White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee
Berowne, to the Princess
White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Princess, speaking as Rosaline
Honey, and milk, and sugar—there is three.
Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice,
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey. Well run, dice!
There’s half a dozen sweets.
Seventh sweet, adieu.
Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.
One word in secret.
Let it not be sweet.
Thou grievest my gall.
They move aside.