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* Suggested us to make them: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewife yours. We to ourselves prove false,
By being once falfe for ever to be true

To thofe that make us both; fair ladies, you :
And even that falfhood, in itself a fin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of love }
Your favours, the embaffadors of love:
And in our maiden council rated them
At courtship, pleafant jeft, and courtesy;
As bombaft, and as lining to the time : "
But more devout than this, in our respects,"


4 Suggested us] That is, tempted us. JOHNSON.

A bombaft, than as lining to the time:] This line is obfcure. Bombaft was a kind of loose texture not unlike what is now called wadding, ufed to give the dreffes of that time bulk and protube rance, without much increase of weight; whence the fame name is given a tumour of words unfupported by folid fentiment. The Princess, therefore, fays, that they confidered this courtship as but bombaft, as fomething to fill out life, which not being closely u nited with it, might be thrown away at pleasure. JoHNSON.

6 But more devout than these are our refpects Have we not been:]

This nonfenfe fhould be read thus,

But more devout than this, (save our refpe@s)
Have we not been ;·

i. e. fave the refpect we owe to your majefty's quality, your courts hip we have laugh'd at, and made a jett of. WARBURTON.

We have receiv'd your letters full of love 3 Your favours the ambassadors of love; And in our maiden council rated them A courtship, pleafant jeft, and courtefy, As bombaft and as lining to the time; But more devout than these are our respects Have we not been, and therefore met your In their own fashion, like a merriment. The fixth verfe being evidently corrupted, Dr. Warburton pro pofes to read,


But more devout than this (fave our refpecs)
Have we not been ;-




Have we not been, and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, madam, fhew'd much more than

Long. So did our looks.

Rof. We did not quote them fo.7

King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time, methinks, too short,
To make a world without-end bargain in:
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltinefs; and therefore, this-
If for my love (as there is no fuch cause)
You will do aught, this fhall you do for me:
Your oath I will not truft; but go with speed
To fome forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There ftay, until the twelve celeftial figns
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this auftere infociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frofts, and fafts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy bloffoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me, by thefe deferts;

Dr. Johnfon prefers the conjecture of fir Thomas Hanmer,
But more devout than this, in our respects.

I would read, with lefs violence, I think, to the text, though with
the alteration of two words,

But more devout than these are your respects
Have we not seen,-

Obferv. & Conject. &c. printed at Oxf. 1766.

I read with fir T. Hanmer,

But more devout than this, in our refpe&s, JOHNSON.

We did not coat them fo.] We fhould read, quote, esteem, reckon, though our old writers fpelling by the car, probably wrote cote, as it was pronounced. JOHNSON.

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And, by this virgin palm, now kiffing thine,
I will be thine and till that inftant fhut
My woful felf up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation,

For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled to the other's heart.


King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up thefe powers of mine with reft; The fudden hand of death close up mine eye!

Hence, ever then, my heart is in thy breast. Biron.' And what to me, my love? and what to me? Rof. You must be purged too, your fins are rank You are attaint with fault and perjury; Therefore, if if you my favour mean to get, A twelve-month fhall you spend, and never reft,

To flatter up these powers of mine with reft;] Dr. Warburton would read fetter, but flatter or fouth is, in my opinion, more appofite to the king's purpose than fetter. Perhaps we may read, To flatter on thefe hours of time with reft; That is, I would not deny to live in the hermitage, to make the year of delay pafs in quiet. JOHNSON,

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9 Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me?,
Rof. You must be purged too: your fins are rank:
You are attaint with fault and perjury;
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,

A twelvemonth fhall you spend, and never reft,
But feek the weary beds of people fick.]


These fix verfes both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think should be expunged; and therefore I have put them between crotchets not that they were an interpolation, but as the author's firft draught, which he afterwards rejected; and executed the fame thought a little lower with much more fpirit and elegance. Shakespeare is not to answer for the prefent abfurd repetition, but his actor-editors; who, thinking Rofaline's fpeech too long in the fecond plan, had abridg'd it to the lines above quoted; but, in publishing the play, ftupidly printed both the original fpeech of Shakespeare, and their own abridgment of it. THEOBALD.

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But feek the weary beds of people fick.

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Cath. A wife!—a beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, fhall I fay, I thank you, gentle wife? Cath. Not fo, my lord;-atwelve-month and a day — I'll mark no words that fmooth-fac'd wooers fay. Come, when the king doth to my lady come; Then, if I have much love, I'll give you fome.

Dum. I'll ferve thee true and faithfully till then. Cath. Yet fwear not, left you be forfworn again. Long. What fays Maria?

Mar. At the twelve-month's end,

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Eiron. Studies my lady? miftrefs, look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble fuit attends thy answer there;
Impose fome fervice on me for thy love.

Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I faw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks
Full of comparifons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all eftates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;
And therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won)
You fhall this twelve-month-term from day to day
Vifit the speechlefs fick, and still converfe
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to fmile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be, it is impoffible:



Mirth cannot move a foul in agony.

Rof. Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit,
Whofe influence is begot of that loofe grace,
Which fhallow-laughing hearers give to fools.
A jeft's profperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if fickly ears,
Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle fcorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal:
But if they will not, throw away that fpirit;
And I fhall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelve month? well; befal what will befal, I'll jeft a twelve-month in an hofpital.

Prin. Ay, fweet my lord; and fo I take my leave. [To the King. King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill; thefe ladies' courtesy Might well have made our fport a comedy.

King. Come, fir, it wants a twelve-month and a day, And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a play.

Enter Armado.

Arm. Sweet majefty, vouchfafe me-
Prin. Was not that Hector?
Dum. That worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kifs thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her fweet love three years. But, most

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dear groans,] Dear fhould here, as in many other places, be dere, fad, odious. JOHNSON.



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