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With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
Mar. Here comes Boyet.

Enter Boyet.
Prin. Now, what admittance, Lord ?

Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all addrest to meet you, gentle Lady,
Before I came : marry, thus much I've learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his Court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house.
Here comes Navarre.
Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and

Attendants. King. Fair Princess, welcome to the Court of Na.

Prin. Fair, I give you back again ; and welcome I have not yet : the roof of this Court is too high to be yours ; and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine.

King. You shall be welcome, Madam, to my Court. Prin. I will be welcome then ; conduct me thither. King. Hear me, dear Lady, I have sworn an oath. Prin. Our Lady help my Lord; he'll be forsworn. King. Not for the world, fair Madam, by my will

. Prin. Why, Will fall break its will, and nothing else. King. Your Ladyship is ignorant what it is.

Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. I hear, your Grace hath sworn out house-keeping; 'Tis deadly fin to keep that oath, my Lord; And fin to break it. , But pardon me, I am too sudden bold : To teach a teacher ill be seemeth me. Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

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King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.

Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away ;
For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay.

Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ?
Rof. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ?
Biron. I know, you did.
Rof. How needless was it then to ask the question?
Biron. You must not be so quick.
Ref. 'Tis long of you, that spur me with such questions.
Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'cwill tire,
Ros. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o'day?
Rosa. The hour that fools should ask,
Biran. Now fair befall your

Rosa. Fair fall the face it covers !
Biron. And send you many lovers !
Rosa. Amen, fo you be none !
Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.
King. Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but th’ one half of an intire fum,
Dilbursed by my father in his wars.
But say, that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv'd that fum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more ; in surety of the which,

part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Anhough not valu'd to the money's worth :
If then the King your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfy'd,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his Majesty :
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, (9)

On (9)

And not

demands One payment of an bundred thousand crowns,

To bave bis title live in Aquitain.] The old books concur in this reading, and Mr. Pope has embraced it ; tho', as I conceive, it is stark nonsense, and repugnant to the circumstance suppos'd by our poet. I have, by reforming the pointing,


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On payment of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain ;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests fo far
From reason's yielding, your fair self hould make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast;
And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong, And wrong

reputation of

your name,
In fo unseeming to confess receipt
Of that, which hath so faithfully been paid.

King. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin. We arrest your word :
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfy me fo.

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other specialties are bound : To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me; at which interview, All liberal reason I will yield unto : Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand, As honour without breach of honour may Make tender of, to thy true worthiness. You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates ; But here, without, you shall be so receiv'd, and throwing out a single letter, restor’d, I believe, the genuise sense of the passage. Aquitain was pledg’d, it seems to Navarres father for 200000 crowns. The French King pretends to have paid one moiety of this debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of, but demands this moiety back again : instead whereof (fays Navarre

) should rather pay the remaining moiety, and demand to have Aqui

. tain redelier'd up to him. This is plain and easy reasoning upan the fact suppos’d; and Navarre declares, he had rather receive the refidue of his debt, than detain the province mortgay'd for fecuring of it.


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As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Tho' so deny'd fair harbour in my house :
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel ;
To-morrow we fall visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires confort your Grace!
King. Thy own with wish I thee, in every place. (Exit.
Biron, Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. (10)

Rofa. I pray you, do my commendations ;
I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
Rola. Is the fool sick ?
Biron. Sick at the heart ?
Rofa. Alack, let it blood.
Biror. Would that do it good ?
Rosa. My physick says, ay:
Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye?
Rosa. No, poynt, with my knife.
Biron. Now God save thy life!
Rofa. And yours from long living !
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.

(Exit. Dum. Sir, 1 pray you, a word: what Lady is that lame> Boyet

. The heir of Alanson, Rosaline her name.
Dum. A gallant Lady; Monsieur, fare you well. (Exit.
Long. I beseech you, a word : what is the in white?
Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you faw her in the light.
Long. Perchance, light in the light; I desire her name.
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire That

were a shame, Long. Pray you, Sir, whose daughter? (10) I have made it a rule throughout this edition, to replace all those passages, which Mr. Pope in his impressions thought fit to degrade. As we have no authority tò call them in question for not being genuine ; I confefs, as an editor, I thought I had no authority to displace them. Tho”, I must own freely at the same time, there are some scenes (particularly in this play ;so very mean and contemptible, that one would heartily with for the liberty of expunging them. Whether they were really written by our author, whether he penn'd them in his boyith age, or whether he purposely comply: with the prevailing vice of the times, when Puns, Conundrum, and quibbling conceits were as much in vogue, as Grimace and Arlequirades are at this wife period, I dare not take upon me to determine.



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Exit Biron.

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Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's blefling on your beard !
Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended.

wa tumble She is an heir of Faulconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended :
She is a most sweet Lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be. [Exit Long.
Biron. What's her name in the cap ?
Boyet. Catharine, by good hap.
Biron. Is the wedded or no?
Boyet. To her will, Sir, or so.
Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu.
Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.

Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap Lord;
Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word,
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not ships ?
No sheep, (sweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips.

Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish the jest?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.
Mar. Not fo, gentle beatt ;

Bote My lips are no common, though several they be.

Boyet. Belonging to whom ?
Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree.
This civil war of wits were much better us'd
On Navarre and his book-men ; for here 'tis abus’d.

Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies)
By the heart's still rhetorick, disclos'd with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected.
Prin. Your reason ?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviour did make her retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire :
His heart, like an agat with your print impressed,


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