Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

was the man.

lity, and golden cadence of poefie, caret: Ovidius Naso And why, indeed, Najo; but for fmeling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of nvention? imitari, is nothing: fo doth the hound his mafter, the ape his keeper, the try'd horfe his rider : But Damofella Virgin, was this directly to you?

Jaq. Ay, Sir, from one Monfieur Biron, to one of the ftrange Queen's Ladies.

Hol. I will overglance the fuperfcript. To the nowwhite hand of the most beauteous lady Rofaline. I will ook again on the intellect of the letter, for the nonination of the party writing to the perfon written

into.

Your Ladyship's in all defir'd employment, Biron.

This Biron is one of the votaries with the King; and here he hath fram'd a letter to a fequent of the ftranger Queen's, which accidentally, or by the way of progreffion, hath mifcarry'd. Trip and go, my fweet; deliver this paper into the hand of the King; it may concern much; ftay not thy complement; I forgive thy duty adieu.

Jaq. Good Coftard, go with me. Sir, God fave your life.

Coft. Have with thee, my girl. [Exe. Coft, and Jaq. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously and as a certain father faith

Hal. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses; did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?

Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.

Hol. I do dine to day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if (being repaft) it fhall please you to gratifie the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the aforefaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where will I prove thofe verfes to be very unlearned, neither favouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I befeech your fociety. Nath. And thank you too: for fociety (faith the text) is the happiness of life.

Hol.

Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly conclud it. Sir, I do invite you too; [To Dull.] you sh not fay me, nay: Pauca verba. Away, the gen are at their game, and we will to our recreation.

[Exeu

Enter Biron, with a paper in his hand, alone. Biron. The King is hunting the deer, I am courfi my felf. They have pitcht a toil, I am toiling in pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile! a foul word: we fet thee down, forrow; for fo they fay the fool fa and fo fay I, and I the fool. Well prov'd wit. the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax, it kills fhee it kills me, I a fheep. Well prov'd again on my fic I will not love; if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will n O, but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I wou not love; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothi in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heave I do love; and it hath taught me to rhime, and to melancholy; and here is part of my rhime, and he my melancholy. Well, the hath one o' my fonnets a ready; the clown bore it; the fool fent it, and the la hath it fweet clown, sweeter fool, fweeteft lady! the world, I would not care a pin if the other thr were in. Here comes one with a paper; God give hi grace to groan! [he ftands afic

King. Ay me!

Enter the King.

Biron. Shot, by heav'n! proceed, fweet Cupid; the haft thumpt him with thy bird-bolt under the left pay in faith, fecrets.

King. [reads.] So fweet a kifs the golden fun gives n
To those fresh morning drops upon the rofe,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have fmote
The night of dew, that on my cheeks down flows;
Nor fhines the filver moon one half fo bright,

Through the tranfparent bofom of the deep,

At doth thy face through tears of mine cive linha

No drop, but as a coach doth carry thee,
So rideft thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that fwell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will fhew; But do not love thy felf, then thou wilt keep My tears for glaffes, and ftill make me weep. O Queen of Queens, how far doft thou excel! No thought can think, no tongue of mortal tell.

How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Sweet leaves, fhade folly. Who is he comes here? [The King feps afide.

Enter Longaville.

What! Longaville! and reading! liften, ear.
Biron. Now in thy likeness one more fool appears.
Long. Ay me! I am forfworn.

Biron. Why, he comes in like a Perjure, wearing

papers.

King. In love, I hope; fweet fellowship in fhame.
Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long. Am I the firft, 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 fociety,

The fhape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up fimplicity. Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to

move:

O fweet Maria, Emprefs of my love,

These numbers will I tear, and write in profe.

Biron. O, rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose : Disfigure not his flop. (22)

Long.

[22] Oh, Rhymes are Guards on wanton Cupid's Hofe ; Disfigure not his Shop] All the Editions happen to concur in this Error; but what Agreement in Senfe is there berwixt Cupid's Hofe and his Shop? Or, what Relation can those two Terms have to one another? Or, what, indeed, can be under

ftood

Long. The fame fhall go.

The reads the fonnet.

Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye
('Gainft whom the world cannot hold argument)
Perfwade my heart to this falfe perjury,

Vows, for thee broke, deferve not punishment:
A woman I forfwore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forfwore not thee.
My vow was earthy, thou a heav'nly love:
Thy grace, being gain'd, cures all difgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then thou fair fun, which on my earth doft shine,
Exhalf this vapour-vow; in thee it is;

If broken then, it is no fault of mine ;
If by me broke, what fool is not fo wife
To lofe an oath to win a Paradife?

Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity;

A green goofe a goddefs: pure, pure idolatry.

God amend us, God amend, we are much out o' th' way.

Enter Dumain.

Long. By whom fhall I fend this?

ftay.

company?

Biron. All hid, all hid, an old infant play; Like a demy-god, here fit I in the sky,

And wretched fools' fecrets head fully o'er-eye :

More facks to the mill! O heav'ns, I have my wish; Dumain transform'd? four woodcocks in a difh?

Dum. O moft divine Kate!

Biron. O moft prophane coxcomb!

[afide.

ftood by Cupid's Shop? It muft undoubtedly be corrected, as I have reform'd the Text. Slops are large and wide-kneed Breeches, the Garb in Fashion in our Author's Days, as we may obferve from old Family Pictures; but they are now worn only by Boors and Sea-faring Men: and we have Dealers whofe fole Bufinefs it is to furnish the Sailors with Shirts, Jackets, &c. who are call'd, Stop-men; and their Shops, Stepshops.

Dum.

Love's Labour's loft.

217

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

[afide.

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

[blocks in formation]

Biron. Ay, as fome days; but then no fun must

fhine.

[afide.

Dum. O that I had my wish!

Long. And I had mine!

[afide.

King. And mine too, good Lord!

[afide.

Biron, Amen, so I had mine! Is not that a good

word ?

[afide.

Dum. I would forget her, but a fever she

eigns in my blood, and will remembred be.

Biron. A fever in your blood! why then, incifion Would let her out in fawcers, fweet mifprifion. [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 his fonnet.

On a day, (alack, the day!)
Love, whofe month is ever May,

(23) By Earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.] Dumaine, e of the Lovers in fpite of his Vow to the contrary, thinkg himself alone here, breaks out into fhort Soliloquies of dmiration on his Miftrefs; and Biron, who ftands behind as

Eves-dropper, takes Pleasure in contradicting his amorous aptures. But Dumaine was a young Lord: He had no Sort Poft in the Army: What Wit, or Allufion, then, can there in Biron's calling him Corporal? I dare warrant, I have reOr'd the Poet's true Meaning, which is this. Dumaine calls s Miftrefs divine, and the Wonder of a mortal Eye; and ron in flat Terms denies thefe hyperbolical Praises. I fcarce ed hint, that our Poet commonly uses corporal, as corporeal.

« PredošláPokračovať »