Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth 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? A Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity; green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way. Enter Dumain, with a paper. Long. By whom shall I 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! [Aside. Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you lie. [Aside. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted.1 Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. As fair as day. Dum. O that I had my wish! (1) Outstripped, surpassed. And I had mine! [Aside. Long. word? [Aside. 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 inci sion 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. Dum. On a day (alack the day!) [Aside. Love, whose month is ever May, 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, And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. This will I send; and something else more plain, Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note; Long. Dumain [advancing.] thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desir'st society: You may look pale, but I 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 : [To Long. Descends from the tree. Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These 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; Tush, none but minstrels like of sonnetting. But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? You found his mote; the king your mote did see; But I a beam do find in each of three. O, what a scene of foolery I have seen, Where lies thy grief, Ö tell me, good Dumain? King. Too bitter is thy jest. I am betrayed, by keeping company King. Soft; Whither away so fast? A true man, or a thief, that gallops so? Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go. Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. Jaq. God bless the king! King. Cost. Some certain treason. King. What present hast thou there? What makes treason here? If it mar nothing neither, Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. The treason, and you, go in peace away together. Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read; (1) Grief. (2) Cynic. (3) In trimming myself. Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. King. Biron, read it over. [Giving him the letter. Where hadst thou it? Jaq. Of Costard. King. Where hadst thou it? Cost. 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 passion, and therefore let's hear it. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead [To Costard.] you were born to do me shame. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. Biron. That you three focls lack'd me fool to make up the mess: He, he, and you, my liege, and I, Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. Biron. True, true; we are four : Will these turtles be gone? King. Hence, sirs; away. Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the trai [Exeunt Cost. and Jaq tors stay. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us em brace! As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face Young blood will not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, |