Bir. [afide.] This is the liver vein, which makes fleth a deity; A green goofe, 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 fhall I fend this?-Company! stay. [Stepping afide. Bir. [afide.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play; Like a demy-god here fit I in the sky, And wretched fouls' fecrets heedfully o'er-eye. More facks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish; Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a difh! Dum. O moft divine Kate! Bir. O most prophane coxcomb! [afide. Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! Bir. By earth fhe is not, corporal; there you lie. [afide. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber quoted. Bir. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. Bir. Ay, as fome days; but then no fun must shine. [afide. Dum. O that I had my wish! Long. And I had mine! [afide. King. And I mine too, good Lord! Cafide. Bir. Amen, fo I had mine: is not that a good word? Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Bir. A fever in your blood! why, then incifion Would let her out in fawcers; Sweet mifprifion! [afide. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. Bir. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. Dum. "On a day, (alack the day!). [afide. "Through the velvet leaves the wind, "And deny himself for Jove, This will I fend, and fomething else more plain, Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note; Long. Long. Dumain, [advancing.] thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief defir'ft fociety: You may look pale, but I fhould blush, I know, King. Come, fir, [advancing.] you blush; as his, your cafe is fuch; You chide at him, offending twice as much: [To LONG. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [To DUMAIN. What will Biron fay, when that he shall hear I would not have him know so much by me. Bir. Now ftep I forth to whip hypocrify. [Defcends. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me : Good heart, what grace haft thou, thus to reprove Thefe worms for loving, that are most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears There is no certain princess that appears : You'll You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing; O, what a scene of foolery have I feen, Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumain? King. Too bitter is thy jeft. Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view? Bir. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you; King. Soft; Whither away fo faft? Bir. I poft from love; good lover, let me go. E 2 Enter Enter JAQUENETTA, and COSTARD. Jaq. God blefs the king! [Offers a paper King. What present haft thou there? Coft. Some certain treason. King. What makes treafon here? The treafon, and you, go in peace away together. Jaq. Of Coftard. King. Where hadft thou it? [Giving him the letter, Coft. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. King. How now! what is in you? why doft thou tear it? Bir. 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, [Picks up the pieces. Bir. Ah, you whorefon loggerhead, [To COST.] you were born to do me fhame. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confefs, I confefs. Bir. 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. |