Act II, Scene i: The King of Navarre's park. A pavilion and tents at a
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits: | |
| | Consider who the king your father sends, | |
| | To whom he sends, and what's his embassy: | |
| | Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem, | |
| | To parley with the sole inheritor | |
| | Of all perfections that a man may owe, | |
| | Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight | |
| | Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. | |
| | Be now as prodigal of all dear grace | |
| | As Nature was in making graces dear | |
| | When she did starve the general world beside, | |
| | And prodigally gave them all to you. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, | |
| | Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: | |
| | Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, | |
| | Not utt'red by base sale of chapmen's tongues. | |
| | I am less proud to hear you tell my worth | |
| | Than you much willing to be counted wise | |
| | In spending your wit in the praise of mine. | |
| | But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, | |
| | You are not ignorant, all-telling fame | |
| | Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, | |
| | Till painful study shall outwear three years, | |
| | No woman may approach his silent court: | |
| | Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course, | |
| | Before we enter his forbidden gates, | |
| | To know his pleasure; and in that behalf, | |
| | Bold of your worthiness, we single you | |
| | As our best-moving fair solicitor. | |
| | Tell him the daughter of the King of France, | |
| | On serious business, craving quick dispatch, | |
| | Importunes personal conference with his Grace. | |
| | Haste, signify so much; while we attend, | |
| | Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Proud of employment, willingly I go. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. | |
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| | Who are the votaries, my loving lords, | |
| | That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Know you the man? | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | I know him, madam: at a marriage feast, | |
| | Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir | |
| | Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized | |
| | In Normandy, saw I this Longaville. | |
| | A man of sovereign parts, he is esteem'd, | |
| | Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms: | |
| | Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. | |
| | The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,— | |
| | If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,— | |
| | Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will; | |
| | Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills | |
| | It should none spare that come within his power. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | They say so most that most his humours know. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. | |
| | Who are the rest? | |
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| | KATHARINE: | |
| | The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, | |
| | Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd; | |
| | Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill, | |
| | For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, | |
| | And shape to win grace though he had no wit. | |
| | I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once; | |
| | And much too little of that good I saw | |
| | Is my report to his great worthiness. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Another of these students at that time | |
| | Was there with him, if I have heard a truth: | |
| | Berowne they call him; but a merrier man, | |
| | Within the limit of becoming mirth, | |
| | I never spent an hour's talk withal. | |
| | His eye begets occasion for his wit, | |
| | For every object that the one doth catch | |
| | The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, | |
| | Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, | |
| | Delivers in such apt and gracious words | |
| | That aged ears play truant at his tales, | |
| | And younger hearings are quite ravished; | |
| | So sweet and voluble is his discourse. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | God bless my ladies! Are they all in love, | |
| | That every one her own hath garnished | |
| | With such bedecking ornaments of praise? | |
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| | FIRST LORD: | |
| | Here comes Boyet. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Now, what admittance, lord? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Navarre had notice of your fair approach, | |
| | And he and his competitors in oath | |
| | Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady, | |
| | Before I came. Marry, thus much I have 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 unpeeled house. | |
| | Here comes Navarre. | |
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[Enter KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAINE, BEROWNE, and ATTENDANTS.]
