[195] Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. [Biron tears the letter.
[196] King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.
Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let’s hear it.
[199] Dum. It is Biron’s writing, and here is his name. [Gathering up the pieces.
200 Biron. [To Costard] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! you were born to do me shame.
[201] Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.
King. What?
Biron. That you three fools lack’d me fool to make up the mess:
[204] He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I,