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His loving bosom, to keep down his heart:
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhimes, observ'd your fashion ;
Saw lighs reek from you, noted well your passion.
Ay me! says one; O Jove ! the other cries !
Her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes.
You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To Long
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.

[To Damain. \Vhat will Biron fay, when that he shall hear A faith infringed, which such zeal did swear ? How will he scorn : how will he spend his wit? How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it? For all the wealth that ever I did see, I would not have him know so much by me.

Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me.

[coming forward. Cood 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'er-shot ? You found his mote, the king your mote did see : But I a beam do find in each of three. 0, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen, Of lighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen? O me, with what ftri&t patience have I fat,

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To see a king transformed to'a knot !
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon tuning a jigg!
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And Cynic Timon laugh at idle toys !
Where lyes thy grief? O tell me, good Dumain,
And gentle Longueville, where lyes thy pain?
And where my liege's ? all about the breast?
A candle, hoa ?

King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you.
I, that am honest; I, that hold it fin
To break the vow I am engaged in.
I am betray'd by keeping company
With men-like men, of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhime ?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? when shall you hear, that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waste,
A leg, a limb ?

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. What present halt thou there?
Cost. Some certain treason.
KING. What makes treason here?
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, fira

King. If it mar nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.

JA'Q. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read,
Our parson misdoubts it: it was treason, he faid.

KING. Biron, read it over. [He reads the letter. Where hadft thou it?

Jag. Of Costard.
KING. Where hadft thou it?
Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, of Dun Adramadio.
King. How now, what is in you? why doft 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 whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.

[To Costard. Guilty, my liege, guilty ; I confess, I confess.

KING. What?
Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up

the mess.
He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
o, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.

DUM. Now the number is even.

BIRON. True, true; we are four.
Will these turtles be gone?

King. Hence, firs, away.
Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traytors stay.

[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, 0, let us embrace : As true we are, as flesh and blood can be.

The sea will ebb and flow, heaven will shew his face:

Young blood doth 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 fhew some love of

thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly

That (like a rude and savage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east)
Bows not his vassal head, and, strucken blind,

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-fighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty ?

King. What zeal, what fury, hath inspir’d thee now? My love (her mistress) is a gracious moon;

ng itar) scarce seen a light
Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor i Biron.
O, but for my love, day would turn to night,
Of all complexions the culld sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Whcre several worthies make one dignity;

Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues;

Fy, painted rhetorick! O, she needs it not : To things of sale a seller's praise belongs :

She passes praise, then praise too short, doth blot. A wither'd hermit, fivescore winters worn,

Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy i

She (an

O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine.

KING. By heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.
BIRON. Is ebony like her? O wood divine!

A wife of fuch wood were felicity.
O, who can give an oath? where is a book,

That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look ?

No face is fair, that is not full so black?
KING. O paradox, black is the badge of hell.

The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night;
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.

BIRON. Devils sooneft tempt, resembling spirits of light : O, if in black my lady's brow he deckt,

It mourns, that painting and ufurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect :

And therefore is ihe born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days,

For native blood is counted painting now;
And therefore red that would avoid dispraise,

Paints itself black to imitate her brow.
Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black.
Long. And since her time, are colliers counted bright.
KING. And Æthiops of their sweet co:nplexion crack.
Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
BIRON. Your mistresses dare never come in rain,

For fear their colours should be wash'd away.
King. 'Twere good, yours did: for, Sir, to tell you plain,

I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day: Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day here. KING. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. Dum, I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.

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