Page images

lords, away.

[ocr errors]


Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him erewhile.

down! Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps O’my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar here in court;

wit! A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it To the prince, and his book-mates.

were, so fit. Prin.

Thou, fellow, a word: Armatho o'the one side,-0, a most dainty man! Who gave thee this letter?

To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan! Cost.

I told you; my lord. To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?

a' will swear!Cost.

From my lord to my lady. And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit! Prin. From which lord, to which lady? Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of Sola, sola!

[Shouting within. mine,

[Exit CostaRv, running. To a lady of France, that he call’d Rosaline.

SCENE II.-The same. Prin. Thou hast mistaken this letter. Come, Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull. Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in day.

[Exit Princess and Train. the testimony of a good conscience. Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor? Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,Ros.

Shall I teach you to know ? blood ; ripe as a pomewater,' who now hangeth like Boyet. Ay, my continent of heauty.

a jewel in the ear of cælo,--the sky, the welkin, Ros.

Why, she that bears the bow. the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the Finely put off!

face of terra,—the soil, the land, the earth. Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are marry,

sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir, Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head." Finely put on!

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Boyet.

And who is your deer? Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come insinuation as it were, in via, in way, of explica

tion; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, Finely put on, indeed!

ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,--after Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, strikes at the brow.

untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unBoyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit confirmed fashion,—to insertagain my haud credo her now?

for a deer. Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas that was a man when king Pepin of France was a a pricket. little boy, as touching the hit it?

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus! -0 thou Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, monster ignorance,

,how deformed dost thou look! that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain Nuth. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that was a little wench, as touching the hit it.

are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it

were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it; [þinging. replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible

Thou canst not hit it, my good man. in the duller parts; Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot,

And such barren plants are set before us, that we An I cannot, another can.

thankful should be [Exeunt Ros. and Kath.

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did

that do fructify in us more than he. fit it!

For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both

or a fool, did hit it.

So, were there a patch' set on learning, to see him Boyet. A mark ! O, mark but that mark; A mark,

in a school: says my lady!

But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it Many can brook the weather, that lore not the wind.

Dull. You two are bookmen: Can you tell by Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith, your hand is out.

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not Cost. Indeed, a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er

five weeks old as yet? hit the clout.

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your

man Dull. hand is in.

Dull. What is Dictynna? Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving

Nath. A title to Phæbe, to Luna, to the moon.

Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips

s A species of apple. Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; chal

€ To render some of the allusions in this scene intellig lenge her to bowl.

ble to persons who are not acquainted with the language

of park-keepers and foresters, it may be necessary to meuBoyet. I fear too much rubbing; Good night, my tion, that a fawn, when it is a year old, is called by tben

good owl. [Exeunt Boret and Maria. a pricket : when it is two years old, it is a sorel; when it is Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!

may be.

your wit,

the pin.

was no more:

grow foul.

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.

4 Just now.

cess kill'd.

And raught® not to five weeks, when he came to Under pardon, sir, what are the contents ? or, rather, fivescore.

as Horace says in his-What, my soul, verses? The allusion holds in the exchange.

Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse ; Lege, the exchange.

domine. Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allu Nath. [Reads.] If love make me forsworn, how sion holds in the exchange.

shall I swear to love? Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the ex Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! change; for the moon is never but a month old: Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the prin


Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal osiers bowed. epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humor | Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes; the ignorant, I have call’d the deer the princess Where all those pleasures live, that art would kill'd a pricket.

comprehend: Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; if knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

Well learned is that tongue, that well cun thee Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it

commend: argues facility.

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonThe praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'da pretty der; pleasing pricket;

(Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made

admire;) sore with shooting:

Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadThe dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps ful thunder, from thicket;

Which not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, hooting.

That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; tongue! O sore L!

Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here one more L.

are only numbers ratified; but for the elegancy, Nath. A rare talent!

facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; but him with a talent.

for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; | the jerks of invention ? Imitari, is nothing: so doin a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired' shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revo- horse his rider. But damosella virgin, was this lutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, directed to you? nourished in the womb of pia mater; and deliver's Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of upon the mellowing of occasion: But the gift is the strange queen's lords. good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thank Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the ful for it.

snow-white hand of the most beauteous Ludy Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may Rosaline. I will look again on the intellect of the my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor’d by letter, for the nomination of the party writing to you, and their daughters profit very greatly under the person written unto: you: you are a good member of the commonwealth. Your ladyship’s in all desired employment, Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they

Birox. shall want no instruction: if their daughters be ca- Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with pable, I will put it to them: But, vir sapit, qui the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. sequent of the stranger queen’s, which, accidentally, Enter JAQUENETTA and CostaRD.

or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.

Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the Jaq. God give you good morrow, master parson. royal hand of the king; it may concern much : Stay Hol

. Master person, -quasi pers-on. And if one not thy compliment: I forgive thy duty ; adieu. should be pierced, which is the one?

