KATHARINE.
Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
ROSALINE.
’Ware pencils, how! Let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter.
O, that your face were not so full of O’s!
PRINCESS.
A pox of that jest! And beshrew all shrews.
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?
KATHARINE.
Madam, this glove.
PRINCESS.
Did he not send you twain?
KATHARINE.
Yes, madam, and moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover.
A huge translation of hypocrisy,
Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.
MARIA.
This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville.
The letter is too long by half a mile.
PRINCESS.
I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The chain were longer and the letter short?
MARIA.
Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
PRINCESS.
We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.