He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I Biron. True, true; we are four : King. Hence, Sirs, away. Coft. Walk afide the true folk, and let the traitors stay. The fea will ebb and flow, heaven will fhew his face: King. What, did these rent lines fhew fome love of thine? That (like a rude and favage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous east) Bows not his vaffal head, and, ftrucken blind, Kiffes the base ground with obedient breaft? What peremptory eagle-fighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her Majefty? King. What zeal, what fury, hath inspir'd thee now ? My love (her mistress) is a gracious moon; She (an attending ftar) fcarce feen a light. Of all complexions the cull'd Sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where feveral worthies make one dignity; Where nothing wants, that want itself doth feek. To things of fale a feller's praise belongs: : A wither'd hermit, fivefcore winters worn, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy; O, who can give an oath? where is a book, That I may fwear, Beauty doth beauty lack, If that he learn not of her eye to look? No face is fair, that is not full fo black? King. O paradox, black is the badge of hell: The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night; (25). And beauty's creft 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 ravifh doters with a falfe afpect: 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 difpraise, Paints itself black to imitatę 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. (24) Is Ebony like ber? 0 Word divine!] This is the Reading of all the Editions that I have feen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewise conjectur'd,) O Wood divine! black is the badge of Hell; (25) The bue of Dungeons, and the School of Night.] Black, being the School of Night, is a Piece of Myftery above my Comprehenfion. I had guefs'd, it fhould be, the Stole 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 agroes better with the other Images. Dum Dum. Dark needs no candles, now, for dark is light. Biron. Your miftreffes dare never come in rain, For fear their colours fhould be wash'd away. Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here. Dum. Ay, marry, there; fome flattery for this evil. Some tricks, fome quillets, how to cheat the devil. Biron. O, 'tis more than need. Have at you then, Affection's men at arms; And where that you have vow'd to ftudy, (Lords) K 4 The The nimble fpirits in the arteries; (26) A Lover's Ear will bear the lowest Sound, When the fufpicious Head of Theft is flopp'd.] Love's I have ventured to fubftitute a Word here, against the Authority of all the printed Copies. There is no Contraft of Terms,, betwixt a Lover and a Thief: but betwixt a Lover and a Man of Thrift there is a remarkable Antithefis. Nor is it true in Fact, I believe, that a Love's Feeling is more foft and fenfible, Than are the tender horns of cockled fnails. Love's Tongue proves dainty Bacchus grofs in tafte: Still climbing trees in the Hefperides? (27) As bright Apollo's lute, ftrung with his hair: And when Love speaks the voice of all the Gods, (28) Thief, harden'd to the Profeffion, is always fufpicious of being apprehended; but he may fleep as found as an honefter Man. But, according to the Ideas we have of a Mifer, a Man who makes Lucre and Pelf his fole Object and Purfuit, his fleeps are broken and disturb'd with perpetual Apprehenfions of being robbed of his darling Trea➡ fure: confequently, his Ear is upon the attentive Bent, even when he fleeps beft. (27) For Valour is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing Trees in the Hefperides?] I have here again ventur'd to trangrefs against the printed Books. The Poet is here observing how all the Senfes are refined by Love. But what has the poor Senfe of Smelling done, not to keep its Place among its Brethren? Then Hercules's Valour was not in climbing the Trees, but in attacking the Dragon gardant. I rather think, the Poet meant that Hercules was allured by the Odour and Fragrancy of the golden Apples. (28) And when Love fpeaks, the Voice of all the Gods, Make Heaven drewly with the Harmony.] As this is writ and pointed in all the Copies, there is neither Senfe, nor Concord; as will be obvious to every understanding Reader. The fine and eafy Emendation, which I have inferted in the Text, I Owe to my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton. His comment on Heaven being drowsy with the Harmony is no lefs ingenious; and therefore, I'll fubjoin it in his own Words. "Mufick, we muft "obferve, in our Author's time had a very different Ufe to what it has now. At prefent, it is only employed to raife and inflame "the Paffions; then, to calm and allay all kind of Perturbations. "And agreeable to this Obfervation, throughout all Shakespeare's "Plays, where Mufick is either actually used, or its Power de"fcribed, 'tis always faid to be for thefe Ends. |