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Ay me! fays one; O Jove! the other cries;
Her hairs were gold, cryftal the other's eyes.
You would for Paradife break faith and troth;
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
What will Biron fay, when that he fhall hear
A faith infringed, which fuch zeal did swear?
How will he fcorn? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that ever I did fee,

I would not have him know fo much by me.
Biron. Now ftep I forth to whip hypocrify.
Ah, good my Liege, I pray thee pardon me.

[Coming forward.
Good heart, what grace haft thou thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art moft in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches in your tears,
There is no certain Princess that appears?
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tufh; none but minstrels like of fonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much o'er-fhot?
You found his mote, the King your mote did fee:
But I a beam do find in each of three.

O, what a feen of fool'ry have I seen,
Of fighs, of groans, of forrow, and of teen ?
O me, with what ftrict patience have I fat,
To see a King transformed to a knot!
To fee great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon tuning a jigg?
And Neftor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critick Timon laugh at idle toys?

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, hoa!

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 fpend a minute's time
In pruning me? when fhall you hear, that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gate, a ftate, a brow, a breast, a waste,
A leg, a limb?

King. Soft, whither away fo faft?

A true man or a thief, that gallops fo?

Biren. I poft from love; good lover, let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta and Coftard,

Jaq. God bless the King!

King. What prefent haft thou there?
Coft. Some certain treason.
King. What makes treason here ?
Caft. Nay, it makes nothing, Sir.
King. If it mar nothing neither,

The treafon and you go in peace away together.
Jaq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read,
Our Parfon mifdoubts it: it was treafon, he said.
King. Biron, read it over.

Where hadft thou it ?

Jaq. Of Coftard.

King. Where hadft thou it ?

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[He reads the letter.

Coft. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

King. How now, what is in you? why dost 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. [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 mefs.

He, he, and you; and you, my Leige, and I
Are pick-purfes in love, and we deferve to die.
Q, difmifs this audience, and I shall tell you more.

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Dum. Now the number is even.

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 Coft. and Jaquen. 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 firft opening of the gorgeous eaft) Bows not his vassal head, and, strucken blind, Kiffes the base ground with obedient breast ?

What peremptory eagle-fighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,

That is not blinded by her Majesty ?

King. What zeal, what fury, bath infpir'd thee now ! My love (her miftrefs) is a gracious moon;

She (an attending star) scarce seen a light. 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 feveral worthies make one dignity;

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

Fy, painted rhetorick! O, fhe 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 shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnifh age, as if new-born,

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy; , 'tis the fun, that maketh all things shine. King. By heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.

K 4

Biron

Biren. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! (29)
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 fhe learn not of her eye to look?

No face is fair, that is not full so black? King. O paradox, black is the badge of hell:

The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night; (30) And beauty's crest 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 aspect :

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 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 washt away. King. 'Twere good, yours did: for, Sir to tell you plain,

I'll find a fairer face not washt to-day.

Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here. King. No devil will fright thee then so much as fhe. Dum. I never knew man hold vile ftuff fo dear.

(29) Is ebony like ber? O word divine!] This is the reading of alt the editions, that I have feen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewife conjectur'd,) O wood divine!

(30)- -black is the badge of bell;

The bue of dungeons, and the fchool of night.] Black, being the school of night, is a piece of myftery above my comprehenfion. I had guefs'd, it should be, the ftole of night: but I have preferr'd the conjecture of my friend Mr. Warburton, as it comes nearer in pronunciation to the corrupted reading, as well as agrees better with the other images.

Long

Long. Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face fee. Biron. O, if the ftreets were paved with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. Dum. O vile! then as fhe goes, what upward lies 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;- -some 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. O, 'tis more than need.

Have at you then, Affection's men at arms; (31)
Confider, what you first did swear unto:
To faft, to ftudy, and to fee no woman;
Flat treafon 'gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you faft your ftomachs are too young:
And abftinence ingenders maladies.

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

They are the ground, the book, the academies,

(31) Have at you then affections. Men at arms,] Thus Mr. Pope has pointed this paffage in both his impreffions, not much to the praife of his fagacity. The third edition in Folio began the corruption of the place in this manner;

Have at you then affections, men at arms;

which Mr. Rowe inadvertently follow'd. But we muft certainly read, as I have reftor'd to the text :

Have at you then affection's men at arms,

i. e. Love's foldiers. The King fays, towards the conclufion of this scene;

1

Saint Cupid, then! and, foldiers, to the fuld!

for by giving Cupid as the word, he would intimate that they fought under his banner..

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