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Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart!
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three will prove.

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant. By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.

Arm. I am all these three.

Moth. And three times as much more,and yet nothing at all.

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I Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose fat.-
To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.
Arm. Come hither, come hither! How did this ar-
gument begin?

Arm. Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter.

Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be embassador for an ass!

Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

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Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain: thus came your

argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;
And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me, how was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy:

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,

Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.

horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.

Arm. The way is but short; away!

Moth. As swift as lead, sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?

Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?

Moth. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.
Arm. Isay, lead is slow.

Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so:
Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric!

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:-
I shoot thee at the swain.

Moth. Thump then, and I flee.
[Exit.
Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of
grace!

By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face;
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return'd.

Re-enter MOTH and COSTArd.

Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in a shin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
Cost. O, marry me to one Frances; - I smell some
l'envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta; there is remuneration; [Giving him money.] for the best ward of mine honour is, rewarding my dependents.-Moth, follow.

[Exit.

Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adieu.
Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony
Jew!-
[Exit Moth.

Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three Arm.Some enigma, some riddle: come,-thy l'envoy; farthings-remuneration.-What's the price of this - begin.

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, sir. O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain ! Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the word l'envoy for a salve?

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make
plain

Some obscure precedence, that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Were still at odds, being but three:

Moth. Until the goose came out of door,

And stay'd the odds by adding four.

inkle? a penny;-No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it.-Remuneration!-why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Enter BIRON.

Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly we li met!

Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration?
Biron. What is a remuneration?
Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.
Biron. O, why then, three-farthings worth of silk.
Cost. I thank your worship: God be with you!
Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me, that I shall entreat.
Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well!
Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is.
Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.
Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.

Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave,

my l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three : Arm. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.

Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose:

it is but this ;

The princess comes to hunt here in the park,

And in her train there is a gentle lady;

When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her

name,

And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;

And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go!
[Gives him money.
Cost. Guerdon, — O sweet guerdon! better than re-
muneration; eleven-pence farthing better. Most sweet
guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print.-Guerdon-re-
muneration.

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[Exit. Biron. 0!— And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;

A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
A critic; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers aud malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting paritors,- O my little heart!
And I to be a corporal of his field,

And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague,
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [Exit.

A CT IV.

SCENE I. Another part of the same.
Enter the Princess, ROSALINE, MARIA, CATHARINE,
BOYET, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester.
Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse
so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
On Saturday we will return to France. —
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot!
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.
For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say, no?
O short-liv'd pride! not fair? alack for woe!
For. Yes, madam, fair.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[Giving him money.
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
Butving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
the bow.-Now mercy goes to kill,

And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart:
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise; and praise we may afford
To any lady, that subdues a lord,

Enter COSTARD.

Prin. Here comes a member of the common-wealth. Cost. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth
is truth.

An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One of these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the
thickest here.

Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will?
Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to one
lady Rosaline.

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend
of mine:

Stand aside, good bearer !-Boyet, you can carve?
Break up this capon.

Boyet. I am bound to serve.

This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I swear:

Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear! Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici, which to anatomize in the vulgar, (0 base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king; Why did he come? to see; Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar: The conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's, the captive is enrich'd; On whose side? the beggar's; The cutastrophe is anuptial; On whose side? the king's?-no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? Imay: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; For tittles? titles; For thyself? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.
Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey;
Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter?

What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the style. Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile. Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;

A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the prince, and his book-mates.

Prin. Thou fellow, a word:

Who gave thee this letter?

Cost. I told you; my lord.

Prin. To whom should'st thou give it?
Cost. From my lord to my lady.

Prin. From which lord, to which lady?

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Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter.-Come, lords,
away.

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day.
[Exeunt.
Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the snitor?
Ros. Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Ros. Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!

Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry,

Hang me by the neck, ifhorns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!

Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.

Boyet. And who is your deer?

Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come near. Finely put on, indeed!—

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet.But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now? Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a litte wench, as touching the hit it.

Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit, my good man.
Boyet. An Icannot, cannot, cannot,
An Icannot, another can.

[Singing.

[Exeunt Ros. and Kath. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it! Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; a mark,
says my lady!

