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my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for Why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will
l'envoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve?
never buy and sell out of this word.

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain

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Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.

There's the moral: Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy: Say the moral again. Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,

Were still at odds, being but three:

Moth. Until the goose come out of door,

And stay'd the odds by adding four. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three: Arm. Until the goose came out of door,

Staying the odds by adding four. Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose: Would you desire more?

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose,

that's flat:

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.-To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose. Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard, was broken in a shin.

Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain: Thus came your argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;

And he ended the market.

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Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? Biron. What is a remuneration?

Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.
Biron. O, why then, three-tarthings-worth of silk.
Cost. I thank your worship: God be with you!
Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thec:
As thou wilt win my favor, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. 0, this afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is.
Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.
Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, The princess comes to hunt here in the park, slave, it is but this;And in her train there is a gentle lady; When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her


And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
[Give's him money.

Cost. Guerdon,-O sweet guerdon! better than
remuneration: eleven-pence farthing better: Most
sweet guerdon! I will do it, sir, in print.-Guer-

Biron, O! And I, forsooth, in love! I, that
have been love's whip;

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard A very beadle to a humorous sigh; broken in a shin?

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy:

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. ost. Till there be more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. Cost. O, marry me to one Frances:-I smell some l'envoy, some goose, in this.

Arm. By my sweet soul, mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; [Giving him money. for the best ward of mine honor, is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow. Exit. Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, adieu. Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!Exit MoTH. Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the latin word for three farthings: three farthings-remuneration.- What's the price of this inkle? a penny:-No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it.-Remuneratio!

A critic; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded armis,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting paritors,2-O my little heart!-
And I to be a corporal of his field,

And wear his colors like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.


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SCENE I-A Pavilion in the Park.
RINE, BOYET, Lords, Attendants, and a For-

Prin. Was that the king, that spurred his horse
so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but I think, it was not he. Prin. Who'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind.

• Delightful.

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
Saturday we will return to France.-
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?

For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot. Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot. With the utmost exactness. 1 Petticoats. 2 The officers of the spiritual courts who serve citations

↑ Reward.

Hooded, veiled.

For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say, no?

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
For. Yes, madam, fair.
Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[Giving him money,
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav❜d by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.-
But come, the bow:-Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.

Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:

Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;

If wounding, then it was to show my skill,

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Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;

A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport

That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. To the prince, and his book-mates.

And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;

When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As 1, for praise alone, now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty

Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords!

Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord.


Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth.

Cost. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady!

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth
is truth.

An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit. One of these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit.

Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will? Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to one lady Rosaline.

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine:

Stand aside, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve; Break up this capon. Boyet. I am bound to serve.This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; It is writ to Jaquenetta. Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, (0 base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king: Why did he come? to see: Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar: What saw he? the beggar: Who overcame he? the beggar: the conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's: The captive is enriched; On whose side? the beggar's: The catastrophe is a nuptial; On whose side? the king's?-no, on both in one or one in both. 1am the king; for so stands the comParison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for Tags? robes; For tittles, titles; For thyself, me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profune my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

God give you good even.


Thou, fellow, a word:

Who gave thee this letter?
I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?
From my lord to my lady.

Prin. From which lord, to which lady?
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of

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Finely put on, indeed!

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now?

Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it; [Singing. Thou canst not hit it, my good man. Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can.

[Exeunt Ros. and KATH. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it! Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A mark,

says my lady!

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.

Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith, your hand

is out.

Cost. Indeed, a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.

Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your hand is in.

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving

the pin.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; challenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; Good night, my

good owl. Exeunt BOYET and MARIA. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him


O' my troth, most sweet jest! most incony vulgar wit!

• Just now.

When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.

Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan! To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' will swear!—

And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit! Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! Sola, sola! [Shouting within. [Exit COSTARD, running. SCENE II.-The same. Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL. Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of colo,-the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;

Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell; put L lo sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;

Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting.

If sore, be sure, then L to sore makes fifty sores; O sore L!

Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more L.

Nath. A rare talent!

Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.

Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revo lutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater; and deliver d upon the mellowing of occasion: But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facer, as it were, replication, or, rather ost- Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they entare, to show, as it were, his inclination,-after shall want no instruction: if their daughters be cahis undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, pable, I will put it to them: But, vir sapit, qui untrained, or rather unletterd, or, ratherést, un-pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. confirmed fashion,-to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!-O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished: he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts;

And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,

So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:

But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind Dull. You two are bookmen: Can you tell by

your wit,

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good man Dull.

