Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron. True, true; we are four :

Will these turtles be gone?

King. Hence, Sirs, away.

Coff. Walk afide the true folk, and let the traitors

stay. [Exeunt Colt. and Jaquen." Biron. Sweet Lords, fweet lovers, O, let us embrace :

As true we are, as flesh and blood can be.

The fea will ebb and flow, heaven will fhew his face :
Young blood doth not obey an old decree.

We cannot cross the caufe why we were born:
Therefore of all hands muft we be forfworn.

King. What, did thefe rent lines fhew fome love of thine?
Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who fees the heavenly
Rofaline,

That (like a rude and favage man of Inde,

At the firft opening of the gorgeous east) Bows not his vaffal head, and, ftrucken blind,

Kiffes the bafe ground with obedient breast? 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 infpir'd thee now? My love (her miftre's) is a gracious moon;

She (an attending ftar) fcarce feen a light.
Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron.
O, but for my love, day would turn to night.
Of all complexions the cull'd fovereignty,

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Where feveral worthies make one dignity;

Where nothing wants, that want itself doth feek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues;

Fy, painted rhetorick! O, the needs it not : To things of fale, a feller's praife belongs:

She paffes praife, the praife too fhort doth blot. A wither'd hermit, fivefcore winters worn,

Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy;
O, 'tis the fun, that maketh all things fhine.
King. By heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.
K 4

Biron.

Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! (29)
A wife of fuch wood were felicity,

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; (30) And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well.

Eiron. Devils fooneft tempt, resembling fpirits of light: O, if in black my Lady's brow be deckt,

It mourns, that painting and ufurping hair Should ravish 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 difpraife, Paints itself black to imitate 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. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Your miftreffes dare never come in rain,

For fear their colours fhould be wafht away. King. "Twere good, yours did: for, Sir, to tell you plain,

I'll find a fairer face not wafht to-day,

Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here. King. No devil will fright thee then fo much as fhe. Dum. I never knew man hold vile ftuff fo dear.

(29) Is ebony like her ? O 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 likewife conjectur'd,) O wood divine!

(30). black is the badge of bell;

The bag of dungeons, and the fchool of night.] Black, being the school of night, is a piece of mystery above my comprehenfion. Í had guefs'd, it fhould be, the ftole of night: but I have preferr'd the conjecture of my friend Mr. Warburton, as it comes nearer in pronuncia tion to the corrupted reading, as well as agrees better with the other images.

Long.

Long. Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face fee.
Biron. O, if the ftreets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for fuch tread.
Dum. O vile! then as fhe goes, what upward lies
The street should fee as fhe walkt over head.
King. But what of this, are we not all in love?
Biron. Nothing fo fure, and thereby all forfworn.
King.Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
Dum. Ay, marry, there;- fome flattery for this evil.
Long. O, fome authority how to proceed;

Some tricks, fome quillets, how to cheat the devil,
Dum. Some falve for perjury.

Biron. O, 'tis more than need.

Have at you then, Affection's men at arms; (31)
Confider, what you first did fwear unto:
To faft, to ftudy, and to fee no woman;
Flat treafon 'gainst the kingly ftate of youth.
Say, can you faft? your ftomachs are too young:
And abftinence ingenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to ftudy, (Lords
In that each of you hath forfworn his book.
Can you dream ftill, and pore, and thereon look ?
For when would you, my Lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of ftudy's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face ?
From womens eyes this doctrine I derive;
They are the ground, the book, the academies,

(31) Have at you then affections. Men at arms,] Thus Mr. Pobe has pointed this paffage in both his impreffions, not much to the praife of his fagacity. The third edition in Folic began the corruption of the place in this manner;

Have at you then affections, men at arms,

which Mr. Rowe inadvertently follow'd. But we must certainly read, as I have reftor'd to the text:

Have at you then affection's men at arms;

i. e. Love's foldiers. The King fays, towards the conclufion of this fcene;

Saint Cupid, then! and, foldiers, to the field!

for by giving Cupid as the word, he would intimate that they fought under his banner,

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From

From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire:
Why, univerfal plodding prifons up
The nimble fpirits in the arteries;
As motion and long-during action tires
The finewy vigour of the traveller.
Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forfworn the ufe of eyes;
And ftudy too, the caufer of your vow.
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches fuch beauty as a woman's eye ?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewife is.
Then, when ourselves we fee in Ladies eyes,
Do we not likewife fee our learning there?
O, we have made a vow to ftudy, Lords;
And in that vow we have fo fworn our books:
For when would you, my Liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation have found out
Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes
Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other flow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practisers,
Scarce fhew a harvest of their heavy toil.
But love, first learned in a Lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain :
But with the motion of all elements,
Courfes as fwift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious feeing to the eye:
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind!
A lover's ear will hear the lowest found,
When the fufpicious head of thrift is stopt.

(32) A lover's ear will bear the loweft found,

When the fuspicious bead of theft is flop'd]

(32)

Love's

I have ventur'd 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 thief, harden'd to the profession, is always suspicious of being apprehended; but he

may

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;
For favour, is not love a Hercules?

Still climbing trees in the Hefperides. (33)
Subtle as Sphinx; as fweet and mufical

:

As bright Apollo's lute, ftrung with his hair:
And when love speaks the voice of all the gods, (34)

Mark

may fleep as found as an honefter man. But, according to the ideas we have of a mifer, a man who makes lucre and peif his fole object and pursuit, his fleeps are broken and disturb'd with perpetual apprehenfions of being robb'd of his darling treafure: confequently his ear is upon the attentive bent, even when he fleeps beft.

(33) For valour is not love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hefperides?]

I have here again ventur'd to tranfgrefs against the printed Books. The poet is here obferving how all the fenfes are refin'd by love. But what has the poor fenfe 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. So Virgil speaks of a particular fruit, upon which the commentators are not agreed.

Et, fi non alium late jactaret odorem,

Laurus erat :-

Georg. H.

Befides, fetting afide the allufion of Hercules to the fruit, lovers think fo grateful an odour tranfpires from their miftrofes, that from every pore (as Nat Lee has exprefs'd it) a perfume falls. To thefe fragran cies the Claffis frequently allude.

-quid babes illius, illius,

Quæ fpirabat Amores,

Que me furpuerat mihi.

Cum tu, Lydia, Telephi

Cervicem rofeam, lactea Telephi

Laudas brachia.

Hor. lib. iv. Od. 13,

Idem. lib. i. Od. 13.

For Badius Afcentius, explaining Cervicem rofeam, fays, i. e. fragran

tem, aut formofam.

So likewife Virgil, defcribing the fragrancy of Venus,
- avertens rofeâ Cervice refuifit,
Ambrofiaque Coma divinum Vertice Odorem
Spiravêre.

(34) And when love fpeaks, the voice of all the gods"

Make beaven drowsy with the barmony.]

Æneid. I

As this is writ and pointed in all the copies, there is neither fenfe, nor concord; as will be obvious to every understanding reader. The fine

and