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Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful

prove;

Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.

Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine

eyes;

Where all those pleasures live, that art would

comprehend;

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If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall

suffice;

Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend:

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder;

(Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts

admire)

Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,

Which, not to anger bent, is musick, and sweet fire.

Celestial as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, That sings the heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue!

278

Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratify'd; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing; so doth the hound

E iij

hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But damosella virgin, was this directed to you? 288

Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snow white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written

unto :

Your ladyship's in all desired employment, BIRON. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath fram'd a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarry'd.-Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much: Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu. 303 Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. e.-Sir, God save your life!

Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

[Exeunt Cos. and JAQ. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and as a certain father saith

Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses'; Did they please you, Sir Nathaniel ?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

311

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if (being repast) it shall please

you

you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the aforesaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.

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Nath. And thank you too: for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life.

Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, I do invite you too; [To Dull.] you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recrea[Exeunt.

tion.

SCENE III.

Enter BIRON with a Paper.

Biron. The king is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, Set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well prov'd, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax : it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well prov'd again on my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will not. O, but her eye, by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my

throat.

throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhime, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhime, and here my melancholy. Well, she bath one o' my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in : Here comes one with a paper: God give him grace to groan! [He stands aside.

King. Ay me!

Enter the King.

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Biron. [Aside.] Shot, by heaven !-Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:—I' faith secrets.—

King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives

not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows :
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright

Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light ;
Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep:
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee,

So ridest thou triumphing in my woe;
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will shew:

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But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.

O queen

O queen of queens, how far dost thou excet!

No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.

How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [The King steps aside.

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Enter LONGAVILLE.

What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.

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Biron. [Aside.] Now in thy likeness, one more fool, appear!

Long. Ay me! I am forsworn.

Biron. [Aside.] Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.

King. [Aside.] In love, I hope; sweet fellowship in shame!

Biron. [Aside.] One drunkard loves another of the

name.

Long. [Aside.] Am I the first, that have been perjur'd so?

Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know :

Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner cap of society, The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.

Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to

move:

O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

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