Kath. Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry. 256
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.
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
