Jaq. Of Costard.
King. Where hadst thou it?
Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
[Berowne tears the letter.]
King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it? 200
Ber. A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.
Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.
Dum. [Picking up the pieces.] It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name.
Ber. [To Costard.] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame. 204
Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess.
King. What?
Ber. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess;
He, he, and you, and you my liege, and I, 208
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.
Ber. True, true; we are four.
Will these turtles be gone?
King. Hence, sirs; away! 212
Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.]
Ber. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O! let us embrace.
As true we are as flesh and blood can be:
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; 216
207 mess: four persons at one table
212 turtles: turtle-doves, lovers
sirs; cf. n.
