_Prin._ Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, Not utter’d 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, 20 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, 25 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, 30 On serious business, craving quick dispatch, Importunes personal conference with his Grace: Haste, signify so much; while we attend, Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will. _Boyet._ Proud of employment, willingly I go. 35 _Prin._ All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. [_Exit Boyet._ Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? _First Lord._ Lord Longaville is one. _Prin._ Know you the man? _Mar._ I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast, 40 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: 45 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 50 It should none spare that come within his power. _Prin._ Some merry mocking lord, belike; is’t so? _Mar._ They say so most that most his humours know. _Prin._ Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest? 55 _Kath._ The young Dumain, a well-accomplish’d youth, Of all that virtue love for virtue loved: 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. 60 I saw him at the Duke Alençon’s once; And much too little of that good I saw Is my report to his great worthiness.