133 Dull. I’ll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play

On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.

Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,

If fairings come thus plentifully in:

003 A lady wall’d about with diamonds!

Look you what I have from the loving king.

005 Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that?

Prin. Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme

As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper,

008 Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all,

That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.

010 Ros. That was the way to make his godhead wax,

011 For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

012 Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

013 Ros. You’ll ne’er be friends with him; a’ kill’d your sister.

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;

015 And so she died: had she been light, like you,

Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,

017 She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died:

And so may you; for a light heart lives long.

Ros. What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

020 Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark.

Ros. We need more light to find your meaning out.

Kath. You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff;

Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.

Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i’ th’ dark.

025 Kath. So do not you, for you are a light wench.

Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.

Kath. You weigh me not?—O, that’s you care not for me.

028 Ros. Great reason; for ‘past cure is still past care.’

Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.

030 But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:

Who sent it? and what is it?

I would you knew:

An if my face were but as fair as yours,

My favour were as great; be witness this.

Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:

035 The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,

I were the fairest goddess on the ground:

I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.

O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

Prin. Any thing like?

040 Ros. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

041 Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

042 Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

043 Ros. ’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,

My red dominical, my golden letter:

045 O that your face were not so full of O’s!

046 Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.

047 Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

Kath. Madam, this glove.

Did he not send you twain?

049 Kath. Yes, madam, and, moreover,

050 Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,

051 A huge translation of hypocrisy,

Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

053 Mar. This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:

The letter is too long by half a mile.

055 Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart

The chain were longer and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

058 Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.

060 That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go:

O that I knew he were but in by the week!

How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,

And wait the season, and observe the times,

And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes,

065 And shape his service wholly to my hests,

066 And make him proud to make me proud that jests!

067 So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state,

That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,

070 As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d,

Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school,

072 And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.

Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such excess

074 As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.

075 Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note

As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;

Since all the power thereof it doth apply

To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

079 Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

Enter Boyet.

080 Boyet. O, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her Grace?

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

Prepare, madam, prepare!

082 Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are

Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,

Armed in arguments; you’ll be surprised:

085 Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;

Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

088 That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.

089 Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore

090 I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;

When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,

Toward that shade I might behold addrest

093 The king and his companions: warily

I stole into a neighbour thicket by,

095 And overheard what you shall overhear;

096 That, by and by, disguised they will be here.

Their herald is a pretty knavish page,

That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage:

Action and accent did they teach him there;

100 ‘Thus must thou speak,’ and ‘thus thy body bear:’

And ever and anon they made a doubt

Presence majestical would put him out;

103 ‘For,’ quoth the king, ‘an angel shalt thou see;

Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’

105 The boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil;

I should have fear’d her, had she been a devil.’

With that, all laugh’d, and clapp’d him on the shoulder,

Making the bold wag by their praises bolder:

One rubb’d his elbow thus, and fleer’d and swore

110 A better speech was never spoke before;

Another, with his finger and his thumb,

Cried, ‘Via! we will do’t, come what will come;’

The third he caper’d, and cried, ‘All goes well;’

The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell.

115 With that, they all did tumble on the ground,

With such a zealous laughter, so profound,

That in this spleen ridiculous appears,

118 To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.

Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?

120 Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparell’d thus,

121 Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.

122 Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance;

123 And every one his love-feat will advance

Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know

125 By favours several which they did bestow.

Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task’d;

For, ladies, we will every one be mask’d;

And not a man of them shall have the grace,

Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face.

130 Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,

And then the king will court thee for his dear;

Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,

So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.

134 And change you favours too; so shall your loves

135 Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.

Ros. Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight.

Kath. But in this changing what is your intent?

Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:

139 They do it but in mocking merriment;

140 And mock for mock is only my intent.

Their several counsels they unbosom shall

To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal

Upon the next occasion that we meet,

With visages display’d, to talk and greet.

145 Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t?

Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a foot:

Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace;

148 But while ’tis spoke each turn away her face.

149 Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,

150 And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt

152 The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out.

There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown;

To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:

155 So shall we stay, mocking intended game,

156 And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame. [Trumpets sound within.

157 Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask.

