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How I would make him fawn, and beg, and feek,
And wait the feason, and obferve the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootlefs thimes,
And shape his fervice all to my behefts,

And make him proud to make me proud with jefts:
So Pedant-like would I o'erfway his ftate, (42)
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prin. None are fo furely caught, when they are
catch'd,

As wit turn'd fool; folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school;
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

Rofa. The blood of youth burns not in fuch excess,
As gravities revolt to wantonness.

Mar. Folly in fools bears not fo strong a note,
As fool'ry in the wife, when wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove, by wit, worth in fimplicity.

Enter Boyet.

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Boyet. O, I am ftab'd with laughter; where's her
Grace?

Prin. Thy news, Bøyet?

Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare.

Arm, wenches, arm; Encounters mounted are
Against your peace; love doth approach disguis'd,
Armed in arguments; you'll be furpriz❜d.
Mufter your wits, ftand in your own defence,
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Prin. Saint Dennis, to faint Cupid! what are they,
That charge their breath against us? fay, fcout, fay.

(42) So pertaunt like would I o'erfaway his State,] If the Editors are acquainted with this Word, and can account for the Meaning of it, their Industry has been more fuccessful than mine, for I can no where trace it. So pedant like, as I have ventur'd to replace in the Text, makes very good Senfe, i. e. in fuch lordly, controlling, manner would I bear Myfelf over him, &c. What Biron fays of a Pedant, towards the Conclufion of the 2d Act, countenances this Conjecture.

A domineering Pedant o'er the boy,"
Than whom no Mortal more magnificent.

Boyet.

Boyet. Under the cool fhade of a fycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes fome half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd Reft,
Toward that fhade, I might behold, addreft
The King and his companions; warily
I ftole into a neighbour thicket by;
And over-heard, what you fhall over-hear:
That, by and by, difguis'd they will be here.
Their Herald is a pretty knavith Page,

That well by heart hath conn'd his embaffage.
Action and accent did they teach him there;
Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear;
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Prefence majestical would put him out:
For, quoth the King, an Angel fhalt thou fee';
Yet fear not thou, but fpeak audaciously.
The boy reply'd, an Angel is not evil;

I fhould have fear'd her, had the been a Devil.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the fhoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was never spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,

Cry'd, via! we will do't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd and cry'd, all goes well:
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With fuch a zealous laughter, fo profound, (43)
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,

To check their folly, paffion's folemn tears.

(43) With fuch a zealous Laughter, so profound, That in this Spleen ridiculous appears,

To check their Folly, paffions, folemn tears.]

As Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope have writ and flop'd this Paffage, 'tis plain, they gave themselves no Pains to understand the Author's Meaning. Tho' for the Rhyme-fake, we have a Verb fingular following a Subftantive plural, yet This is what Shakespeare would fay; "They cry'd as heartily with laughing, as if the deepeft Grief had been the Motive". So before, in Midfummer Night's Dream.

Made mine Eyes water, but more merry tears
The Paffion of loud Laughter never shed.

Prin. But what, but what, come they to vifit us? Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus, Like Mofcovites, or Ruffians, as I guess.

Their purpose is to parley, court and dance;
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his feveral miftrefs; which they'll know
By Favours fev'ral, which they did beftow.

Prin. And will they fo? the gallants shall be taskt;
For, ladies, we will every one be maskt:
And not a man of them fhall have the grace,
Defpight of fuite, to fee a lady's face.

Hold, Rofaline; this Favour thou shalt wear,
And then the King will court thee for his Dear:
Hold, take thou this, my fweet, and give me thine;
So fhall Biron take me for Rosaline.

And change your Favours too; fo fhall
your Loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.

Rofa. Come on then, wear the Favours moft in fight.
Cath. But in this changing, what is your intent?
Prin. Th' effect of my intent is to cross theirs;
They do it but in mocking merriment,
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several councils they unbofom fhall'
To loves mistook, and fo be mockt withal,
Upon the next occafion that we meet
With visages difplay'd to talk and greet.

Rofa. But fhall we dance, if they defire us to't? Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot; Nor to their pen'd fpeech render we no grace: But while 'tis fpoke, each turn away her face. Boyet. Why,that contempt will kill the Speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his Part.

Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt,
The reft will ne'er come in, if he be out.

There's no fuch Sport, as Sport by Sport o'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own;
So fhall we stay, mocking intended game;

And they, well mockt, depart away with fhame. [Sound.
Boyet. The trumpet founds; be maskt, the maskers

come.

Enter

Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, difguis'd like Mofcovites; Moth with Mufick, as for a masquerade.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
Boyet. Beauties, no richer than rich taffata. (44)
Moth. A boly parcel of the fairest dames,
That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views.

[The ladies turn their backs to him.'

Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views. Out

Biron. True; out, indeed.

Moth. Out of your favours, beav'nly Spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold.

Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your fun-beamed eyes With your fun-beamed eyes

Boyet. They will not answer to that epithete; You were beft call it daughter-beamed eyes.

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me

out.

Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue. Rofa. What would these strangers? know their minds,

Boyet.

If they do fpeak our language, 'tis our Will
That fome plain man recount their purposes.
Know, what they would.

Boyet. What would you with the Princess?
Biron. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rofa. What would they, fay they?

Boyet. Nothing, but peace and gentle vifitation.
Rofa. Why, That they have; and bid them fo be

gone.

:

(44) Biron. Beauties, no richer than rich Taffata.] All the Editors concur to give this Line to Biron; but, furely, very abfurdly for he's One of the zealous Admirers, and hardly would make fuch an Inference. Boyet is fneering at the Parade of their Addrefs, is in the fecret of the Ladies Stratagem, and makes himself Sport at the Abfurdity of their Proëm, in complimenting their Beauty, when they were mask'd. It therefore comes from him with the utmost Propriety.

Boyet.

Boyet. She fays, you have it; and you may

be gone. King. Say to her, we have meafur'd many miles, To tread a measure with her on the grass.

Boyet. They fay, that they have measur'd many a mile,

To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Rofa. It is not fo. Ask them, how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many,
The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles,
And many miles; the Princess bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill up one mile?

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. Boyet. She hears her self.

Rofa. How many weary steps

Of many weary miles, you have o’ergone,
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for
Our duty is fo rich, so infinite,

That we may do it ftill without accompt.
Vouchfafe to fhew the funshine of your face,
That we (like favages) may worship it.
Rofa. My face is but a

too.

moon

you;

and clouded

King. Bleffed are clouds, to do as fuch clouds

do.

Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy ftars, to shine (Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.

Rofa. O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moon-fhine in the water. King. Then in our measure vouchsafe but one change;

Thou bid'ft me beg, this begging is not strange. Rofa. Play, mufick, then; nay, you must do it foon.

Not yet? no dance? thus change I, like the moon. King. Will you not dance? how come you thus eftrang'd?

Rofa. You took the moon at full, but now fhe's

chang'd.

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