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Enter Biron, with a paper in his hand, alone. Biron. The King is hunting the deer, I am coursing my felf. They have pitcht a toil, I am toiling in a pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile! a foul word: well, set thee down, sorrow; for so they say the fool faid, and so say I, and I the fool. Well prov'd wit. By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax, it kills sheep, it kills me, I a sheep. Well prov'd 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; 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 rhime, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhime, 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! [He stands aside.

Enter the King.
King. Ay me!

Biron. Shot, by heav'n! proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thumpt him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap: in faith, secrets.

King. [reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives

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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 deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou Thin'it in every tear that I do weep;

No

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No drop, but as a coach doth carry thee,

So rideft thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will shew; But do not love thy self, then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. O Queen of Queens, how far dost thou excel! No thought can think, no tongue of mortal tell. How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper ; Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?

[The King steps afide.

Enter Longaville.
What! Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.

Biron. Now in thy likeness one more fool appears.
Long. Ay me! I am forsworn.
Biron. Why, he comes in like a Perjure, wearing

papers.
King. In love, I hope ; sweet fellowship in shame.
Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long. Am I the first, that have been perjur'd fo?
Biron. I could put thee in comfort: not by two that

I know; Thou mak’ft the triumviry, the three-corner-cap of

society, The shape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.

Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to

move:

O sweet Maria, Empress of my love,
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Biron. O, rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's

hose: Disfigure not his (a) nop, Long. The same shall go. (be reads the sonnet. [(a) Pop. Mr. Tbeobald.--Vulg. Shop. ]

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Did not the beavenly rhetorick of thine eye

('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument)
Persuade my heart to this false perjury,

Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment :
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee.
My vow was eartby, thou a heav'nly love:

Thy grace being gain’d, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is;

Then thou fair fun, which on my earth doft sine,
Exbalst this vapour-vow; in thee it is;

If broken then, it is no fault of mine ;
If by me broke, what fool is not so wife
To lose an oath to win a Paradise?
Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes Aeth a

deity ; A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend, we are much out of th' way.

Enter Dumain.
Long. By whom shall I send this ?

company? stay. Biron. All hid, all hid, an old infant play ; Like a demy-god, here fit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets headfully o'er-eye : More facks to the mill! O heav'ns, I have my wish; Dumain transform'd four woodcocks in a dish?

Dum. O moft divine Kate !
Biron. O most prophane coxcomb ! [afide.
Dum. By heav'n, 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-colour'd raven was well noted.

[afide. [(a) but corporal, Mr. Tbeobald - Vulg, not corporal.

Dum.

word?

Dum. As upright as the cedar.

Biron. Stoop, I fay;
Her shoulder is with child.

[afide.
Dum. As fair as day.
Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no fun muft
shine.

{afide. Dum. O that I had my wish! Long. And I had mine!

[afide, King. And mine too, good Lord!

[afide. Biron. Amen, fo I had mine ! Is not that a good

[afide. Dum. I would forget her, but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remembred be.

Biron. A fever in your blood ! why then, incision Would let her out in fawcers, sweet misprision. [afide. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode, that I have

writ.
Biron. Once more I'll mark, how love can vary
wit.

[afide.
Dumain reads bis fonnet.
On a day, (alack, the day !)
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spy'd a blossom paffing fair,
Playing in the wanton air :
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, fick to death,
Wisk'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow
Air, would I might triumph jo!
But, alack, my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth fo apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it fin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee :

Thou,

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such ;

Thou, for whom ev'n Jove would swear,
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,

Turning mortal for thy love.
- This will I send, and something else more plain,

That shall express s my true love's festring pain;
O, would the King, Biron and Longaville,
Were lovers too! ill, to example III,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note :
For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Long. Dumain, thy love is far from charity,
That in love's grief desir'ft fociety: [coming forward.
You may look pale; but I should blush, I know,
To be o’er-heard, and taken napping so.
King. Come, Sir, you blush ; as his, your case is

[coming forward.
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You do not love Maria? Longaville
Did never fonnet for her fake compile ;
Nor never lay'd his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart:
I have been clofely shrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhimes, observ'd your fashion;
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion.
Ay me! says one ; O Jove! the other cries;
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 infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit?
'How will he triumph, geap, and laugh at it?

my true love's fafting pair ;] I should rather ohuse to read fefring, rankling.

6 How will be triumph, LEAP, and laugh at it?] We should certainly read, GEAP, 1. e. jeer, ridicule.

For

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