Enter Blackamoors with music; Moth; the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in Russian habits, and masked.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—

159 Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

160 Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames [The Ladies turn their backs to him.

That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views!

Biron. [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

163 Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!—

Out—

164 Boyet. True; out indeed.

165 Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe

Not to behold—

Biron. [Aside to Moth] Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,

—with your sun-beamed eyes—

170 Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet;

You were best call it ‘daughter-beamed eyes.’

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.

173 Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! [Exit Moth.

174 Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:

175 If they do speak our language, ’tis our will

That some plain man recount their purposes:

177 Know what they would.

178 Boyet. What would you with the princess?

Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

180 Ros. What would they, say they?

181 Boyet. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.

Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.

King. Say to her, we have measured many miles

185 To tread a measure with her on this grass.

Boyet. They say, that they have measured many a mile

187 To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many inches

Is in one mile: if they have measured many,

190 The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measured miles,

And many miles, the princess bids you tell

193 How many inches doth fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

Boyet. She hears herself.

195 How many weary steps,

Of many weary miles you have o’ergone,

Are number’d in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you:

Our duty is so rich, so infinite,

200 That we may do it still without accompt.

Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,

That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.

King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!

205 Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,

Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;

208 Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water.

209 King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.

210 Thou bid’st me beg: this begging is not strange.

Ros. Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays.

212 Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.

King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?

Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.

215 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.

216 The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.

But your legs should do it.

Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,

We’ll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.

220 King. Why take we hands, then?

Only to part friends:

Curtsey, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.

Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.

224 King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your company?

Ros. Your absence only.

225 That can never be.

Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu;

Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.

Ros. In private, then.

229 I am best pleased with that. [They converse apart.

230 Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

232 Biron. 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:

235 Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.

Biron. One word in secret.

Let it not be sweet.

Biron. Thou grievest my gall.

237 Gall! bitter.

Therefore meet. [They converse apart.

Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

Mar. Name it.

Fair lady,—

Say you so? Fair lord,—

240 Take that for your fair lady.

Please it you,

As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. [They converse apart.

242 Kath. What, was your vizard made without a tongue?

Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

Kath. O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.

245 Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,

And would afford my speechless vizard half.

247 Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not ‘veal’ a calf?

Long. A calf, fair lady!

No, a fair lord calf.

Long. Let’s part the word.

No, I’ll not be your half:

250 Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

251 Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.

Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.

Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.

255 Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart.

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

257 As is the razor’s edge invisible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

259 Above the sense of sense; so sensible

260 Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings

261 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.

263 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!

264 King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

265 Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors.

Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?

Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d out.

Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

269 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!

270 Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night?

Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces?

This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.

273 Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases!

The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

275 Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword:

No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart;

And trow you what he call’d me?

Qualm, perhaps.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.

280 Go, sickness as thou art!

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.

But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.

Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.

285 Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.

Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:

Immediately they will again be here

In their own shapes; for it can never be

289 They will digest this harsh indignity.

Prin. Will they return?

290 They will, they will, God knows,

And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:

Therefore change favours; and, when they repair,

Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.

295 Boyet. Fair ladies mask’d are roses in their bud;

296 Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown,

297 Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,

If they return in their own shapes to woo?

300 Ros. Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised,

Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised:

Let us complain to them what fools were here,

Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;

And wonder what they were and to what end

305 Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn’d,

And their rough carriage so ridiculous,

307 Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.

309 Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o’er land. [Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria.

Re-enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits.

310 King. Fair sir, God save you! Where’s the princess?

Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty

312 Command me any service to her thither?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit.

315 Biron. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,

316 And utters it again when God doth please:

He is wit’s pedler, and retails his wares

At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;

And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,

320 Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;

Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve;

323 A’ can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he

324 That kiss’d his hand away in courtesy;

325 This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,

That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice

In honourable terms: nay, he can sing

328 A mean most meanly; and in ushering,

Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet;

330 The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:

331 This is the flower that smiles on every one,

332 To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone;

333 And consciences, that will not die in debt,

334 Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

335 King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,

That put Armado’s page out of his part!

