O, who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may fwear, beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look :

No face is fair, that is not full fo black.
KING. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,

The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night; And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well.. BIRON. Devils fooneft tempt, refembling fpirits of light O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt,

It mourns, that painting, and ufurping hair, Should ravish doters with a false afpéct;

And therefore is the born to make black fair.

Her favour turns the fashion of the days;

For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,

Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. DUM. To look like her, are chimney-fweepers black. LONG. And, fince her time, are colliers counted bright. KING. And Ethiops of their fweet complexion crack. DUM. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. BIRON. Your miftreffes dare never come in rain,

For fear their colours fhould be wash'd away.
KING. 'Twere good, yours did; for, fir, to tell you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.

BIRON. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day here.
KING. No devil will fright thee then fo much as fhe.
DUM. I never knew man hold vile ftuff fo dear.
LONG. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face fee.
[Showing his fhoe

BIRON. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for fuch tread!
DUM. O vile! then as fhe goes, what upward lies
The street should fee as fhe walk'd over head,

KING. But what of this? Are we not all in love? BIRON. O, nothing fo fure; and thereby all forfworn. KING. Then leave this chat; and, good Birón, now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.

DUм. Ay, marry, there ;-fome flattery for this evil.
LONG. O, fome authority how to proceed;

Some tricks, fome quillets, how to cheat the devil.
DUM. Some falve for perjury.

BIRON. O, 'tis more than need!

Have at you then, affection's men at arms:
Confider, what you firft did fwear unto ;-
To faft, to study,-and to fee no woman;-
Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you faft? your ftomachs are too young;
And abstinence engenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to ftudy, lords,
In that each of you hath forfworn his book:
Can you ftill dream, and pore, and thereon look?
For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of ftudy's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:

They are the ground, the books, the academes,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, univerfal plodding prifons up

The nimble fpirits in the arteries;

As motion, and long-during action, tires
The finewy vigour of the traveller.

Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forfworn the use of eyes;
And ftudy too, the causer of your vow:
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches fuch beauty as a woman's eye?

Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewise is.
Then, when ourselves we fee in ladies' eyes,
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
O, we have made a vow to study, lords;
And in that vow we have forfworn our books;
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation, have found out
Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes
Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other flow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practifers,
Scarce fhow a harvest of their heavy toil;
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as fwift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious feeing to the eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest found,
When the fufpicious head of theft is stopp'd;
Love's feeling is more foft, and fenfible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled fnails;
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus grofs in taste :
For valour, is not love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hefperides?

Subtle as sphinx; as fweet, and musical,

As bright Apollo's lute, ftrung with his hair; And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony,

Never durft poet touch a pen to write,

I

Until his ink were temper'd with love's fighs;
O, then his lines would ravish favage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle ftill the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world;
Elfe, none at all in aught proves excellent :
Then fools you were, these women to forswear;
Or, keeping what is fworn, you will prove fools.
For wifdom's fake, a word that all men love;
Or for love's fake, a word that loves all men ;
Or for men's fake, the authors of thefe women;
Or women's fake, by whom we men are men;
Let us once lofe our oaths, to find ourselves,
Or elfe we lofe ourselves to keep our oaths:
It is religion, to be thus forfworn:

For charity itself fulfils the law;

And who can fever love from charity?

KING. Saint Cupid, then! and, foldiers, to the field! BIRON. Advance your ftandards, and upon them,

lords;

Pell-mell, down with them! but be firft advis'd,

In conflict that you get the fun of them.

LONG. Now to plain-dealing; lay thefe glozes by: Shall we refolve to woo these girls of France?

KING. And win them too: therefore let us devife

Some entertainment for them in their tents.

BIRON. First, from the park let us conduct them thither;
Then, homeward, every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon

We will with fome ftrange paftime folace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;

For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Fore-run fair Love, ftrewing her way with flowers.
KING. Away, away! no time fhall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
BIRON. Allons! Allons!-Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;
And juftice always whirls in equal meafure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forfworn;
If fo, our copper buys no better treasure. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. Another part of the fame.

Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL.

HOL. Satis quod fufficit.

NATH. I praise God for you, fir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and fententious; pleasant without fcurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and ftrange without herefy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.

HOL. Novi hominem tanquam te: His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrafonical. He is too picked, too fpruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.

NATH. A most fingular and choice epithet.

[Takes out his table-book. HOL. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor fuch fanatical phantafms, fuch infociable and point-devife companions; fuch rackers of orthography, as to speak, dout, fine, when VOL. II.

H