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She is a most sweet lady.

Boyet.

Not unlike, sir, that may be.

Exit Longaville.

Enter Berowne.

Ber.

What’s her name in the cap?

Boyet.

[Rosaline,] by good hap.

Ber.

Is she wedded or no?

Boyet.

To her will, sir, or so.

Ber.

O, you are welcome, sir, adieu.

Boyet.

Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.

Exit Berowne.

Mar.

That last is Berowne, the merry madcap lord.

Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet.

And every jest but a word.

Prin.

It was well done of you to take him at his word.

Boyet.

I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.

Kath.

Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet.

And wherefore not ships?

No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.

[Kath.]

You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?

Boyet.

So you grant pasture for me.

[Offering to kiss her.]

[Kath.]

Not so, gentle beast.

My lips are no common, though several they be.

Boyet.

Belonging to whom?

[Kath.]

To my fortunes and me.

Prin.

Good wits will be jangling, but, gentles, agree: