LONGAVILLE
Let's part the word.
KATHARINE
No, I'll not be your half
Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.
LONGAVILLE
Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
KATHARINE
Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
LONGAVILLE
One word in private with you, ere I die.
KATHARINE
Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry.
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
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
ROSALINE
Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
BIRON
By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
FERDINAND
Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
PRINCESS
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
Exeunt FERDINAND, Lords, and Blackamoors
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
BOYET
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.