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And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you.
King. Soft, whither away so fast ?
Enter Jaquenetta and Coftard.
Jaq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read, Our Parson misdoubts it: it was treafon, he said.
King. Biron, read it over. [He reads the letter. Where hadlt thou it?
Jaq. Of Coftard.
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. Biron. Ah, you whoreson
loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.
[To Costard. Guilty, my lord, guilty: I confess, I confess.
up the mess.
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 Coft. and Jaquen. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us imbrace :
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be. The sea will ebb and flow, heaven will shew his face:
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 Thew some love of
thine ? Biron. Did they, quoth you ? Who sees the heavenly
At the first opening of the gorgeous east)
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ? What peremptory eagle-fighted 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) (carce seen a light,
Biron. My eyes are then nó eyes, nor I Biron.
O, but for my love, day would turn to night. Of all complexions the cullid Soveraignty,
Do meet, as at a Fair, in her fair cheek ; Where several worthies make one dignity;
Where nothing wants, that want it self doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues ;
Fie, painted rhetorick! 0, she needs it not: To things of fale, a seller's praise belongs :
She passes praise; the praise too short doth blot. A wither'd hermit, fivescore 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 heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.
A wife of such wood were felicity.
That I may swear, Beauty doth beauty lack;
No face is fair, that is not full so black? King. O paradox, black is the badge of hell:
The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night; (30) And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of
light: O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt,
It mourns, that Painting and usurping Hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect:
And therefore is she born to make black fair. (29) Is Ebony like her? O Word divine ! ] This is the Reading of all the Éditions, that I have seen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewise conjectur’d,) O Wood divine!
(30) black is the Badge of Hell ; The hue of Dungeons, and the School of Night.] Black, being the School of Night, is a piece of Mystery above my Comprehenfion. I had gues'd, it should be, the Stole of Night: but I have preferr'd the Conjecture of my Friend Mr. Warburton, as it comes nearer in Pronunciation to the corrupted Reading, as well as agrees better with the other Images,
Her Favour turns the fashion of the days,
For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
Paints it self black to imitate her brow. Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black. Long. And since her time, are colliers counted
bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.
Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
For fear their colours should be washt away. King. 'Twere good, yours did: for, Sir, to tell you
plain, I'll find a fairer face not washt to day : Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here.
King. No devil will fright thee then so much as the. Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear: Long. Look, here's thy love ; my foot and her
face fee. Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. Dum. O vile! then as the goes, what upward lies
The street should see as she walkt over head. King. But what of this, are we not all in love?
Biron. Nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn. King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now
prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there ; some flattery for this
evil. Long. O, fome authority how to proceed; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.
Dum. Some salve for perjury,
Biron. O, 'tis more than need.
Con. (31) Have at you then Affections. Men at Arms,] Thus Mr. Pope has pointed this Paffage in Both his Impressions, not much to the Praise of his Sagacity. The third Edition in Folio began the Corruption of the Place in this Manner; Have at you then Affections, Men at Arms,
Consider, what you first did swear unto :
Have. at you then, Affection's Men at Arms ; i. e. Love's Soldiers. The King says, towards the Conclusion of this Scene ;
Saint Cupid, then! and, Soldiers, to the Field! for by giving Cupid as the Word, he would intimate that they fought under his Banner,