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Who sent it? and what is it?

Ros.

I would you knew.

And if my face were but as fair as yours,

My favor were as great: be witness this.

Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne;

The numbers true, and, were the numb’ring too,

I were the fairest goddess on the ground.

I am compar’d to twenty thousand fairs.

O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

Prin.

Any thing like?

Ros.

Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.

Prin.

Beauteous as ink—a good conclusion.

Kath.

Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

Ros.

Ware pencils [ho]! let me not die your debtor,

My red dominical, my golden letter:

O that your face were not so full of O’s!

Prin.

A pox of that jest! and I beshrow all shrows.

But, Katherine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?

Kath.

Madam, this glove.

Prin.

Did he not send you twain?

Kath.

Yes, madam, and moreover

Some thousand verses of a faithful lover.

A huge translation of hypocrisy,

Vildly compiled, profound simplicity.

Mar.

This, and these [pearls], to me sent Longaville.