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Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack! my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn":
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were ;
And deny himself for Jove,

Turning mortal for thy love.
This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
0, would the King, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.
Long. [Advancing.] Dumaine, thy love is far from

charity,
That in love's grief desir’st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o’erheard, and taken napping so.
King. [Advancing.] Come, sir, you blush ; as his

your case is such ;
You chide at him, offending twice as much :
You do not love Maria ; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion,

from thy THORN :) The old editions have throne for “thorn," which was ordinarily spelt with a final e. It was therefore an easy misprint, corrected in “ England's Helicon,” 4to, 1600. In a previous line, “ England's Helicon” corrects wish to “ wish'd."

7

Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To Long,
And Jove for your love would infringe an oath.

[To DUMAINE.
What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit !
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it!
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me.
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.-

[Descends from the tree. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me: Good heart! what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These worms for loving, that art most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches 8; in your tears There is no certain princess that appears: You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing: Tush! none but minstrels like of sonneting. But are you not asham'd ? nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? You found his mote; the king your mote did see; But I a beam do find in each of three. O! what a scene of foolery have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen! O me! with what strict patience have I sat, To see a king transformed to a gnat! To see great Hercules whipping a gig, And profound Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! Where lies thy grief? O! tell me, good Dumaine : And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?

B — no COACHES ;) Couches, in the old copies, 4to. and folio. Lower down, the folio has tuning for “ to tune" in the 4to. VOL. II.

z

And where my liege's ? all about the breast :-
A caudle, ho!!
King.

Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you:
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in ;
I am betray'd, by keeping company
With men, like men of strange inconstancy '.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for love'? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?-
King.

Soft! Whither away so fast ?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go.

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.
Jaq. God bless the king !
King.

What present hast thou there? Cost. Some certain treason.

9 A CAUDLE, ho !] Misprinted in the folio, 1623, and in the three others, “A candle, ho !” The 4to, 1598, has it correctly, “A caudle, ho !"

10 With men, like men of strange inconstancy.] Such is the reading of the second folio, which inserts“ strange” to cure the defect in the line as it stands in the 4to, 1598, and folio, 1623,

“ With men like men, of inconstancy.” The second folio is probably right; but considering the state of mind in which Biron pretends to be, we might perhaps read

“With men, like women of inconstancy;" a syllable only having dropped out. Malone printed it “ With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy,” but this change is quite needless.

· Or groan for Love?] Here we see a curious illustration of the advantage of being able to refer to different copies of the same edition of the same play. The 4to, 1598, belonging to Lord Francis Egerton, has “ Or grone for Tone," quite distinctly printed; while that of the Duke of Devonshire has, as distinctly, “Or grone for Lore,” the word "love" being printed with a capital letter in order to make the matter quite clear. The correction must have been made while the sheet was passing through the press. The folios adopt the misprint, and the modern editors have followed them. It also stands “grone for Joane," in the reprint of this play in 1631, 4to, which was made from the folio, 1623.

King.

What makes treason here?
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
King.

If it mar nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.

Jag. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read: Our

parson misdoubts it ; 'twas treason, he said. King. Biron, read it over. [Biron reads the letter. Where had'st thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.
King. Where had’st thou it?
Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
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. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name.

[Picking up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! [To COSTARD.]

you were born to do me shame.Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.

King. What?
Biron. That you three fools lack'd me, fool, to make

up

the mess.
He, he, and you, and you my liege, and I,
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O! dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.

Dum. Now the number is even.
Biron.

True, true; we are four.-
Will these turtles be gone?
King.

Hence, sirs; away! Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors

stay. [Exeunt CoSTARD and JAQUENETTA. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O! let us embrace.

As true we are, as flesh and blood can be : The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face ? ;

heaven show his face ;] So the 4to ; the folio, “heaven will show his

Young blood doth not obey an old decree: We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of

thine? Biron. Did they? quoth you. Who sees the heavenly

Rosaline,
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head; and, stricken blind,

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ? What peremptory, eagle-sighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty?

King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir’d thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon,

She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron.

O! but for my love, day would turn to night. Of all complexions the cull’d sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity,

Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,

Fie, painted rhetoric ! O! she needs it not: To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;

She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,

Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy.
O! 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine!

King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine ?!

face.” In the next line but one the folio has “ we are born," instead of “we were born."

3 O wood divine !) The old copies, by a misprint, read, " () word divine." It was Theobald's correction.

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