Jag. Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is your life! likest to a hogshead.

Cost. Have with thee, my girl. Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of

[Exeunt Cost. and JAQ. conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty ; it is well. very religiously; and, as a certain father saith

Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear cothis letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent lorable colors. But, to return to the verses; Did me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it. they please you, sir Nathaniel ? Hol. Fauste, precor gelidà quando pecus omne

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen. sub umbrâ

Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan : pupil of mine ; where if, before repast, it shall please I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice! you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my Vinegia, Vinegia,

privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia.

child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where

I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth neither savoring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I thee not, loves thee not. -Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.- beseech your society. 8 Reached.

Attired, caparisoned.


Nath. And thank you too: for society, (saith | Thou mak’st the triumviry, the corner-cap of sothe text,) is the happiness of life.

ciety, Hol. And, certes,' the text most infallibly con- The shape of love’s Tyburn that hangs up simplicity. cludes it.-Sir, [To Dulu.] I do invite you too; Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our O sweet Maria, empress of my love! recieation.

[Exeunt. These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

Biron. [Aside.] 0, rhymes are guards on wanton SCENE III.— Another part of the Park.

Cupid's hose :
Enter Biron, with a paper.

Disfigure not his slop.

Long Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am

This same shall go.coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye

[He reads the connet. toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they Persuade my heart to this false perjury?

('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument) say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool.Weil proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad A woman I forswore; but, I will prore


Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment. as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well prived again on my side! I will not love: if I do, My row was carthly, thou á hearenly love;

the way.

[Stepping aside.

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: hang me; i'faith, I will not. 0, but her eye-by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; vows are but breath, and breath a vapor is:

Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in nie. yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth do lo:e: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be Exhal'st this vapor vow; in thee it is:

shine, melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my son

If broken, then, it is no fuult of mine: nets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and To lose an oath to win a paradise?

If by me broke, what fool is not so wise, the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest

Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in: Here comes one with a paper; A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.

makes flesh a deity; God give him grace to groan!

God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' [Gets up into a tree. Enter the King, with a paper.

Enter Dumain, with a paper. King. Ah me!

Biron. [Aside.] Shot, by heaven!— Proceed, sweet Long. By whom shall I send this ?—Company! Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt

stay. under the left pap:-I'faith secrets.

Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun

play: gives not

Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky, To those fresh morning drops upon the rose

And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my

The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Dumain transform’d: four woodcocks in a dish! Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep,

Dum. O most divine Kate! As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;


O most profane coxcomb! Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep:

[Aside. No drop, but as a coach doth carry thee,

Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! So ridest thou triumphing in my woe;

Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

lie. And they thy glory through my grief will show.

Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep

coted. My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.

Biron. An amber-color'd raven was well noted. O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!

[-Aside. No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. Dum. As upright as the cedar. How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Her shoulder is with child.


Stoop, I say: Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?


As fair as day.
[Steps aside.
Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.

Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must

[Aside. What Longaville ! and reading ! listen, ear.

Dum. O that I had my wish! Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, ap Long.

And I had mine! pear! [Aside.

[ Aside. Long. Ah me! I am forsworn.

King. And I mine too, good lord ! Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wear Biron. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good ing papers.


[ Asid. King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she shame!

[Aside. Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. Biron. A fever in your blood, why then incision

[Aside. Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision ! Long. Am I the first that have been perjured so?

[Aside. Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have by two, that I know:

writ. 1 In truth.

* Outstripped, surpassed.

[ Aside.



[ Aside.

Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary | To see a king transformed to a gnat! wit.

[Aside. To see great Hercules whipping a gigg, Dum. On a day, (alack the day!).

And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,
Love, whose month ever May,

And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,

And critico Timon laugh at idle toys !
Playing in the wanton air:

Where lies thy grief, O toll me, good Dumain ?
Through the velvet leaves the wind, And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
All unseen, 'gan passage find; And where my liege's ? all about the breast :-
That the lover, sick to death,

A caudle, ho!
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blou Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view ?
Air, would I might triumph so!

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you ;
But, alack, my hand is sworn,

I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: To break the vow I am engaged in!
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;

I am betray'd, by keeping company
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.

With moon-like men of strange inconstancy.
Do not call it sin in me,

When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme ? That I am forsworn for thee;

Or groan for Joan ? or spend a minute's time
Thou for whom even Jove would swear In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Juno but an Ethiop were;

Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
And deny himself for Jove,

A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
Turning mortal for thy love.- A leg, a limb?-
This will I send; and something else more plain, King Soft; Whither away so fast?
That shall express my true love's fasting pain. A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
O would the King, Birón, and Longaville,

Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go. Were lovers too! III to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;

Enter JAQUENETTA and Costard. For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Jaq. God bless the king ! Long. Dumain, (Advancing.] thy love is far King.