337 Biron. See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou

338 Till this madman show’d thee? and what art thou now?

Re-enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; Rosaline, Maria, and Katharin..

King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

340 Prin. ‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive.

341 King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.

Prin. Then wish me better; I will give you leave.

343 King. We came to visit you, and purpose now

To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.

345 Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:

346 Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.

King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:

348 The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;

350 For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth.

Now by my maiden honour yet as pure

352 As the unsullied lily I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,

I would not yield to be your house’s guest;

355 So much I hate a breaking cause to be

356 Of heavenly oaths, vow’d with integrity.

King. O, you have lived in desolation here,

Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;

360 We have had pastimes here and pleasant game:

A mess of Russians left us but of late.

King. How, madam! Russians!

Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord:

365 My lady, to the manner of the days,

In courtesy gives undeserving praise.

We four indeed confronted were with four

368 In Russian habit: here they stay’d an hour,

And talk’d apace; and in that hour, my lord,

370 They did not bless us with one happy word.

I dare not call them fools; but this I think,

When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

373 Biron. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet,

374 Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,

375 With eyes best seeing, heaven’s fiery eye,

By light we lose light: your capacity

Is of that nature that to your huge store

Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.

379 Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye,—

380 Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,

It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess!

Ros. All the fool mine?

I cannot give you less.

385 Ros. Which of the vizards was it that you wore?

Biron. Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?

Ros. There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case

That hid the worse, and show’d the better face.

King. We are descried; they’ll mock us now downright.

390 Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.

Prin. Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?

392 Ros. Help, hold his brows! he’ll swound! Why look you pale?

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.

395 Can any face of brass hold longer out?

396 Here stand I: lady, dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;

Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;

Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;

400 And I will wish thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Russian habit wait.

O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d,

Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue;

404 Nor never come in vizard to my friend;

405 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song!

Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,

407 Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,

Figures pedantical; these summer-flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:

410 I do forswear them; and I here protest,

By this white glove,—how white the hand, God knows!—

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d

In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:

And, to begin, wench,—so God help me, la!—

415 My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.

Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage:—bear with me, I am sick;

I’ll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:

Write, ‘Lord have mercy on us’ on those three;

420 They are infected; in their hearts it lies;

421 They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;

These lords are visited; you are not free,

For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.

425 Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.

Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,

That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Biron. Peace! for I will not have to do with you.

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

430 Biron. Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.

King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression

Some fair excuse.

The fairest is confession.

433 Were not you here but even now disguised?

King. Madam, I was.

And were you well advised?

King. I was, fair madam.

435 When you then were here,

What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?

King. That more than all the world I did respect her.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

439 King. Upon mine honour, no.

Peace, peace! forbear:

440 Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.

Prin. I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,

What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear

445 As precious eyesight, and did value me

446 Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,

That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord

Most honourably doth uphold his word.

450 King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.

Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,

You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

454 King. My faith and this the princess I did give:

455 I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;

And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.

What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.

460 I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,

Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To dash it like a Christmas comedy:

463 Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,

Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,

465 That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick

To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,

Told our intents before; which once disclosed,

The ladies did change favours; and then we,

Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.

470 Now, to our perjury to add more terror,

We are again forsworn, in will and error.

472 Much upon this it is: and might not you [To Boyet.

Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?

474 Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,

475 And laugh upon the apple of her eye?

And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,

Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

478 You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;

Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.

480 You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye

481 Wounds like a leaden sword.

Full merrily

482 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.

Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.

Enter Costard.

484 Welcome, pure wit! thou part’st a fair fray.

485 Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Biron. What, are there but three?

487 No, sir; but it is vara fine,

488 For every one pursents three.

And three times thrice is nine.

Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so.

490 You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know:

491 I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—

Biron. Is not nine.

Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

495 Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, 500 will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I 501 am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies?

504 Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion 505 the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

Biron. Go, bid them prepare.

Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [Exit.

King. Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.

510 Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and ’tis some policy

511 To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.

King. I say they shall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:

514 That sport best pleases that doth least know how:

515 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents

Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:

Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,

517 When great things labouring perish in their birth.

Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.