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As fool’ry in the wise, when wit doth dote,

Since all the power thereof it doth apply

To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Enter Boyet.

Prin.

Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

Boyet.

O, I am [stabb’d] with laughter! Where’s her Grace?

Prin.

Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet.

Prepare, madam, prepare!

Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are

Against your peace. Love doth approach disguis’d,

Armed in arguments—you’ll be surpris’d.

Muster your wits, stand in your own defense,

Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Prin.

Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say.

Boyet.

Under the cool shade of a sycamore

I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;

When lo, to interrupt my purpos’d rest,

Toward that shade I might behold address’d

The King and his companions. Warily

I stole into a neighbor thicket by,

And overheard what you shall overhear:

That by and by disguis’d [they] will be here.

Their herald is a pretty knavish page,