Hol. Faufte, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne fubumbrâ Ruminat,and fo forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice; -Vinegia, Vinegia,

Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia.

Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.-Ut, re, fol, la, mi, fa.-Under pardon, fir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Horace fays in his-What, my foul, verses? Nath. Ay, fir, and very learned.

Hol, Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verfe; Lege, domine.

Nath. If love make me forfworn, how fhall I fwear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myfelf forfworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Thofe thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like ofiers

bowed.

eyes;

Study his biafs leaves, and makes his book thine Where all thofe pleasures live, that art would comprehend:

If knowledge be the mark, to know thee fhall fuffice; Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend:

All ignorant that foul, that fees thee without wonder: (Which is to me fome praife, that I thy parts ad

mire ;)

Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,

Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, That fings heaven's praife with fuch an earthly tongue!

Hol.

Aa IV. Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and fo mifs the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratify'd; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poefy, caret. Ovidius Nafo was the man: and why, indeed, Nafo; but for fmelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: fo doth the hound his mafter, the ape his keeper, the tired horfe his rider. But, damofella virgin, was this directed to you?

Jaq. Ay, fir, from one Monfieur Biron, one of the ftrange queen's lords.

Hol. I will overglance the fuperfcript. To the fnow. white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rofaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the perfon written unto:

Your Ladyship's in all defired employment, BIRON.

Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a fequent of the ftranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progreffion, hath miscarry'd.-Trip and go, my fweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much: Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu.

Faq. Good Coftard, go with me.-Sir, God fare your life!

Coft. Have with thee, my girl.

[Exeunt COST. and JAQ Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father faith

Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses; Did they pleafe you, fir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol.

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if, before repaft, it fhall pleafe you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the forefaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove thofe verfes to be very unlearned, neither favouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I befeech your fociety.

Nath. And thank you too: for fociety (faith the text) is the happinefs of life.

Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, [To DULL.] I do invite you too; you shall not fay me, nay: pauca verla. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.

SCENE 111.

Enter BIRON, with a paper.

[Exeunt.

Bir. The king is hunting the deer; I am courfing myfelf: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, Set thee down, forrow! for fo, they fay, the fool faid, and fo fay I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills fheep; it kills me, I a fheep: Well proved again on my fide! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will not. O, but her eye, by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhime, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhime, and here my melancholy. Well, the hath one o' my fonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool fent it, and the lady hath it: fweet clown,

fweeter

AB IV. fweeter fool, fweeteft lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in: Here comes one with a paper; God give him grace to groan ! [He flands afide.

King. Ah me!

Enter the King.

Bir. [afide.] Shot, by heaven!-Proceed, fweet Cupid; thou haft thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:-I'faith fecrets.

King. [reads.] "So fweet a kifs the golden fun "gives not

"To those fresh morning drops upon the rofe, "As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have fmote "The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: "Nor fhines the filver moon one half fo bright "Through the tranfparent bofom of the deep, "As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; "Thou fhin'ft in every tear that I do weep: "No drop but as a coach doth carry thee, "So rideft thou triumphing in my woe; "Do but behold the tears that fwell in me,

"And they thy glory through my grief will show: "But do not love thyfelf; then thou wilt keep

66

My tears for glaffes, and ftill make me weep. "O queen of queens, how far doft thou excel ! "No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.”— How fhall he know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, fhade folly. Who is he comes here? [Steps afide.

Enter LONGAVILLE.

What, Longaville! and reading! liften, ear.
Bir. [afide.] Now, in thy likenefs, one more fool,

appear!

Long.

Long. Ah me! I am forfworn.

Bir. [afide.] Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.

King [afide.] In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in fhame!

Bir. [afide.] One drunkard loves another of the

name.

Long. [afide.] Am I the first that have been per jur'd fo?

Bir. [afide.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know:

Thou mak'ft the triumviry, the corner-cap of fociety, The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up fimplicity, Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to O fweet Maria, emprefs of my love!

move:

These numbers will I tear, and write in profe.
Bir. [afide.] O, rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's
Disfigure not his flop.

Long. This fame fhall go.

[hofe:

"Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye [reads. "('Gainft whom the world cannot hold argument) "Perfuade my heart to this falfe perjury?

"Vows, for thee broke, deferve not punishment. "A woman I forfwore; but, I will prove, "Thou being a goddefs, I forfwore not thee: "My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;

66

Thy grace being gain'd, cures all difgrace in me. "Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: "Then thou, fair fun, which on my earth doft shine, "Exhal'ft this vapour vow; in thee it is:

"If broken then, it is no fault of mine; "If by me broke, What fool is not fo wife, To lofe an oath to win a paradife ??