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O me, with what strict patience have I fat,
To fee a king transformed to a knot!
To fee great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon turning a jig !
And Neftor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys ![6]-
Where lies thy grief? O tell me, good Dumain :-
And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain ?—
And where my liege's? all about the breaft :-
A candle, ho!

King. Too bitter is thy jeft.

Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you:
I, that am honeft; 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 ftrange inconftancy.
When shall you fee me write a thing in rhime?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When fhall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a ftate, a brow, a breast, a waift,
A leg, a limb ?

King. Soft; whither away fo fast?

A true man, or a thief, that gallops fo?

Biron. poft from love; good lover, let me go.

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.

Jaq. God bless the King!

King. What present haft thou there?

Cof. Some certain treason.

King. What makes treafon here;

Cof. Nay, it makes nothing, fir.
King. If it mar nothing neither,

The treason, and you, go in peace away together.
Jaq. I beseech your grace let this letter be read;
Our parfon mifdoubts it; it was treason, he said.

King. Biron, read it over.

Where hadft thou it ?

Jaq. Of Coftard.

[He reads the letter.

[6] 'Critic' and 'critical' are used by our author in the fame fenfe as 'cynic' and 'cynical.' STEEV.

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King. Where hadft thou it?

Cof. Of Dun Adramadio, 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 whorefon loggerhead, you were born to do me fhame.

Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confefs, I confefs.

King. What?

[To COST.

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mefs.

He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I,

Are pick-purfes in love, and we deserve to die.
O, difmifs this audience, and I thall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron. True, true; we are four ;

Will these turtles be gone?

King. Hence, firs, away.

Cof. Walk afide the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [Exeunt COSTARD and JAQ Biron. Sweet lords, fweet lovers, O, let us embrace! As true we are, as flesh and blood can be ; The fea will ebb and flow, heaven will fhew his face : Young blood doth not obey an old decree. We cannot crofs the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands muft we be forfworn.

King. What, did these rent lines fhew fome love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who fees the heavenly Rofaline,

That, like a rude and favage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous eaft, Bows not his vaffal head: and, ftrucken blind, Kiffes the base ground with obedient breast?

What peremptory eagle-fighted eye

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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!

She (an attending ftar) scarce feen a light.[7] Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron. O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull'd fovereignty

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

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

Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not: To things of fale a seller's praise belongs :

She paffes praife; then praife too fhort doth blot. A wither'd hermit, fivefcore 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.
O, 'tis the fun, that maketh all things fhine!
King. By heaven, 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 fwear, Beauty doth beauty lack,
If that he learn not of her eye to look?

No face is fair, that is not full fo black.
King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night;
And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well.
Biron. Devils fooneft tempt, refembling fpirits of light.
O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt,

It mourns, that painting, and ufurping hair, Should ravish doters with a false afpect;

And therefore is the 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 difpraise,

Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black. Long. And fince her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.

[7] Something like this is a stanza of fir Henry Wotton, of which the poetical reader will forgive the insertion.

"Ye ftars, the train of night,
"That poorly fatisfy our eyes
"More by your number than your light:
"Ye common people of the fkies,

"What are ye when the fun shall rise?"

JOHNS.

Dum. Dark needs no candle now, for dark is light.
Biron. Your mistreffes dare never come in rain,

For fear their colours fhall be wash'd away. King. 'Twere good, yours did; for, fir, 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 fo much as fhe.
Dum. I never knew man hold vile ftuff fo dear.
Long. Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face
fee.
[Shewing his fhoe.
Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were too much dainty for fuch tread!
Dum. O vile! then as the goes, what upward lies

The street should fee, as fhe walk'd overhead.
King. But what of this? Are we not all in love?
Biron. Nothing fo fure; and thereby all forfworn.
King. Then leave this chat ;-and, good Biron, now
prove

Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.

Dum. Ay, marry, there ;-some flattery for this evil, Long. O, fome authority how to proceed;

Some tricks, fome quillets,[8] how to cheat the devil. Dum. Some falve for perjury.

Biron. O, 'tis more than need !—

Have at you, then, affection's men at arms :[9]
Confider what you firft did swear unto ;-
To faft,-to ftudy,-and to fee no woman ;-
Flat treafon 'gainft the kingly ftate of youth.
Say, can you faft? your ftomachs are too young;
And abftinence engenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to study, lords,
In that each of you had forfworn his book.
Can you ftill dream, and pore, and thereon look ?
For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of ftudy's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive ;

[8] Quillet' is the peculiar word applied to law-chicane. I imagine the original to be this, in the French pleadings, every feveral allegation in the plaintiff's charge, and every diftinct plea in the defendant's anfwer, began with the words qu'il eft ;'-from whence was formed the word 'quillet,' to fignify a falfe charge or an evasive answer.

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WARB.

[9] A man at arms,' is a foldier armed at all points both offenfively and defenfively. It is no more than, Ye foldiers of affection. JOHNS.

They are the ground, the book, the academes,
From whence doth fpring the true Promethean fire.
Why, univerfal plodding prifons up

The nimble fpirits in the arteries ;[1]
As motion, and long-during action, tires
The finewy vigour of the traveller.

Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forfworn the ufe of eyes;
And ftudy too, the caufer of your vow.
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches fuch beauty as a woman's eye ;[2]
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewife is.
Then, when ourfelves we fee in ladies' eyes,
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
O, we have made a vow to ftudy, lords;
And in that vow we have forfworn our books:
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation, have found out
Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes
Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with ?[3]
Other flow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practisers,
Scarce fhew a harveft of their heavy toil.
But love, firft learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But with the motion of all elements,
Courfes as fwift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious feeing to the eye:
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;

[1] In the old fyftem of physic they gave the fame office to the arteries as is now given to the nerves. WARB.

[2] i. e. A lady's eyes give a fuller notion of beauty than any author. JOHNS.

[3] In leaden contemplation have found out

Such fiery numbers

-]

Alluding to the discoveries in modern aftronomy; at that time greatly im proving, in which the ladies' eyes are compared, as usual, to ftars. He calls them 'numbers' alluding to the Pythagorean principles of aftronomy, which were founded on the laws of harmony. WARB.

'Numbers' are, in this paffage, nothing more than 'poetical measures." Could you,' fays Biron, by folitary contemplation, have attained fuch poetical fire, fuch fprightly numbers, as have been prompted by the eyes of beauty? The aftronomer, by looking too much aloft, falls into a ditch.

JOHNS.

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