Long. The fame shall go.

[be reads the fonnet.

Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye

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

Vows, for thee broke, deferve not punishment:
A woman I forfwore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forfavore 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,
Exhal'ft 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. [afide.] This is the liver-vein (2), which makes flesh a deity;

A green goofe a goddefs: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend us, we are much out

o' th' way.

Enter Duinain.

Long. By whom fhall I fend this?

ftay.

-company? [tepping afide. Biron. [afide.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play; Like a demy-god, here fit I in the sky,

And wretched fools' fecrets heedfully 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.

one another? Or, what, indeed, can be understood by Cupid's Shop? It must 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 observe from old Family Pictures; but they are now worn only by Boors and Sea-taring Men: and we have Dealers whose fole Bufinefs it is to furnish the Sailors with Shirts, Jackets, &c. who are call'd Shop-men; and their Shops, Slop-hops. THEOBALD.

(2) The liver-vein.] The liver was anciently fuppofed to be the feat of love.

um D.

Dum. By heav'n the wonder of a mortal eye!.

Biron. By earth, fhe is but corporal (3); there you

lie.

[afide.

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

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

fhine.

Dum. O that I had my wish!

Long. And I had mine!

King. And I mine too, good Lord!

[afide.

[afide.

[aftde.

[afide.

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

word?

Dum. I would forget her, but a fever the

Reigns 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. Lafide.

Dumain reads his fonnet.

On a day, (alack the day!)

Love, whofe month is ever May,
Spy'd a bloffom paffing fair,

Playing in the wanton air:

(3) Old Edition: By Earth, he is not, corporal, there you lie.] Dumain, one of the Lovers in fpite of his. Vow to the contrary, thinking himself alone here, breaks out into fhort Soliloquies of Admiration on his Miftrefs; and Biron, who ftands behind as an Evesdropper, takes pleasure in contradicting his amorous Raptures. But Dumain was a young Lord He had no Sort of Poft in the Army: What Wit, or Allufion, then, can there be in Biron's calling him Corporal? I dare warrant, I have reftor'd the Poet's true meaning, which is this. Dumain calls his Mistress divine, and the Wonder of a mortal Eye; and Biron in Alat Terms denies thefe hyperbolical Praises. I fcarce need hint, that our Poet commonly uses corporal as corporeal. THEOBALD.

Through

Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unfeen, 'gan paffage find;
That the lover, fick to death,
Wifb'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, (quoth he) tby cheeks may blow
Air, would I might triumph fo (4) !
But, alack, my hand is fworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn.
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth fo apt to pluck a fweet.
Do not call it fin in me,
That I am forfworn for thee:

Thou, for whom ev'n Jove would fwear,
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

This will I fend, and fomething elfe more plain,
That shall express my true love's fafting pain; (5)
O, would the King, Biron and Longueville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example 111,

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'ft fociety: [coming forward. You may look pale; but I fhould blush, I know, To be o'er-heard, and taken napping fo.

fuch;

King. Come, Sir, you blush; as his, your cafe is [coming forward. You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not love Maria? Longueville Did never fonnet for her fake compile ; Nor never lay'd his wreathed arms athwart His loving bofom, to keep down his heart:

(4) Air, would I might triumph fo!] Perhaps we may better

read,

(5):

Ab! would I might triumph fo.

my true love's fafting pain;] I should rather chufe to read feftring, rankling.

WARBURTON.

There is no need of any alteration; fafting is longing, hungrya winting.

I have

I have been closely fhrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhimes, obferv'd your fashion;
Saw fighs reek from you, noted well your paflion.
Ay me! fays one; O Jove! the other cries;
Her hairs were gold, cryftal the other's eyes.
You would for Paradife break faith and troth

;

[To Long.

And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
[To Dumain.

What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
A faith infringed, which fuch zeal did fwear?
How will he fcorn; how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it (6)?
For all the wealth that ever I did fee,

I would not have him know fo much by me.
Biron. Now ftep I forth to whip hypocrifie.
Ah, good my Liege, I pray thee, pardon me.

[coming forward
Good heart, what grace haft thou thus to reprove
Thefe 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 thing;
Tufh; none but minstrels like of fonnetting.
But are you not afham'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 fcene of fool'ry have I seen,
Of fighs, of groans, of forrow, and of teen?
me, with what ftrict patience have I fat,

To fee a king transformed to a Knot (7) !
To fee great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon tuning a jigg!

(6) How will he triumph, LEAP, and laugh at it ?] We should certainly read, GEAP, i, e. jeer, ridicule.

WARBURTON.

To leap is to exult, to skip for joy. It mut stand. (7) To fee a King transformed to a Knot !] Knot has no fenfe that can fuit this place. We may read fat. The rhimes in this play are fuch as that fat and fot may be well enough admitted.

And

And Neftor play at pufh-pin with the boys,
And Cynic Timon laugh at idle toys (8)!
Where lyes thy grief? O tell me, good Dumain,
And gentle Longueville, where lyes thy pain?
And where my Liege's? all about the breaft?
A candle, hoa !

King. Too bitter is thy jeft.

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.

I am betray'd by keeping company

With men-like men (9), 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 fhall you hear, that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, 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 poft from love; good lover let me go.

Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.

Faq. God bless the King!

King. What Prefent hafl thou there?

Coft. Some certain Treafon.

King. What makes treafon here?
Coft. Nay, it makes nothing, Sir.
King. If it mar nothing neither,

The treason and you go in peace away together.
Jaq. I befeech your Grace, let this letter be read,
Our Parfon mifdoubts it: it was treafon, he faid.
King. Biron, read it over. [He reads the letter.
Where hadft thou it ?

(8)

CRITIC Timon- -] Ought evidently to be CYNIC.

(9) With MEN-like men,

and should be read thus,

WARBURTON,

-] This is a strange fenfeless line,

With VANE like men of strange inconftancy.

WARBURTON.

This is well imagined, but perhaps the poet may mean with

men like common men,

Faq.