Page 2467 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2467
By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
KING
Farewell, mad wenches. You have simple wits.
Exeunt the King, lords, and blackamoors.
PRINCESS
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [265]
Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?
BOY ET
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out.
ROSALINE
Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
PRINCESS
O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight? [270]
Or ever but in visors show their faces?
This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.
ROSALINE
They were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
PRINCESS
Berowne did swear himself out of all suit. [275]
MARIA
Dumaine was at my service, and his sword.
‘Non point’, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.
KAT HARINE
Lord Longaville said I came o’er his heart;
And trow you what he called me?
PRINCESS
Qualm, perhaps.
