BIRON
Fit in his place and time.
DUMAIN
In reason nothing.
BIRON
Something then in rhyme.
FERDINAND
Biron is like an envious sneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
BIRON
Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast
Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, to study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate.
FERDINAND
Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: adieu.
BIRON
No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:
And though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore
And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper; let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
FERDINAND
How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
BIRON
[Reads] 'Item, That no woman shall come within a
mile of my court:' Hath this been proclaimed?
LONGAVILLE
Four days ago.
BIRON
Let's see the penalty.
Reads
'On pain of losing her tongue.' Who devised this penalty?
LONGAVILLE
Marry, that did I.