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You chide at him, offending twice as much.

You do not love Maria? Longaville

Did never sonnet for her sake compile,

Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart

His loving bosom to keep down his heart.

I have been closely shrouded in this bush

And mark’d you both, and for you both did blush.

I heard your guilty rhymes, observ’d your fashion,

Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion.

“Ay me!” says one, “O Jove!” the other cries;

One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other’s eyes.

[To Longaville.]

You would for paradise break faith and troth,

[To Dumaine.]

And Jove for your love would infringe an oath.

What will Berowne say when that he shall hear

Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?

How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!

How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it!

For all the wealth that ever I did see,

I would not have him know so much by me.

Ber.

Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.

[Descending and advancing.]

Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me!

Good heart, what grace hast thou thus to reprove