Kath. Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry. 256
[They converse apart.]
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen,
Above the sense of sense; so sensible 260
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
Ros. Not one word more, my maids: break off, break off.
Ber. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! 264
King. Farewell, mad wenches: you have simple wits.
Exeunt [King and Lords].
Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. 268
Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night?
Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces? 272
This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.
Ros. They were all in lamentable cases.
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin. Berowne did swear himself out of all suit. 276
Mar. Dumaine was at my service, and his sword:
'No point,' quoth I: my servant straight was mute.
Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
260 sense of sense: i.e. perception
sensible: sensitive
261 conference: conversation
conceits: fancies
264 dry-beaten: cudgeled
269 Well-liking: plump
270 kingly-poor flout: a fling poor for a king
275 weeping-ripe for: ready to weep for want of
278 No point; cf. II. i. 188
