quent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much: Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu! Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.-Sir, God save your life!

Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

[Exeunt Cost. and Jaq. Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saithHol. 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, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.

Nath. And thank you too: for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life.

Hol. And, certes,1 the text most infallibly concludes it.-Sir, [To Dull.] I do invite you too; you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our re[Exeunt.

creation.

SCENE III.—Another part of the same. Enter Biron, with a paper.

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am Coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile! a four word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool.

(1) In truth.

Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well proved again on my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i'faith, I will not. O, but her eye,by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in: Here comes one with a paper; God give him grace to groan! [Gets up into a tree.

Enter the King, with a paper.

King. Ah me!

Biron. [Aside.] Shot, by heaven!-Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:-I'faith secrets.

King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee, So ridest thou triumphing in my wo; Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through thy grief will show: But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!

No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.--

How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper;Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [Steps aside.

Enter Longaville, with a paper.

What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, ap

pear!

Long. Ah me! I am forsworn.

[Aside.

Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wear

ing papers.

King. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in

[Aside.

shame!

[Aside.

Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.

[Aside.

Long. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so? Biron. [Aside.] I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know:

Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of so

ciety,

The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up sim

plicity.

Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to

move:

O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. Biron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:

Disfigure not his slop.

Long.

This same shall go.

[He reads the sonnet.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye (Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,) Persuade my heart to this false perjury?

Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore; but, I will prove, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee; My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.

Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth shine,

Exhal'st 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 wise, To lose an oath to win a paradise?

Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity;

A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.

Enter Dumain, with a paper.

Long. By whom shall I send this?-Company!

stay.

[Stepping aside. Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play:

Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,

And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish; Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a dish! Dum. O most divine Kate!

Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [Aside. Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you [Aside. Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber

lie.

coted.1

Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.

As fair as day.

[Aside.

Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must

shine.

Dum. O that I had my wish!

(1) Outstripped, surpassed.

Long.
King. And I mine too, good Lord! [Aside.
Biron. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good

And I had mine! [Aside.

word?

[Aside. Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then inci

sion

Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision! [Aside. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have

writ.

Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary [Aside:

wit.

Dum. On a day (alack the day!)

Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack, my hand is sworn,

Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;

Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.

Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee:

Thou for whom even Jove would swear,
Juno but an Ethiop 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. -