Act 4 - Scene 1
Enter the PRINCESS, and her train, a Forester, BOYET, ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE
Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
I know not; but I think it was not he.
Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:
we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the
Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.
Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
What, what? first praise me and again say no?
O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
Yes, madam, fair.
Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this
for telling true:
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
See see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul,
shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it
was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And out of question so it is sometimes,
grows guilty of detested crimes,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the
working of the heart;
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means
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