Long. The fame fhall go.

[He reads the fonnet.

argument)

Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye
('Gainft whom the world cannot bold
Perfuade my heart to this felfe perjury,
Vows, for thee broke, deferve not punishment:
A woman I forfwore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forfwore not thee.
My vow was earthy, thou a heav'nly love :
Thy grace, being gain'd, cures all difgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is ;
Then thou fair fun, which on my earth doft shine,
Exhalt'ft this vapour-vow; in thee it is ;

If broken then, it is no fault of mine;
If by me broke, what fool is not fo wife
To lofe an oath to win a Paradife?

Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesa a deity; A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend us, we are much out o'th' way.

Enter Dumain.

Long. By whom fhall I fend this?

ftay.

Biron. All hid, all hid, an old infant play;

Like a demy-god, here fit I in the sky,

And wretched fools' fecrets headfully o'er-eye:

company ?

More facks to the mill! Oh heav'ns, I have my wish
Dumain transform'd? four woodcocks in a difh?

Dum. O molt divine Kate!

Biren. O moft prophane coxcomb!

[Afide.

formed the Text. Slops are large and wide-kneed Breeches, the Garb in Fashion in our Author's Days, as we may obferve from old Family Pictures; but they are now worn only by Boors and Sea-fearing Men: and we have Dealers whofe fole Bufinefs it is to furnish the Sailors with Shirts, Jackets, &c. who are called, Slopmen; and their Shops, Slop-shops.

Dum.

Dam. By heav'n, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron. By earth, fhe is but corporal; there you lye. (23)

[afide.

Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted.
Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.

Biron. Ay, as fome days; but then no fun must shine.

King. And mine too, good Lord!

[afide.

[afide.

[afide.

[afide.

Biron. Amen, fo I had mine! Is not that a good

word?

Dum. I would forget her, bat a fever the

Reigns in my blood, and will remembred be.

Biron A fever in your blood! why then, incifion Would let her out in fawcers, fweet mifprifion.

[afide. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode, that I have writ. Biron. Once more I'll mark, how love can vary wit. [afide.

(22) By Earth, she is not, corporal, there you lye.] Dumain, one of the Lovers in fpite of his Vow to the contrary, thinking himself alone here, breaks out into fhort Soliloquies of Admiration on his Miftrefs; and Biron, who ftands behind as an Eves. dropper, takes Pleafure in contradicting his amorous Raptures. But Dumain was a young Lord: He had no fort of Poft in the Army: What Wit, or Allufion, then, can there be in Biron's calling him Corporal? I dare warrant, I have reftor'd the Poet's true, Meaning, which is this. Dumaine calls his Mistress divine, and the Wonder of a mortal Eye; and Biron in flat Terms denies thefe hyperbolical Praises. I fcarce need hint, that our. Poet.com monly uses corporal, as corporeal.

VOL. II.

K

Spy'd.

Spy'd a bloffom passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unfeen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, fick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph fo!
But, alack, my hand is forn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth fo apt to pluck a feet.
Do not call it fin in me,

That I am forfworn for thee :

Thou, for whom cv'n Jove would fwear,
Juno but an Ethiope were:

And deny himself for Jove,

Turning mortal for thy love.

This will I fend, and fomething elfe more plain,
That fhall exprefs my true love's fafting pain;
O, would the King, Biron and Longaville,
Were lovers too; Ill, to example Ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note:
For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Long Dumain, thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief defir'ft fociety: [coming forward.
You may look pale; but I fhould blush, I know,
To be o'er heard, and taken napping fo.

King. Come, Sir, you blush; as his, your cafe is such ; [coming forward.

You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You do not love Maria? Longaville
Did never fonnet for her fake compile;
Nor never lay'd his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bofom, to keep down his heart:
I have been closely fhrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhimes, obferv'd your fafhion
Saw fighs reek from you, noted well your paffion.

;

Ay

Ay me! fays one; O Jove! the other cries;
Her hairs were gold, cryftal the other's eyes.
You would for Paradise break faith and troth;
And fove, for your love, would infringe an oath
What will Biron fay, when that he shall hear
A faith infringed, which fuch zeal did swear?
How will he fcorn? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that ever I did fee,
I would not have him know fo much by me.
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrify.
Ah, good my Liege, I pray thee, pardon me.

[coming forward.
Good heart, what grace haft thou thus to reprove
Thefe worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches in your tears,
There is no certain Princess that appears?
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tufh; none but minstrels like of fonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much o'er-fhot?
You found his mote, the King your mote did fee:
But I a beam do find in each of three.

O, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen,
Of fighs, of groans, of forrow, and of teen?
O me, with what strict patience have I fat,
To fee a King transformed to a Knot!
To fee great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon tuning a jigg!
And Neftor play at push-pin with the boys,
And Critick Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief? O tell me, good Dumain;
And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my Liege's all about the breaft?
A candle, hoa!

King. Too bitter is thy jeft.

Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you.
I, that am honeft; I, that hold it fin
To break the vow I am engaged in.

K 2

I am

I am betray'd by keeping company

With men, like men, of ftrange inconftancy.
When shall you fee me write a thing in rhime?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? when fhall you hear, that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gate, a ftate, a brow, a breast, a waste,
A leg, a limb?

King. Soft, whither away fo faft?

A true man or a thief, that gallops fo?

Biron. I poft from love; good lover, let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta and Coftard.

Jaq. God bless the King!

King. What prefent haft thou there?
Coft. Some certain treafon.

King. What makes treafon here?
Coft. Nay, it makes nothing, Sir.
King. If it mar nothing neither,

The treafon and you go in peace away together.
Jaq. I befeech your Grace, let this letter be read,
Our Parfon mifdoubts it: it was treafon, he faid.
King. Biron, read it over.

Where hadft thou it?

Jaq. Of Coftard.

King. Where hadft thou it?

[He reads the letter.

Coft. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

King. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it? Biron. A toy, my Liege, a toy your Grace needs not fear it.

Long. It did move him to paffion, and therefore let's - hear it.

Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. Biron. Ah, you whorefon loggerhead, you were born to do me shame. [To Coftard. Guilty, my lord, guilty: I confefs, I confefs.

King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make

up the mess.

He