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 shame. [To Coftard. Guilty, my lord, guilty: I confefs, I confefs. 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-purfes in love, and we deserve to die. Biron. True, true; we are four : Will these turtles be gone ? King. Hence, Sirs, away. Coft. Walk afide the true folk, and let the traitors. stay. [Exeunt Coftard and Jaquenetta. 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 cross the cause why we were born: Therefore of all hands must be forfworn. King. What, did these rent lines fhew fome love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who fees the hea venly 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 bafe ground with obedient breaft? What What peremptory eagle-fighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her Majefty? King. What zeal, what fury, hath infpir'd thee now? My love (her mistress) is a gracious moon; Do meet, as at a Fair, in her fair cheek; Where nothing wants, that want itself doth feek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues; Fy, painted rhetorick! O, the needs it not : To things of fale a feller's praise belongs: She paffes praife; the praife, too fhort, doth blot. A wither'd hermit, fivefcore winters worn, Might fhake 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 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 fwear, Beauty doth beauty lack, If that she 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 3 : The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night; And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well 4. Biron. Devils fooneft tempt, resembling spirits of light: O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt, It mourns, that Painting and ufurping Hair Should ravish doters with a falfe afpect: And therefore is fhe born to make black fair. 3 In former editions; The School of Night.] Black, being the School of Night, is a piece of Mystery above my Comprehenfion. I had guefs'd, it fhould be, the Stole of Night: but I have preferr'd the Conjecture of my Friend Mr. Warburton, who reads the cowl of night, as it comes nearer in Pronunciation to the corrupted Reading, as well as agrees better with the other Images. THEOBALD. And beauty's CREST becomes the heavens well.] This is a contention between two lovers about the preference of a black or white beauty. But, in this reading, he who is contending for the white, takes for granted the thing in difpute; by faying, that white is the creft of beauty. His adversary had just as much reafon to call black fo. The question debated between them being which was the creft of beau ty, black or white. Shakespeare could never write fo abfurdly : Nor has the Oxford Editor at all Her Favour turns the fashion of the days, For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid difpraife, Paints itself black to imitate her brow. Dum. To look like her, are chimney-fweepers black. Long. And fince her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their fweet complexion crack. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Your miftreffes dare never come in rain, For fear their colours fhould be wash'd away. King. 'Twere good, yours did : for, Sir, to tell you plain, I'll find a fairer face not wafh'd to-day: Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day here. The street should fee as fhe walkt over head. 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; -fome flattery for this evil. Long. O, fome authority how to proceed; Some tricks, fome quillets, how to cheat the devil'. Dum. Some falve for perjury. Biron. Some tricks, fome quillets, is the peculiar word applied to bow to cheat the devil.] Quillet law-chicane. I imagine the ori Biron. O, 'tis more than need. Have at you then, Affection's Men at arms"; And where that you have vow'd to study, (Lords) * From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; The nimble spirits in the arteries 7; ginal to be this, in the French Learn This and the two following lines are omitted, I fuppofe, by mere over r fight, in Dr. Warbur ton's edition. 7 The nimble fpirits in the arteries ;] In the old fyftem of phyfic they gave the fame office to the arteries as is now given to the nerves; as appears from the name, which is derived from atga ungeïv. WARBURTON. 8 Teaches fuch BEAUTY as a woman's eye?] This line is abfolute nonfenfe. We fhould read, |