Have misbecom❜d our oaths and gravities; Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Dum. Our letters, Madam, fhew'd much more than jeft. Ref. We did not coat them fo. King. Now at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. Prin. A time, methinks, too fhort, To make a world-without-end bargain in ; Change not your offer made in heat of blood; 1 Come Come challenge me; challenge me, by these deferts; For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, Hence, ever then, my heart is in thy breast. Biron. (39) [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 twelve-month fhall you spend, and never reft, Dum. But what to me, my love ? but what to me? Carb. A wife! --a beard, fair health and honcity; With three-fold love I with you all these three, Dum. O, fhall I fay, I thank you, gentle wife? Cath. Not fo, my lord, a twelve-month and a day, I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers fay. Rof. (39) Biron. [And that to me, my Love? and what to me? These fix Verses both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think should be expung'd; 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 execut ed the fame Thought a little lower with much more Spirit and Elegance. Shakespeare is not to anfwer for the prefent abfurd repetition, but his Actor-Editors; who, thinking Rofalind's Speech 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 Speech of Shakespeare, and their own Abridgment of it. Come, 1 Come, when the King doth to my lady come; Mar. At the twelve month's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, 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, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which fhallow-laughing hearers give to fools: A jeft's profperity lies in the ear groans, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue And And I fhall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your Reformation. Biron. A twelve-month? well; befall, what will befall, 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 Fill; thefe ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a Comedy. King Come, Sir, 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 Dum. That worthy Knight of Trey. Arm. 1 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, moft elleem'd Greatnefs, will you hear the dialogue that the two, learned men have compiled, in praife of the owl and the cuckow it should have follow'd in the end of our Show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do fo. Enter all, for the Song. This fide is Hiems, winter. This Ver, the fpring: the one maintained by the owl, The other by the cuckow. Ver, begin. The The SON G. SPRING. When daizies pied, and violets blue, Do paint the meadows with delight Cuckow ! cuckor! O word of fear, When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmens' clocks : Cuckow ! Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear, WINTER. When ificles bang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail; A merry note, While greafy Jone doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And birds fit brooding in the fnow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When |