Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression, some faire excuse Qu. The fairest is confession. Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd? Kin. Madam, I was Qu. And were you well aduis'd? Kin. I was faire Madam Qu. When you then were heere, What did you whisper in your Ladies eare? King. That more then all the world I did respect her Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect her King. Vpon mine Honor no Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare: Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your eare? Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare As precious eye-sight, and did value me Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer, That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord Most honorably doth vphold his word King. What meane you Madame? By my life, my troth I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine, You gaue me this: But take it sir againe King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue, I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare. And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare. What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe? Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine. I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas Comedie. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie, Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd; Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she. Now to our periurie, to adde more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie? And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie? You put our Page out: go, you are alowd. Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd. You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie Wounds like a Leaden sword Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere bene run Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don. Enter Clowne. Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno, Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no