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Aud. I do not know what poetical is; is it honeft in deed and word? is it a true thing?

Clo. No, truly; for the trueft poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what they fwear in poetry, may be faid, as lovers, they do feign.

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Aud. Do you wish then, that the Gods had made me poetical?

Clo. I do, truly; for thou fwear'ft to me, thou art honeft: now if thou wert a poet, I might have fome I hope thou didst feign.

Aud. Would you not have me honest?

Clo. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty coupled to beauty, is, to have honey a fawce to fugar.

Jaq. [afide] A material fool!

Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the

Gods makes me honeft!

Clo. Truly, and to caft away honefty upon a foul flut, were to put good meat into an unclean difh.

Aud. I am not a flut, though I thank the Gods I am' foul t.

Clo. Well, praifed be the Gods for thy foulnefs! fluttishness may come hereafter; but be it as it may be, I will marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in this place of the foreft, and to couple us.

Faq. [afide.] I would fain fee this meeting.

in this cafe to apply his fimile, to his own cafe, against his critical editor? Who, 'tis plain, taking the phrafe to ftrike dead in a literal fenfe, concluded, from his knowledge in philofophy, that it could not be fo effectually done by a reckoning as by a reeking...

WARBURTON. * — and what they fwear in VOL. II.

poetry, &c.] This fentence seems perplexed and inconfequent; perhaps it were better read thus, What they fwear as lovers they may be faid to feign as poets.

2 A material fool!] A fool with matter in him; a fool stocked with notions.

+ By foul is meant coy or frowning. HANMER.



Aud. Well, the Gods give us joydy

Clo. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, ftagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no affembly but horn-beafts. But what tho' ? courage. As horns are odious, they are neceffary. It is faid, many a man knows no end of his goods: right: many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife, 'tis none of his own getting; horns even fo-poor men alone?- no, no, the nobleft deer hath them as huge as the rafcal: is the fingle man therefore bleffed? no. As a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, fo is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no fkill, so much is a horn more precious than to want. B

Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text.

Here comes Sir Oliver-Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are well met. Will you difpatch us here under this tree, or fhall we go with you to your Chapel

Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman?
Clo. I will not take her on gift of any man.

Sir Oli. Truly, fhe muft be given, or the marriage is not lawful.

Faq. [difcovering himself] Proceed, proceed, I'll give her.

Clo. Good even, good mafter what ye call: how do you, Sir? you are very well met God'ild you for your laft company! I am very glad to fee you-even a toy in hand here, Sir-nay; pray be covered.


Jaq. Will you be married, Motley?

Clo. As the ox hath his bow, Sir, the horse his

-what tho'?] What then. Sir Oliver. He that has

Sir. This was not always a word of contempt; the graduates aftaken his first degree at the Uni- fumed it in their own writings; verity, is in the academical ftyle fo Trevifa the hiftorian writes called Dominus, and in common himfelf Syr John de Trevifa. language was heretofore termed


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curb, and the faulcon his bells, fo man hath his defire; and as pigeons bill, fo wedlock would be nibling.

Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bath like a beggar? get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a fhrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.

Clo. I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excufe for me hereafter to leave my wife.

Faq Go thou with me, and let me counfel thee. Clo. Come, fweet Audrey, we must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Farewel, good Sir Oliver; not ' O fweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, leave me not behind thee, but wind away, begone, I fay, I will not to wedding with thee.


Sir Oli. "Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical, knave of them all fhall flout me out of my Calling. [Exeunt.

5 Not Ofweet Oliver, O brave, &c.] Some words of an old bal. lad. WARBURTON. Of this fpeech, as it now appears, I can make nothing, and think nothing can be made. In the fame breath he calls his miftrefs to be married, and fends away the man that fhould marry them. Dr. Warburton has very happily obferved, that Ofweet Oliver is a quotation from an old fong; I believe there are two quotations put in oppofition to each other. For wind I read wend, the old word for go. Perhaps the whole paffage may be regulated thus,

Clo. I am not in the mind, but it were better for me to be married of him than of another, for he is

not like to marry me well, and not being well married it will be a good excufe for me hereafter to leave my wife Come, Jeweet Audrey, we must be married, or we must live in barudry.

Jac. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. [they whifper.

Clo. Farewel, good Sir Oliver, not O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, leave me not behind thee,

- but

Wend away,
Begone, I fay,
I will not to wedding with thee

Of this conjecture the reader may take as much as fhall appear neceffary to the fenfe, or conducive to the humour.

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Changes to a Cottage in the Foreft.

Enter Rofalind and Celia.

EVER talk to me-I will weep.

Rof. Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the NEV

grace to confider, that tears do not become a man. Rof. But have I not caufe to weep?

Cel. As good caufe as one would defire; therefore weep.

Rof. His very hair is of the diffembling colour. Cel. Something browner than Judas's marry his kiffes are fudas's own children.

Rof. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour..

Cel. An excellent colour: your chefnut was ever the only colour.

Rof. And his kiffing is as full of fanctity, as the touch of holy Beard 7.

Cel. He hath bought a pair of caft lips of Diana; a nun of Winter's fifterhood kiffes not more religioufly; the very ice of chastity is in them.

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8 a nun of Winter's fifterbood] This is finely expreffed. But Mr. Theobald fays, the words give him no idea. And 'tis certain, that words will never give men what nature has denied them. However, to mend the matter, he fubftitutes Winifred's fifterhood. And, after fo happy a thought, it was to no purpose to tell him there was no religious order of that denomination, The plain truth is, Shakespeare meant an unfruitful fifterhood, which had devoted itself to chastity. For as thofe who were of the fifterhood


Rof. But why did he fwear he would come this morning, and comes not?

Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Rof. Do you think fo?

Cel. Yes. I think he is not a pick-purfe nor a horfeftealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm-eaten nut.

Rof. Not true in love?

Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think, he is not in. Rof. You have heard him fwear downright, he was. Cel. Was, is not is; befides, the oath of a lover is no ftronger than the word of a tapfter; they are both the confirmers of falfe reckonings. He attends here in the Foreft on the Duke your Father.

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Rof. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much queftion with him: he asked me, of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he; fo he laugh'd, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is fuch a man as Orlando.

Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verfes, fpeaks brave words, fwears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite travers, athwart the heart of his lover;

of the fpring were the votaries of Venus; thofe of fummer, the votaries of Ceres; thofe of autumn, of Pomona; fo thefe of the fifterhood of winter were the votaries of Diana: Called, of winter, because that quarter is not, like the other three, productive of fruit or increafe. On this account, it is, that, when the poet fpeaks, of what is moft poor, he inftances in winter, in thefe fine lines of Othello,

But riches endless is as poor as winter

Takim that ever fears he shall

be poor. The other property of winter that


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