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King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.

Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me ftay.

Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ?
Rofa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Biron. I know, you did.
Rofa. How needless was it then to ask the question ?
Biron. You must not be so quick.
Rofa.'Tis long of you, that spur me with such questions,
Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
Rofa. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o'day?
Rofa. The hour that fools should alk.
Biron. Now fair befall your mask !
Rofa. Fair fall the face it covers !
Biron. And send you many lovers!
Rofa. Amen, so

you

be none ! Biron. Nay, then will I be gone. King. Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns ; Being but th' one half of an intire sum, Disbursed by my father in his wars. But say, that he, or we, as neither have, Receiv'd that sum ; yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more ; in surety of the which, One part of Aquitain is bound to us, Although not valu'd to the money's worth: If then the King your father will restore But that one half which is unsatisfy'd, We will give up our right in Aquitain, And hold fair friendship with his Majesty : But that, it seem, he little purposeth For here he doth demand to have repaid An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, (9)

On

(9)

And not demands
One payment of an bundred thousand crowns,

To bave bis title live in Aquitain.] The old books concur in this reading, and Mr. Pope has embraced it; tho', as I conceive, it is stark nonsense, and repugnant to the circumfance suppos’d by our poet. I have, by reforming the pointing,

and

On payment of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain ;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests fo far
From reason's yielding, your fair self hould make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my brealt;
And go well satisfied to France again.
Prin. You do the King my father too much

wrong;
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that, which hath-fo faithfully been paid.

King. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin. We arrest your word :
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father,

Ring. Satisfy me fo.

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other specialties are bound :
To-morrow you shall have a fight of them.

King. It shall fuffice me ; at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto :
Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates;
But here, without, you shall be fo receiv'd,

.and throwing out à fingle letter, restor'd, I believe the genuine sense of the partage. Aquitain was pledg’d, it seems, to Navarre's father for 200000 crowns. The French King pretends to have paid one moiety of this debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of) but demands this moiety back again : instead whereof (lays Navarre) he should rather pay the remaining moiety, and demand to have Aqui. tain redeliver'd up to him. This is plain and easy reasoning upon the fact suppos'd; and Navarre declares, he had rather receive the residue of his debt, than detain the province mortgag'd for security of it.

As

As you thall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Tho' so deny'd fair harbour in my houle:
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewe:1;
To-moi row we shall visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires confort your Grace!
King. Thy own with wish I thee, in every place. [Exit.
Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. (10)

Rofa. I pray you, do my commendations;
I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan.
Rofa. Is the fool fick?
Biron. Sick at the heart !
Roja. Alack, let it blood.
Biron. Would that do it good ?
Roja. My phyfick says ay.
Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye?
Rofa. No, point, with my knife,
Biron. Now God tave thy life!
Roja. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thank giving.

[Exit.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what Lady is that iame?
Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name.
Dum. A gallant Lady; Monsieur, fare you well. [Exit.
Long. I beseech you, a word : what is the in white ?
Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you saw her in the light.
Long. Perchance, light in the light; I desire her name.
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire That

were a shame. Long. Pray you, Sir, whose daughter?

(10) I have made it a rule throughout this edition, to replace all those passages, which Mr. Pope in his impressions thought fit to degrade. As we have no authority to call them in question for not being genuine; I confess, as an editor, I thought I had no authority to displace them. Tho', I must own freely at the same time, there are some scenes (particularly in this play ;) so very mean and contemptible, that one would heartily wish for the liberty of expunging them. Whether they were really written by our author, whether he penn'd them in his boyith age, or whether he purposely comply'd with the prevailing vice of the times, when Puns, Conundrum, and quibbling conceits were as much in vogue, as Grimace and Arlequinades are at this wisc period, I dare ot ta!

upon me to determine. Vol. II.

I

Boyet.

Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.
Long. God's blesing on your beard!

Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Faulconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended : She is a most sweet Lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be. [Exit Long.
Biron. What's her name in the

cap ?
Boyet. Catharine, by good hap,
Biron. Is she wedded or no ?
Bayet. To her will, Sir, or so.
Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu.
Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.

(Exit. Biron. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad cap Lord; Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not thips?
No seep, (sweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips.

Mar. You sheep, and I pasture; shall that finish the jest?
Boyet. So you grant pasture for me.

Mar. Not fo, gentle beast;
Bly lips are no common, though several they be.

Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Mar. To my fortunes and me.,

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree.
This civil war of wits were much better us'd
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd.

Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies) By the heart's still rhetorick, disclos'd with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected.
Prin. Your reason?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviour did make her retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire: His heart, like an agat with your print impreffed,

Proud

such amazes,

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Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed:
His tongue, all'impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with häfte in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on faireft of fair ;
Methought, all his senfes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in chryftal for some Prince to buy ;
Who tendring their own worth, from whence they were

glaft,
Did point out to bay them, along as you past.
His face's own margent

did

quote *That all eyes saw his eyes inchanted with

gazes : I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his, An you give him for my fake but one loving kiss.

Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos'd. Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his eye

hath disclos'd: I only have had a mouth of his eye, By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. Rofa. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakeft

skilfully. Mar. He is Gupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Rofa. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father

is but grim.
you
hear, my

mad wenches
Mar. No.
Boyet. What then, do

you

fee? Rofa. Ay, our way to be gone. Boyet. You are too hard for me. (11) Exeunt.

SCENE

Boyet. Do

(11) Boyet. You are too bard 'for me.] Here, in all the books, the 2d Act is made to end : but in my opinion very mistakenly. I have ventur'd to vary the regulation of the four last Acts from the printed copies, for theie reasons. Hitherto, the 2d Act has been of the extent of 7 pages; the 3d but of 5; and the fifth of no less than 29. And this disproportion of length has crouded too many incidents into fome Acts, and left the others quite barren. I have now reducej them into a much better equality; and distributed the business like. wise (such as it isy) into a more uniform caft. The plot now ! thus." In the first Act, Navarre and his companions sequefter themkelves, by oath, for three years from conversation, women, feasting, &c.

resolving

es

I 2

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