Love's Labour's Lost By William Shakespeare Act V: Scene 2

BOYET.
Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

MOTH.
'A holy parcel of the fairest dames

[The LADIES turn their backs to him.]

That ever turn'd their — backs — to mortal views!

BEROWNE.
'Their eyes,' villain, 'their eyes.'

MOTH.
'That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views!
Out' —

BOYET.
True; 'out,' indeed.

MOTH.
'Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
Not to behold' —

BEROWNE.
'Once to behold,' rogue.

MOTH.
'Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes — with your
sun-beamed eyes' —

BOYET.
They will not answer to that epithet;
You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes.'

MOTH.
They do not mark me, and that brings me out.

BEROWNE.
Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue.

[Exit MOTH.]

ROSALINE.
What would these strangers? Know their minds, Boyet.
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes:
Know what they would.

BOYET.
What would you with the princess?

BEROWNE.
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

ROSALINE.
What would they, say they?

BOYET.
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

ROSALINE.
Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.

BOYET.
She says you have it, and you may be gone.

KING.
Say to her we have measur'd many miles
To tread a measure with her on this grass.

BOYET.
They say that they have measur'd many a mile
To tread a measure with you on this grass.

ROSALINE.
It is not so. Ask them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they have measured many,
The measure then of one is easily told.

BOYET.
If to come hither you have measur'd miles,
And many miles, the Princess bids you tell
How many inches doth fill up one mile.

BEROWNE.
Tell her we measure them by weary steps.

BOYET.
She hears herself.

ROSALINE.
How many weary steps
Of many weary miles you have o'ergone
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

BEROWNE.
We number nothing that we spend for you;
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.

ROSALINE.
My face is but a moon, and clouded too.

KING.
Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,
Those clouds remov'd, upon our watery eyne.

ROSALINE.
O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
Thou now requests'st but moonshine in the water.

KING.
Then in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.
Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange.

ROSALINE.
Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon.

[Music plays.]

Not yet! No dance! thus change I like the moon.

KING.
Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?

ROSALINE.
You took the moon at full; but now she's chang'd.

KING.
Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

ROSALINE.
Our ears vouchsafe it.

KING.
But your legs should do it.

ROSALINE.
Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
We'll not be nice: take hands; we will not dance.

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