Dull. What is Dictynna?

Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam

was no more;

And raughts not to five weeks, when he come to fivescore.

The allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humor the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess kill'd a pricket.

Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility." Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility.

A species of apple.

To render some of the allusions in this scene intelligible to persons who are not acquainted with the language of park-keepers and foresters, it may be necessary to mention, that a fawn, when it is a year old, is called by them a pricket; when it is two years old, it is a sorel; when it is three years old, it is a sore; when it is four years, it is a buck of the first head; at five years, it is an

old buck.

A low fellow

• Reached.


Jaq. God give you good morrow, master parson. Hol. Master person,-quasi pers-on. And if one should be pierced, which is the one?

Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth: fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well.

Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it.

Hol. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra,

Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan: I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice! Vinegra, Vinegia,

Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia. Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.-Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Horace says in his-What, my soul, verses? Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

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

Nath. [Reads.] If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful


Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.

Study his bias leaves, and make his book thine eyes; Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend:

If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well Learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend:

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder;

(Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts


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

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

Hol. You find not the apostrophe, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horses his rider. But damosella virgin, was this directed to you? Attired, caparisoned.

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Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords.

Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto:

Your ladyship's in all desired employment,

BIRON. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern inuch: Stay not thy compliment: I forgive thy duty; adicu. Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.-Sir, God save your life!

Cost. 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 saith

Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colorable colors. But, to return to the verses; Did they please you, sir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savoring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.

Nath. And thank you too: for society, (saith the text,) is the happiness of life.

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

SCENE III.-Another part of the Park.

Enter BIRON, with a paper. Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch the defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool.Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax it kills sheep; it kills me, a sheep: Well proved again on my side! 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 rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest 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! [Gets up into a tree. Enter the KING, with a paper.

King. Ah me! Biron. Aside.] Shot, by heaven!-Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:-I'faith secrets.

King. [Reads. So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deed, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep: No drop, but as a coach doth carry thee, So ridest thou triumphing in my woe; Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will show. But do not love thyself; then thou will keep My lears for glasses, and still make me weep. O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel! No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.

1 In truth.

How,shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [Steps aside.

Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper. What Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, appear! [Aside.

Long. Ah me! I am forsworn. Birom. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. [Aside. King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame! Aside.

Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.

[Aside. Long. Am I the first that have been perjured so! Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know:

Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of so-
The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.
Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to

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[He reads the sonnet. Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye (Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument) Persuade my heart to this false pe jury?


Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment.
woman I forswore; out, I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapor is:
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth

Exhal'st this vapor vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broken, what fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath to win a paradise?

Biron. [Aside. This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity;

A green goose 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 shall I send this? Company! stay. [Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play: Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish; Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a dish! Dum. O most divine Kate! Biron.

O most profane coxcomb! LAside. Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you lie. [Aside. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted."

Biron. An amber-color'd raven was well noted.

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Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary | When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?


Dum. On a day, (alack the day!)

Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee;

[Aside. Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time

Thou for whom even Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;

And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thu love.-

This will I send; and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
O would the King, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill to example ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Long. Dumain, [Advancing.] thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:

You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

King. Come, sir, Advancing.] you blush; as his your case is such;

You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart?
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion;
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise break faith and troth;
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
A faith infring'd which such a zeal did swear?
How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it!
For all the wealth that ever I did see,

I would not have him know so much by me.
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.-
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:

[Descends from the tree.
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most 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;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?
You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
O what a scene of foolery I have seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen !a
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king trausformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg
And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic 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 breast:-
A candle, ho!"

Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you;
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in!

I am betray'd, by keeping company
With moon-like men of strange inconstancy.

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In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb ?-


Soft; Whither away so fast!

A true man, or a thief, that gallops so!
Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go.

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Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs not fear it.

Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.

Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead,[ To CosTARD.] you were born to do me shame.Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess:

He, he, and you, my liege, and I,

Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.

True, true; we are four :

Will these turtles be gone?

Cost. Walk aside the
tors stay.

Biron. Sweet lords,

Hence, sirs; away. true folk, and let the trai[Exeunt CoST. and JAQ. sweet lovers, O let us em

As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood will not obey an old decree : We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,

That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind,

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty? King. What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now?

My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon:

She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. Birom. My eyes are then no eyes, nor 1 Biron: O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity; Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues

Fye, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not; To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;

She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,

Might shake 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 sun, that maketh all things shine!
King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine!
A wife of such wood were felicity.

In trimming myself.

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