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Within the limit of becoming mirth,

I never spent an hour’s talk withal.

His eye begets occasion for his wit,

For every object that the one doth catch

The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,

Which his fair tongue, conceit’s expositor,

Delivers in such apt and gracious words

That aged ears play truant at his tales,

And younger hearings are quite ravished,

So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Prin.

God bless my ladies! are they all in love,

That every one her own hath garnished

With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

[1.] Lord.

Here comes Boyet.

Enter Boyet.

Prin.

Now, what admittance, lord?

Boyet.

Navarre had notice of your fair approach,

And he and his competitors in oath

Were all address’d to meet you, gentle lady,

Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt:

He rather means to lodge you in the field,

Like one that comes here to besiege his court,

Than seek a dispensation for his oath,

To let you enter his [unpeopled] house.

Enter [Ferdinand, King of] Navarre, Longaville, Dumaine, and Berowne, [and Attendants].