Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities;
Those heav'nly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make them : therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours. We to ourselves prove false,
By being once false, for ever to be true
To those that make us both; fair ladies, you :
And even that fallhood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to Grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
Your Favours, the embassadors of love :
And in our maiden council rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy;
As bumbast, than as lining to the time:
But more devout, and these are our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, Madam, shew'd much more than jeft.
Long. So did our looks.
Ref. We did not coat them fo.

King. Now at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

Prin. Å time, methinks, too short,
To make a world-without-end bargain in ;
No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore, this-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me ;
Your oath I will not trust; but

with speed
To some forlorn and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the Pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial Signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this auftere infociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fafts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,

Come

go

Come challenge me; challenge me, by these deferts ;
And by this virgin palm, now kiffing thine,
I will be thine; and till that inftant shut
My woful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the ocher's heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,

To flatter up these powers of mine with reft ;
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!

Hence, ever then, my heart is in thy brealt.
Biron. (39)[And what to me, my love? and what to me!

Rof. You must be purged too, your fins are rank,
You are attaint with fault and perjury ;
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelve-month shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek che weary beds of people fick.]

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?

Carh. A wife! a beard, fair health and honcitys With three-fold love I wish you all these three,

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Cath. Not so, my lord, a twelve-month and a day, I'll mark no words that (mooth-fac'd wooers say,

(39) Biron. [ And what to me, my Love? and what to me?
Ros. You must be purged too : your Sins are rank :

You are attaine with Fault and Perjury.
Therefore if you my Favour mean to get,
A Twelvemonth fhall you spend, ar.d never refi,

But seek the weary Beds of People fick.] These fix Verses both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think hould be expung'd; and therefore I have put them between Crotchets: Not that they were an Interpolation, but as the Au. thor's first Draught, which he afterwards rejected; and executa ed the same Thought a little lower with much more Spirit and Elegance. Shakespeare is not to answer for the present absurd repetition, but his Actor-Editors; who, thinking Rosalind's Speech too long in the second Plan, had abridg'd it to the Lines above quoted: but, in publishing the Play, stupidly printed both the Original Speech of Shakespeare, and their own Abridgment of it.

Come,

Come, when the King doth to my lady come ;
'Then if I have much love, I'll give you some.

Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Cath. Yet swear not, left ye be forsworn again.,
Long. What says Maria?

Mar. At the twelve month's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.

Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble Suit attends thy answer there ;
Impoie some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won ;)
You Thall this twelve month-term from day to day
Visit the speechless Sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
T'enforce the pained Impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be, it is impoflible :
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Rof. Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow-laughing hearers give to fools : A jeft's prosperity lies in the ear of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if fickly ears, Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans, Will hear your idle fcorns ; continue then, And I will have you, and that fault withal : But if they will not, throw away that spirit;

And

And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your Reformation.

Biron. A twelve-month? well; befall, what will befall,
I'll jeft a twelve-month in an hospital.
Prin. Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my

leave.

[To the King King. No, Madam; we will bring you on your way.

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old Play ; Jack hath not Jill; these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a Comedy.

King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelve-month and a day, And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a Play.

Enter Armado.

Arm, Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe memade
Prin. Was not that Hector 3
Dum. That worthy Knight of Trey.

Arm. I will kiss rhy royal finger, and take Icave. I im a Votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, moft esteem'd Greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckow ? it should have follow'd in the end of our Show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do fo.
Arm. Holla! approach.

Enter all, for the Song.

This fide is Hiems, winter,
This Ver, the spring: the one maintained by the owl,
The other by the cuckow.
Ver, begin.

The

The SON G.

SPRING W'ben daizies pied, and violets blue,

And lady-/mocks all filver white,
Ard cackow-buds of jellow bue,

Do paint the meadows with delight;
The cuckow ihen on every Tree
Mocks married men ; for obus fings be,
Cuckow !

Cuckow ! cuckow ! 0 word of fear,

Unpleasang to a married car! When Shepherds pipe on daten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmens' clocks :
U'ben turtles tread, and rroks and daws;

And maidens bleach their fummer mocks ;
The cathew then on every free
Niocks married men i for ibus fings be,
Cuckow !

Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,
Unpleafing to a married ear!

WINTER. When ificles bang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail;
And Tom bears logs into the ball,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly fings the faring owl
Tu-whit! to-whoo!

A merry note,
While greasy Jone doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the Parson's faw; And birds fit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw;

Wken