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fpeak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice; Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia (18). Old Mantuan, old Mantuan who understandeth thee not, loves thee not:utre fol la mi fa. Under pardon, Sir, what are the contents? or rather, as Harace fays in his What foul! verfes (19) > my

Nath. Ay, Sir, and very learned.

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Hol. Let me hear a flaff, a ftanza, a verse; Lege, Domine.

Nath. If love make me forfworn, how fhall I fwear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd; Though to myself forfworn, to thee I'll faithful prove ; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like ofiers

bow'd, 13

Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes; Where all those pleasures live, that art would comMacprehend:

If knowledge be the mark, to know thee fhall fuffice; Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.

All ignorant that Soul, that fees thee without wonder: Which is to me fome praise, that I thy parts admire Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful, thunder

Which, not to anger bent, is mufick, and fweet fire. Celestial as thou art, Oh pardon, love, this wrong, That fings heav'n's praise with such an earthly tongue.

(18) Verechi, venacke a, qui non te vide, i non te piaecb.]. Thus Mr. Rowe, and Mr. Pope, from the old blundering Editions. But that thefe Gentlemen, Poets, Scholars, and Linguists, could not afford to refore this little Scrap of true Italian, is to me unaccountable. Our Author is applying the Praifes of Mantuanus to a common proverbial Sentence, faid of Venice. Vinegia, Vinegia! qui non te vedi, ei non te pregia. O Venice, Venice, he, who has never feen thee, has thee not in Efteem.

(19) What! my Soul! Verfes ?] As our Poet has mentioned Horace, I prefume he is here alluding to this Paffage in his I. Sermo. 9. Quid agis, dulciffime rerum ?

Hal.

Hol. You find not the Apoftrophes, and fo mifs the accent. Let me fupervise the canzonet (20). Here are only numbers ratify'd (21); but for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poefy, caret: Ovidius Nafo was the man. And why, indeed, Nafo; but for fmel

(20) Let me fupervise the Cangenet. If the Editors have met with any fuch Word, it is more than I have done, or, I believe, ever fhall do. Our Author wrote Canzonet, from the Italian Word Canzonetto, a little Song.

(21) Nath. Here are only Numbers ratified;] Tho' this Speech has been all along placed to Sir Nathaniel, I have ventured to join it to the preceding Words of Holofernes; and not without Reason. The Speaker here is impeaching the Verfes; but Sir Nathaniel, as it appears above, thought them learned ones: befides, as Dr. Thirlby obferves, almost every Word of this Speech fathers itself on the Pedant. So much for the Regulation of it: now, a little, to the Contents.

And why indeed Nafo, but for Jmelling out the odoriferous Flowers of Fancy? the Jerks of Invention imitary is nothing.

دل

Sagacity with a Vengeance! I fhould be ashamed to own myself a Piece of a Scholar, to pretend to the Tafk of an Editor, and to påfs fuch Stuff as this upon the World for genuine. Who ever heard of Invention imitary? Invention and Imitation have ever been accounted two diftinct Things. The Speech is by a Pedant, who frequently throws in a Word of Latin amongst his English; and he is here flourishing upon the Merit of Invention, beyond that of Imitation, or copying after another. My Correction makes the whole fo plain and intelligible, that, I think, it carries Conviction along with it. Again:

So doth the Hound bis Mafter, the Ape his Keeper, the tired Horfe

bis Rider.

The Pedant here, to run down Imitation, fhews that it is a Quality within the Capacity of Beafts: that the Dog and the Ape are taught to copy Tricks by their Mafter and Keeper; and fo is the tir'd Horfe by his Rider. This laft is a wonderful Inftance; but it happens not to be true. Mr. Warburten ingenioufly faw, that the Author must have wrote the tried Horfe his Rider.

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i. e. One, exercis'd, and broke to the Manage: for he obeys every Sign, and Motion of the Rein, or of his Rider.

ling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention ? imitari, is nothing: fo doth the hound his mafter, the ape his keeper, the try'd horfe his rider: But Damofella Virgin, was this directly to you?

"

Faq. Ay, Sir, from one Monfieur Biron, to one of the ftrange Queen's Ladies.

Hol. I will overglance the fuperfcript. To the fnowwhite hand of the most beauteous lady Rofaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the perfon written

unto.

Your Ladyship's in all defir'd employment,

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Biron. This Biron is one of the votaries with the King; and here he hath fram'd a letter to a fequent of the ftran ger Queen's, which accidentally, or by the way of pro greffion, hath mifcarry'd. Trip and go, my fweet; deliver this paper into the hand of the King; it may concern much; ftay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty adieu.

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Jaq. Good Coftard, go with me. Sir, God fave your

life.

Coft, Have with thee, my girl.

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[Exeunt Coftard and Jaquenett?. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religioufly and as a certain father faith

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

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if (being repaft) it fhall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the aforefaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto: where will [ prove thofe verfes to be very unlearned, neither favouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your fociety.

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

Hal.

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 recreation. [Exeunt.

Enter Biron, with a paper in his hand, alone.

Biron. The King is hunting the deer, I am courfing myfelf. They have pitcht a toil, I am toiling in a pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile! a foul word: well, fet thee down, forrow; for fo they fay the fool faid, and fo fay I, and I the fool. Well-prov'd wit. By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax, it kills fheep, it kills me, a fheep. Well prov'd again on my fide. 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; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lye, and lye in my 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, the hath one o' my fonnets already; the clown bore it; the fool fent it, and the lady hath it fweet clown, fweeter 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 flands afide.

King. Ay me!

Enter the King

Biron. Shot, by heav'n! proceed, fweet Cupid; thou haft thumpt him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap : in faith, fecrets,

1701

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King. [reads.] So fweet a kiss the golden fon gives not
To thofe fresh morning drops upon the role,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have fmote
The night of dew, that on my cheeks down flows;
Nor fhines the filver moon one half so bright,

Through the tranfparent bofom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;"
Thou shin'ft in every tear that I do weep;

Ne

No drop, but as a coach doth carry thee,
So rideft thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that fwell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will fhew;
But do not love thyself, then thou wilt keep
My tears for glaffes, and ftill make me weep.

O Queen of Queens, how far doft thou excel !
No thought can think, no tongue of mortal tell.

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How fhall the know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, fhade folly. Who is he comes here? [The King Aeps afide.

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Enter Longaville.

What! Longaville and reading! liften, ear.
Biron. Now in thy likeness one more fool appears.
Long. Ay me! I am forfworn.

Biron. Why, he comes in like a Perjure, wearing papers.
King. In love, I hope; fweet fellowship in fhame.
Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long. Am I the first, that have been perjur'd fo?
"Biran. I could put thee in comfort: not by two that
I know;

Thou mak'ft the triumviry, the three-corner-cap of fociety,
The fhape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up fimplicity.

Long. I fear, thefe ftubborn lines lack power to move:

O fweet Maria, Emprefs of my love,

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These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

Biran. O, rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hofe : Disfigure not his flop. (22)

Long.

(22) Ob, Rhimes are Guards on wanton Cupid's Hofe; Disfigure not bis Shop.] All the Editions happen to concur in this Error; but what Agreement in Senfe is there betwixt Cupid's Hofe and his Shop? Or, what Relation can those two Terms have to one another? Or, what, indeed, can be understood by Cupid's Shop? It must undoubtedly be corrected, as I have re

reformed

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