Biron. Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. Arm. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise; Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not uttered by base sale of chapmen's tongues. Act II. Scene I. Long. Ah me! I am forsworn. King. In love, I hope; sweet fellowship in shame! Act IV. Scene II. Arm. Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is remuneration. Hol. Ne intelligis, domine? Priscian a little scratch'd; 'twill serve. Act V. Scene I. |