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.
Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith your hand is out.
Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er
hit the clout.

Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your hand
is in.

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the
pin.
Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow
foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; challenge
her to bowl.

O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit!
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it
were, so fit.

Armatho o' the one side,—O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' will

swear!

And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! [Shouting
within.] Sola, sola! [Exit Costard, running.
SCENE II.-The same.

Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,-blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of coelo,-the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra,—the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or rather ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,-after his undressed, upolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion,-to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus !—0) thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts; And such barren plants are set before us, that we thank ful should be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts, that do fructify in us more than he.

For, as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,

So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:

But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind. Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell by your wit

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good man

Dull.

Dull. What is Dictynna?

Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.
Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam was no

more;

And raught not to five weeks, when he came to five

score.

The allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess ki a

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good
owl.
[Exeunt Boyet and Maria.
Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!
Lord lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! pricket.

Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it | Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility.

The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;

Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell; put l to sore, then sorel jumps from

thicket;

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Nath. A rare talent!

Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

thunder,

Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue! Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet! Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidious Naso was the man: and why indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari,is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snowwhite hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.—I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foo- nomination of the party written unto. Your Ladylish, extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, ship's in all desired employment, BIRON. objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of in the womb of pia mater; and deliver'd upon the mel-the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the lowing of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.

Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But, vir sapit, qui pauca loqui

tur: a soul feminine saluteth us.

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.
Jaq. God give you good morrow, master person.
Hol. Master person, quasi pers-on. And if one
should be pierced, which is the one?

Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead,

I

way of progression, hath miscarried.-Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much: stay not thy compliment; forgive thy duty adieu!

Jaq. Good Costard, go with me! - Sir, God save your life! Cost. Have with thee, my girl!

[Exeunt Cost. and Jaq. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith-Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses; 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, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege

Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl│I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, enough for a swine: 'tis pretty, it is well.

Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it.

Hol. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub
umbrà

Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan!
I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
-Vinegia, Vinegia,

Chi non te vede, einon te pregia.
Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth
thee not, loves thee not!- Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.
-Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, ra-
ther, as Horace says in his-What, my soul, verses?
Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege, do

mine.

Nath. (reads) If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?

undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those
verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poe-
try, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.
Nath. And thank you too: for society, (saith the
text,) is the happiness of life.

Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, [To Dull.] I do invite you too; you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba.-Away; the gentles are at game, and we will to our recreation.

SCENE III.

Another part of the same. Enter BIRON, with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad, as Ajax : it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep. Well proved again on my side! 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 her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee com-lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter 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! [Gets up into a tree.

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.

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

mend:

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder (Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire ;)

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To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep:
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee,
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe;
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will show:
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.—
How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper;
Sweet leaves, shade folly! Who is he comes here?
[Steps aside.
Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.
What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear!
Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
[Aside.

Long. Ahme! I am forsworn. Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing pa[Aside.

pers.

King. In love, I hope; sweet fellowship in shame! [Aside.

Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.

[Aside.

Long. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so? Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know:

Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society,

The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity. Long. I fear,these stubborn lines lack power to move: O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

Biron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:

Disfigure not his slop!

Long. This same shall go.- [He reads the sonnet. Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye

('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,)
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but, I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;

Thy grace, being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine;
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath to win a paradise?

Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity;

A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry! God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.

Enter DUMAIN, with apaper. Long. By whom I shall send this? Company; stay! [Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play: Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,

And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye.
More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish;
Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum. O most divine Kate!
Biron. O most profane coxcomb!
Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you lie.
Aside.

[Aside.

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Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.
Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers ;sweet misprision! [Aside.
Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
Biron. Once more I'll mark, how love can vary wit.
[Aside.
Dum. On a day, (alack the day!)

Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack, my hand is sworn,

Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee:

Thou, for whom even Jove would swear,
Juno but an Ethiop were;

And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.-

This will I send ; and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting 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, [advancing.] thy love is far from
charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:

You may look pale, but should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

King. Come, sir, [advancing.] you blush; as his your case is such;

You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart!
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion;
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:

I

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