Biron. This jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle, fweet, Your wit makes wife things foolish; when we greet With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,

By light we lofe light; your capacity

Is of that nature, as to your huge store

Wife things feem foolish, and rich things but poor. Rof. This proves you wife and rich; for in my

eye

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

Rof. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to fnatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I poffefs.
Rof. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you lefs.

Rof. Which of the vizors was it, that you wore ? Biron. Where? when? what vizor? why demand you this?

Rof. There, then, that vizor, that superfluous Case, That hid the worse, and fhew'd the better face.

King. We are defcried; they'll mock us now downright,

Dum. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jeft.

Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your Highness fad?

Rof. Help, hold his brows, he'll fwoon: why look you pale?

Sea-fick, I think, coming from Mufcovy.

Biron, Thus pour the ftars down plagues for Perjury.

Can any face of brafs hold longer out?

Here ftand I, lady, dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout ; Thrust thy fharp wit quite through my ignorance; Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;

And I will wifh thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Ruffian habit wait.

This is a very lofty and elegant compliment.

O! ne

O! never will I trust to speeches penn❜d,

Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue ; · Nor never come in vizor to my friend,

Nor woo in rhime, like a blind harper's fong, Taffata-phrafes, filken terms precife,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation, Figures pedantical, thefe fummer-flies,

Have blown me full of maggot oftentation: I do forfwear them; and I here proteft,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God
knows!)

Henceforth my wooing mind fhall be exprest
In ruffet yeas, and honeft kerfy noes:
And to begin, wench, (fo God help me, law!)
My love to thee is found, fans crack or flaw.
Rof. Sans, fans, I pray you.

Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage: bear with me, I am fick.
I'll leave it by degrees: foft, let us fee;
Write', Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;
Thefe lords are vifited, you are not free;

For the lord's tokens on you both I fee.

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

to us.

2

Biron. Our states are forfeit, feek not to undo us. Rof. It is not fo; for how can this be true 2, That you ftand forfeit, being those that fue? Biron. Peace, for I will not have to do with you. Rof.

Rof. Nor fhall not, if I do as I intend.

Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, fweet Madam, for our rude tranfgreffion

Some fair excufe.

Prin. The fairest is confeffion.

Were you not here, but even now, difguis'd?

King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advis'd?

King. I was, fair Madam.

Prin. 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 the fhall challenge this, you will res ject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin. Peace, peece, forbear. :

Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear 3. King. Defpife me, when I break this oath of mine. Prin. I will, and therefore keep it. Rofaline," What did the Ruffian whisper in your ear?

Rof. Madam, he fwore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-fight; and did value me Above this world; adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or elfe die my lover. Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Moft honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my troth,

I never fwore this lady fuch an oath.

Rof. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this; but take it, Sir, again.

jeft lies in the ambiguity of fue, which fignifies to profecute by law, or to offer a petition.

3 You force not to forfwear.] You force not is the fame with

you make no difficulty. This is a very juft obfervation. The crime which has been once committed, is committed again with lefs reluctance.

King. My faith, and this, to th' Princess I did give ; I knew her by this jewel on her fleeve.

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.
I fee the trick on't; here was a confent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dafh it, like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, fome pleafe-man, fome flight zany,
Some mumble-news, fome trencher-knight, fome
Dick,

That fmiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when fhe's difpos'd,
Told our intents before; which once difclos'd,
The ladies did change Favours, and then we,
Following the figns, woo'd but the fign of the:
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forfworn; in will, and error 3.
Much upon this it is.--And might not You

[To Boyet.

Foreftal our fport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye,
And ftand between her back, Sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jefting merrily ?

fmiles his cheek in
years, ] Mr. Theobald
fays, he cannot, for his heart,
comprehend the fenfe of this phrafe.
It was not his heart but his head
that stood in his way.
fignifies, into wrinkles.
The Merchant of Venice,

In years,
So in

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

See the note on that line.-
But the Oxford editor was in the
fame cafe, and fo alters it to fleers.
WARBURTON.

5 -In will and error,
Much upon this it is-And might

not You.] I believe this paf

fage should be read thus,

- in qvill and error. Boyet. Much upon this it is. Biron. And might not you, &c.

You

You put our Page out: go, you are allowed";
Die when you will, a fmock fhall be
your fhrowd.
You leer upon me, do you; there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden fword.

Boyet. Full merrily

Hath this brave Manage, this Career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting ftrait. Peace, I have done.

Enter Coftard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou parteft a fair fray.
Caft. O Lord, Sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies fhall come in, or no.
Biron. What are there but three?

Coft. No, Sir, but it is very fine;

For every one purfents three.

Biron. And three times three is nine?

Coft. Not fo, Sir, under correction.

it is not fo.

Sir; I hope,

You cannot beg us', Sir; I can affure you, Sir, we

know

What we know: I hope, three times three, Sir-
Biron. Is not nine.

Coft. Under correction, Sir, we know where until it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Coft. O Lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, Sir,

Biron. How much is it?

Coft. O Lord, Sir, the parties themfelves, the actors, Sir, will fhew where until it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as they fay, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, Sir.

7 You cannot beg us.] That is, we are not fools, our next rela tions cannot beg the wardship of our perfons and fortunes. One of the legal tefts of a natural is to try whether he can number.