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Long. The same shall go. [He reads the fornet.
Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine ere

"argument) Persuade my heart to this f:Vse perjury,

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

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not tbee.
My vow was earthy, 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 Jun, which on my earth doft shine, Exhaltft 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 1o lose an oath to win a Paradise ?

Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesa a deity; A green goose a goddess: pure, pore idolatry. God amend us, God amend us, we are much out o'th'way.

Enter Dumain.

Long. By whom thall I send this? company

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

Dum, O moit divine Kate!
Biron. O molt prophane coxcomb!


formed the Text. Slops are large and wide-kneed Breeches, the Garb in Fashion in our Author's Days, as we may observe from old Family Pictures ; but they are now worn only by Boors and Sea-fearing Men: and we have Dealers whore fole Buliness it is to furnish the Sailors with Shirts, Jackets, &c. who are called, Slopmon; and their Shops; Slop-loops.


Dun. By heav'n, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you lye. (23)

[afide. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted. Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.

[afide. Dum. As upright as the cedar.

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

Tafide. Dum. As fair asday. Biror. Ay, as some days; bụt then no fun must shine,

[aside. Dum. O that I had


wish! Long. And I had mine!

Tafide. King. And mine too, good Lord !

. [afide. Biron. Amen, so I had mine! Is not that a good word?

[ahde. Dum. I would forget her, bat 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 misprifion. [aside.

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 his Sonnet.

Ox a day, (alack, the day!)
Love, whose month is ever May,

(22) By Earth, she is not, corporal, there you lye.] Demain, one of the Lovers in spite of his Vow to the contrary, thinking himself alone here, breaks out into short Soliloquies of Admiration on his Mistress; and Biron, who stands behind as an Eves. dropper, takes Pleasure in contradicting his amorous Raptures. But Dumain was a young Lord: He had no sort of Poft in the Ar. my: What Wit, or Allution, then, can there be in Biron's calling him Corporal! I dare warrant, I have restor'd the Poet's true Meaning, which is this. Dumaine calls his Mistress divine, and the Wonder of a mortal Eye; and Biron in Alat Terms denies these hyperbolical Praises. I scarce need hint, that our. Poet comar monly uses corporal, as corporealoVOL. II.



Spy'd a blolom paling fair,
Playing in the wanton air :
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan pasage find;
That the lover, fick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph fo!.
But, alack, my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thée from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth fo apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee :
Thou, for whom co'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 my true love's fasting pain;
O, would the King, Biron and Longaville,
Were lovers too ; Ill, to example Ill,
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 defir't 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 such ;

[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 closely Ohrowded in this bush, And markt you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty rhimes, observ'd your fashion ; Saw fighs reek from you, noted well your passion.


Ay me! says one; O jove! the other cries;
Her hairs were gold, cryftal 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 hall hear
A faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit ?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it ?
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me.

Biror. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.
Ah, good my Liege, I pray thee, pardon me.

[coming forward. Good heart, what grace haft thou thus to reprove These worms for loving, that art most in love? Your eyes

do make no coaches in your tears,
There is no certain Princess that appears ?
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful things
Tush; none but minstrels like of sonnetting.
But are you not asham'd ? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much o'er-shot ?
You found his mote, the King your mote did see :
- But I a beam do find in each of three.
O, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen,
Of fighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen?
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a King transformed to a Knot!
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon tuning a jigg!
And Neftor play at push-pin with the boys,
And Critick Timon laugh at idle toys !
Where lies thy grief? O tell me, good Dumain;
And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain ?
And where my Liege’s ? all about the breast ?
A candle, hoa !

King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy.over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you.
I, that am honeft; I, that hold it fin
To break the vow I am engaged in.
K 2

I am

I am betray'd by keeping company
With men, like men, of ftrange inconftancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhime ?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? when thall you hear, that I
Will praile a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gate, a ftate, a brow, a breaft, a waste,
A leg, a limb:

King. Soft, whither away fo faft?
A true man or a thief, that gallops fo?
Biron. I pot from love ; good lover, let me ge.

Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.
Faq. God bless the King !
King. What present haft thou there?
Cofit. Some certain treafon.
King. What makes treason here?
Cof. Nay, it makes nothing, Sir.

King. If it mar nothing neither,
The reason and you go in peace away together.

Jaq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read,
Our Parfon misdoubts it : it was treason, he faid.

King. Biron, read it over. [He reads the letter. Where hadft thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.
King. Where hadft thou it?
Coft. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
King. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
Biron. A toy, my Liege, a toy : your Grace needs

not fear it. Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's

hear it. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.

[To Coftard. Guilty, my lord, guilty: I confess, I confess.

King. What? Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess.


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