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| | KING: | |
| | Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | I will be welcome then: conduct me thither. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. | |
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| | 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 teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. | |
| | Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, | |
| | And suddenly resolve me in my suit. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | You will the sooner that I were away, | |
| | For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me stay. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | How needless was it then | |
| | To ask the question! | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | You must not be so quick. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | 'Tis long of you, that spur me with such questions. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Not till it leave the rider in the mire. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | What time o' day? | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | The hour that fools should ask. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Now fair befall your mask! | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Fair fall the face it covers! | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | And send you many lovers! | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Amen, so you be none. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Nay, then will I be gone. | |
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| | 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 remains unpaid | |
| | A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which, | |
| | One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, | |
| | Although 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 Aquitaine, | |
| | And hold fair friendship with his majesty. | |
| | But that, it seems, he little purposeth, | |
| | For here he doth demand to have repaid | |
| | A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, | |
| | On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, | |
| | To have his title live in Aquitaine; | |
| | Which we much rather had depart withal, | |
| | And have the money by our father lent, | |
| | Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is. | |
| | Dear Princess, were not his requests so far | |
| | From reason's yielding, your fair self should make | |
| | A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, | |
| | And go well satisfied to France again. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | You do the king my father too much wrong, | |
| | And wrong the reputation of your name, | |
| | In so unseeming to confess receipt | |
| | Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | I do protest I never heard of it; | |
| | And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back | |
| | Or yield up Aquitaine. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | We arrest your word. | |
| | Boyet, you can produce acquittances | |
| | For such a sum from special officers | |
| | Of Charles his father. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | KING: | |
| | It shall suffice me; at which interview | |
| | All liberal reason I will yield unto. | |
| | Meantime 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 receiv'd | |
| | As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, | |
| | Though so denied fair harbour in my house. | |
| | Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell: | |
| | To-morrow shall we visit you again. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace! | |
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| | KING: | |
| | Thy own wish wish I thee in every place. | |
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[Exeunt KING and his Train.]
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | I would you heard it groan. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Is the fool sick? | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Sick at the heart. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Alack! let it blood. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Would that do it good? | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | My physic says 'ay.' | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Will you prick't with your eye? | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | No point, with my knife. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Now, God save thy life! | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | And yours from long living! | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | I cannot stay thanksgiving. | |
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| | DUMAINE: | |
| | Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | The heir of Alencon, Katharine her name. | |
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| | DUMAINE: | |
| | A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well. | |
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| | LONGAVILLE: | |
| | I beseech you a word: what is she in the white? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light. | |
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| | LONGAVILLE: | |
| | Perchance light in the light. I desire her name. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame. | |
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| | LONGAVILLE: | |
| | Pray you, sir, whose daughter? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Her mother's, I have heard. | |
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| | LONGAVILLE: | |
| | God's blessing on your beard! | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Good sir, be not offended. | |
| | She is an heir of Falconbridge. | |
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| | LONGAVILLE: | |
| | Nay, my choler is ended. | |
| | She is a most sweet lady. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Not unlike, sir; that may be. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | What's her name in the cap? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Rosaline, by good hap. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | Is she wedded or no? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | To her will, sir, or so. | |
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| | BEROWNE: | |
| | You are welcome, sir. Adieu! | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. | |
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[Exit BEROWNE.—LADIES unmask.]
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| | MARIA: | |
| | That last is Berowne, the merry mad-cap lord; | |
| | Not a word with him but a jest. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | And every jest but a word. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | It was well done of you to take him at his word. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | I was as willing to grapple as he was to board. | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | Two hot sheeps, marry! | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | And wherefore not ships? | |
| | No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | You sheep and I pasture: shall that finish the jest? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | So you grant pasture for me. | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | Not so, gentle beast. | |
| | My lips are no common, though several they be. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Belonging to whom? | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | To my fortunes and me. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree; | |
| | This civil war of wits were much better us'd | |
| | On Navarre and his book-men, for here 'tis abus'd. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | If my observation,—which very seldom lies, | |
| | By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, | |
| | Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | With that which we lovers entitle affected. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Why, all his behaviours did make their retire | |
| | To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire; | |
| | His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd, | |
| | Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd; | |
| | His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, | |
| | Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; | |
| | All senses to that sense did make their repair, | |
| | To feel only looking on fairest of fair. | |
| | Methought all his senses 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 glass'd, | |
| | Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. | |
| | His face's own margent did quote such amazes | |
| | That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. | |
| | I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his, | |
| | An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. | |
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| | PRINCESS: | |
| | Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd. | |
| | I only have made a mouth of his eye, | |
| | By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully. | |
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| | MARIA: | |
| | He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | Do you hear, my mad wenches? | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | What, then, do you see? | |
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| | ROSALINE: | |
| | Ay, our way to be gone. | |
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| | BOYET: | |
| | You are too hard for me. | |
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