What present hast thou there? from charity,

Cost. Some certain treason. That in love's grief desir'st society :


What makes treason here? You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.


If it mar nothing neither, King. Come, sir, [Advancing.) you blush; as The treason, and you, go in peace away together. his your case is such ;

Jag. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read, You chide at him, offending twice as much: Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. You do not love Maria; Longaville

King. Biron, read it over. Did never sonnet for her sake compile ;

[Giving him the letter. Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart

Where hadst thou it? His loving bosom, to keep down his heart?

Jaq. Of Costard. I have been closely shrouded in this bush,

King. Where hadst thou it? And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion; King. How now! what is in you? why dost Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:

thou tear it ? Ah me! says one ; 0 Jove! the other cries; Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:

not fear it. You would for paradise break faith and troth; Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore

[To Long.

let's hear it. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. [To DUMAIN.

[Picks up the pieces. What will Birón say, when that he shall hear Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To CosA faith infring'd, which such a zeal did swear?

TARD.) you were born to do me shame.How will he scorn ? how will he spend his wit ? Guilty, my lord, guilty ; I confess, I confess. How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it? King. What? For all the wealth that ever I did see,

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to I would not have him know so much by me.

make up the mess: Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.- He, he, and you, my liege, and I, Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me: Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.

[Descends from the tree. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove Dum. Now the number is even. These worms for loving, that art most in love? Biron.

True, true; we are four:Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears Will these turtles be gone? There is no certain princess that appears :


Hence, sirs; away. You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traiTush, none but minstrels like of sonnetting.

tors stay.

[Exeunt Cost. and JAR. But are you not asham'd ? nay, are you not, Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us emAll three of you, to be thus much o'ershot ?

brace! You found his mote; the king your mote did see; As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: But I a beam do find in each of three.

The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; O what a scene of foolery I have seen,

Young blood will not obey an old decree: Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen !' We cannot cross the cause why we were born; O me, with what strict patience have I sat, Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. Grief.


• In trimming myself.

King. What did these rent lines show some love Dum. O vile! then as she goes, what upward of thine ?

lies Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the The street should see as she walk'd over head. heavenly Rosaline,

King. But what of this? Are we not all in love? That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

Biron. Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn. At the first opening of the gorgeous east, King. Then leave this chat: and, good Birón, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind,

now prove Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? | Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. What peremptory eagle-sighted eye

Dum. Ay, marry, there, --some flattery for this Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,

evil. That is not blinded by her majesty ?

Long. O, some authority how to proceed; King. What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. now?

Dum. Some salve for perjury. My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;


0, 'tis more than need! She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. Have at you then, affection's men at arms: Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón: Consider, what you first did swear unto;

O, but for my love, day would turn to night! To fast,—to study,—and to see no woman;Of all complexions the culi'd sovereignty

Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young Where several worthies make one dignity; And abstinence engenders maladies.

Where nothing wants, that want itselfdoth seek. And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues- In that each of you hath forsworn his book:

Fye, painted rhetoric! 0, she needs it not; Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look ? To things of sale a seller's praise belongs; For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,

She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. Have found the ground of study's excellence, A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, Without the beauty of a woman's face?

Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

They are the ground, the books, the academes, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. O, 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine! Why, universal plodding prisons up

King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. The nimble spirits in the arteries;
Biron. Is ebony like her ? O wood divine ! As motion, and long-during action, tires
A wife of such woud were felicity.

The sinewy vigor of the traveller.
0, who can give an oath? where is a book? Now, for not looking on a woman's face,

That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack, You have in that forsworn the use of eyes; If that she learn not of her eye to look :

And study too, the causer of your vow: No face is fair, that is not full so black. For where is any author in the world, King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?

The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night; Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. And where we are, our learning likewise is. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, of light.

Do we not likewise see our learning there? 0, if in black my lady's brows be deckt,

0, we have made a vow to study, lords; It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, And in that vow we have forsworn our books; Should ravish doters with a false aspéct;

For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, And therefore is she born to make black fair. In leaden contemplation, have found out Her favor turns the fashion of the days;

Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes For native blood is counted painting now; Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with ? And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;

Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. And therefore tinding barren practisers, Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: black.

But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Long. And, since her time, are colliers counted Lives not alone immured in the brain; bright.

But, with the motion of all elements, King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion Courses as swift as thought in every power ; crack.

And gives to every power a double power, Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is Above their functions and their offices. light.

It adds a precious seeing to the eye; Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;

For fear their colors should be wash'd away. A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, King. "I'were good, yours did; for, sir, to tell When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd;

Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste : here.

For valor, is not love a Hercules, King. No devil will fright thee then so much as Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? she.

Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet, and musical, Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; Long. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her And, when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods face see.

[Showing his shoe. Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine Never durst poet touch a pen to write, eyes,

Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs; Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!

• Law-chicane.

you plain,

« PreviousContinue »