

Rof. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

Rivers.del.

Loves labour Lost,

Act.3. Scene.1.

Published Aug 31,1800, by Vernor & Hood, Poultry.

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