_Ros._ Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 120 _Biron._ What time o’ day? _Ros._ The hour that fools should ask. _Biron._ Now fair befall your mask! _Ros._ Fair fall the face it covers! _Biron._ And send you many lovers! 125 _Ros._ Amen, so you be none. _Biron._ Nay, then will I be gone. _King._ Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one half of an entire sum 130 Disbursed by my father in his wars. But say that he or we, as neither have, Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, 135 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. 140 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; 145 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 150 A yielding, ’gainst some reason, in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again. _Prin._ You do the king my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so unseeming to confess receipt 155 Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. _King._ I do protest I never heard of it; And if you prove it, I’ll repay it back, Or yield up Aquitaine. _Prin._ We arrest your word. Boyet, you can produce acquittances 160 For such a sum from special officers Of Charles his father. _King._ Satisfy me so. _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. 165 _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: 170 You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; But here without you shall be so received As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart, Though so denied fair harbour in my house. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell: 175 To-morrow shall we visit you again. _Prin._ Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace! _King._ Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [_Exit._ _Biron._ Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.