¶In pruning mee when
shall you heare that I will pray
se a
¶ hand, a foote, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
¶a wa
st, a legge, a limme.
¶King. Soft, Whither a way
so fa
st?
1525A true man, or a theefe, that gallops
so.
¶Ber. I po
st from Loue, good Louer let me go.
¶Iaqu. God ble
sse the King.
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
¶King. What pre
sent ha
st thou there?
1530Clow. Some certaine trea
son.
¶King. What makes trea
son heere?
¶Clow. Nay it makes nothing
sir.
¶King. Yf it marr nothing neither,
¶The trea
son and you goe in peace away togeather.
1535Iaque. I be
seech your Grace let this Letter be read,
¶Our per
son mi
sdoubts it: twas trea
son he
said.
¶King. Berowne reade it ouer.
He reades the letter.
¶King. Where had
st thou it?
1540King. Where had
st thou it?
¶Cost. Of
Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
¶Kin. How now, What is in you? Why do
st thou teare it?
¶Ber. A toy my Leedge, a toy: your grace needs not feare it.
1545Long. It did moue him to pa
ssion, & therfore lets heare it.
¶Dum. It is
Berownes writing, and heere is his name.
¶Berow. Ah you whore
son loggerhead, you were borne to
1550Guiltie my Lord, guiltie: I confe
sse, I confe
sse.
¶Ber. That you three fooles, lackt me foole, to make vp the
¶Hee, hee, and you: and you my Leege, and I,
1555Are pick-pur
ses in Loue, and we de
serue to die.
¶O di
smi
sse this audience, and I
shall tell you more.
¶Duma. Now the number is euen.
¶Bero. True true, we are fower: will the
se turtles be gon?
1560King. Hence
sirs, away.
¶Clow. Walke a
side the true folke, and let the traytors
stay.
¶Ber. Sweete Lords,
sweete Louers, O let vs imbrace,
¶As true we are as fle
sh and blood can be,
F1
A pleasant conceited Comedie:
