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And I to figh for her! to watch for her!
Of his almighty, dreadful, little, Might..
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue and groan : Some men must love my lady, and fome Joan. [Exit *.
A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace.
Enter the Princess, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester.
WAS that the King, that spurr'd his horse so
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he. Prin. Who e'er he was, he fhew'd a mounting mind. Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch; On Saturday we will return to France.
Then Forefter, 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 ftand, where you may make the fairest shoot. Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that fhoot: And thereupon thou speak'ft the fairest fhoot. For. Pardon me, madam: for I meant not fo. Prin. What, what? first praise me, then again fay, no?
O fhort-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo!
For. Yes, madam, fair.
To this line Mr. Theobald extends his fecond act, not injudiciously, but, as was before ob
ferved, without fufficient authority.
Prin. Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praise.
When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part 3,
poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that felf-fovereignty
Only for praife-fake, when they strive to be
We bend to that the working of
the heart.] The harmony of the measure, the eafinefs of the expreffion, and the good fenfe in the thought, all concur to recommend thefe two lines to WARB.
the reader's notice.
6 THAT my heart means no ill] We fhould read, THO' my heart. WARB.
That my heart means no ill, is the fame with to ruhom my heart means no ill: the common phrase fuppreffes the particle, as Ì mean him [not to him] no harm.
Prin. Only for praife; and praise we may afford To any lady, that fubdues her lord.
Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth".
Coft. Good dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?
Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickeft and the tallest.
The thickest and the tallest? it is fo, truth is truth.
An' your waste, miftrefs, were as flender as my wits, One o' thefe maids girdles for your wafte fhould be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest
Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will?
A member of the commonwealth.] Here, I believe, is a kind of jet intended; a member of the common-wealth is put for one of the common people, one of the meaneft.
• An' YOUR wafte, mistress, were as flender as MY wit, One othefe maids girdles for YOUR wafle fhould be fit.] And was not one of her maid's girdles fit for her? It is plain that my and your have all the way changed places, by fome accident or other; and that the lines fhould be read thus,
An' MY wafle, mistress, was
as flender as YOUR wit,
This conjecture is ingenious enough, but not well confidered. It is plain that the Ladies girdles would not fit the princess. For when he has referred the clown to the thickest and the talleft, he turns immediately to her with the blunt apology, truth is truth; and again tells her, you are the thickest here. If If any alteration is to be made, I fhould propofe,
An' your waist, mistress, were
as fiender as your wit. This would point the reply; but perhaps he mentions the flendernefs of his own wit to excufe his bluntnefs.
Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron, to one lady Rofaline.
Prin. O thy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.
Stand afide, good bearer.
Break up this capon 9.
Boyet. I am bound to ferve.
Boyet, you can carve;
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
Prin. We will read it, I fwear.
Break the neck of the wax', and every one give ear.
Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth it self, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itfelf, have commiferation on thy heroical vaffal. The magnanimous and moft illuftrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and be it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vic; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O bafe and obfcure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, faw, and overcame; he came, one; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Why did he
9 Boyet, you can carve: Break up this Capon.] i. e. open this Letter.
Our poet ufes this metaphor, as the French do their Poulet; which fignifies both a young Fowl, and a Love-letter. Poulet, amatoria, Littera, says Richelet: and quotes from Voiture, Repondre au plus obligeant Foulet du Monde; To reply to the moft obliging Letter in the World. The Italians ufe the fame manner of Expreffion, when they call a Love-Epiftle, una Pollicetta amo
come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came be? to the beggar. What faw he? the beggar. Whom overcame be? the beggar. The conclufion is victory; on whofe fide? the King's; the captive is enrich'd: on whofe fide? the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whofe fide? the King's? no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for fo Stands the comparison) thou the beggar, for fo witneffeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may." Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What halt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles: for thy felf? me. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane 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 doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar "Gainft thee, thou lamb, that standeft as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before,.
And he from forage will incline to play.
But if thou ftrive (poor foul) what art thou then?
Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter?
What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?
Boyet, I am much deceived, but I remember the ítile.
Prin. Elfe your memory is bad, going o'er it ere while +
3 Thus doft thou hear, &c.] Thefe fix lines appear to be a quotation from fome ridiculous poem of that time.
4 -ere while.] Just now ; a little while ago. So Raleigh, Here lies Hobbinol our fhepherd, while e'er.