Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies!

Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Biron. What reason have

you for't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next his heart for a favour.

Enter Monsieur MERCADE, a Messenger.

Mer. God save you, madam.

Prin. Welcome, Mercade,

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Mer. I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life!

Mer. Even so my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away! The scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.

King. How fares your majesty?

[Exeunt Worthies.

Prin. Boyet, prepare: I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.

Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,

For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks'
For my great suit so easily obtain❜d.

King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;

And often, at his very loose, decides

That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love

The holy suit which fain it would convince3;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,

As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are double. Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of

grief;

And by these badges understand the king.

For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,—
As love is full of unbefitting strains;

All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;

1

coming Too short of thanks] Thus the 4to; the folio reads "coming so short of thanks," making the adverb so occur three times in two lines.

2 And often, AT HIS VERY LOOSE, decides] "At his very loose, may mean," says Steevens," at the moment of his parting."

3

convince :] i. e. Overcome, or obtain by overcoming.

Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecome our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time.
But more devout than this, in our respects

Have we not been; and therefore met your loves

In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. Long. So did our looks.

Ros.

We did not quote them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.

Full of STRAYING shapes,] All the old copies read-" Full of straying shapes.” Coleridge (Lit. Rem. II. 110,) recommends the substitution of stray for “straying," Malone and others have strange; but it is easy to read “straying,” if necessary, in the time of one syllable.

5 AS BOMBAST, and as lining to the time :] i. e. To fill up the time, as bombast was formerly used to fill up and stuff out dress.

6 But more devout than this, IN our respects] The 4to, 1598, reads,— "But more devout than this, our respects,"

and the folio, 1623,

"But more devout than these are our respects,"

both of which must be wrong. Our text is that suggested by Sir T. Hanmer, which is consistent with the rest of the speech of the Princess. The second folio follows the lection of the first.

Prin.

A time, methinks, too short

To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this.
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,

Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,

I will be thine; and, till that instance, shut
My woful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation,

For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the other's heart.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye.

Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.

Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank 8: You are attaint with faults and perjury;

7

till that INSTANCE,] “Instance" is elsewhere used by Shakespeare for solicitation, and that is the sense here: the folio substitutes instant. The Princess refers to the claim the king is to make of her hand at the end of the year. - your sins are RANK:] "Your sins are rack'd," is the reading of the old editions, and it may be strained to a meaning; but it is more probable that rackt was misprinted for "rank." In Hamlet, A. iii. sc. 3, we have, "O! my offence is rank."

8

Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,

A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Cath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O! shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Cath. Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Come when the king doth to my lady come, Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Cath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. Long. What says Maria?

Mar.
At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you: few taller are so young.
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me:
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love'.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I saw you, and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,

9 But seek the weary beds of people sick.] Thirlby and Warburton suggested, that this and the five preceding lines ought to be omitted, as only an abridgment of what Rosaline says afterwards in answer to Biron. The conjecture is, that they were carelessly left in by the actor-editors; and if they only occurred in the folio of 1623, we might think it more plausible, but they are also found in the 4to. of 1598. Coleridge (Lit. Rem. II. 110,) repeated this opinion, and it ought to be mentioned, although there is no sufficient reason for absolutely expunging the question of Biron, and the answer of Rosaline, from the text. for THY love.] So the 4to the folio reads " for my love."

1