Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-Another part of the same. the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Lords, attendants, and a Forester.

Enter
Boyet,

Enter Costard.

Prin. Here comes a member of the common wealth.

Cost. God dig-you-den' all! Pray you, which u the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth
is truth.

An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One of these maids' girdles for your waist should
be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest
here.

Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will?
Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to ore
lady Rosaline.

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine:

Stand aside, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve ; Break up this eapon. Boyet. I am bound to serve.This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse It is writ to Jaquenetta. so hard

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting
mind.

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.-
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.

Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O base and obscure vulgar !) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the king; Why did he come? to see; Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for wo! What saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? For. Yea, madam, fair. the beggar: The conclusion is victory; On whose Prin. Nay, never paint me now; side? the king's: the captive is enriched; On whose Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. side? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a nuptial; Here, good my glass, take this for telling true; On whose side? the king's-no, on both in one, or [Giving him money, one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comFair payment for foul words is more than due. parison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: Prin. Sec, see, my beauty will be sav❜d by merit. Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat O heresy in fair, fit for these days! thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.-rags? robes; For tittles, titles: For thyself, me.

For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again no?

But come, the bow:-Now mercy goes to kill,

A shooting well is then accounted ill.

If wounding, then it was to show my skill,

Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy
foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
every part.

Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado.

That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar

And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as mis prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, And he from forage will incline to play:
We bend to that the working of the heart:
As 1, for praise alone, now seek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sove-
reignty

Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.

(1) God give you good even.

(2) Open this letter. (3) Illustrious.

But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited
this letter?

What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember

the style.

Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er erewhile."

(4) Just now.

Scene II.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

Boyet. Th Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it here in court;

were, so fit.

A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty man!
To the prince, and his book-mates.
Prin.
Who gave thee this letter?
Cost.
I told you; my lord. And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
Prin. To whom should'st thou give it?
Cost.
From my lord to my lady. Sola, sola!
Prin. From which lord, to which lady?
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, SCENE II.-The same.

To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan

Thou, fellow, a word: To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly
a' will swear!-

To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter.

lords, away.

day.

Come,

[Shouting within.
[Exit Costard, running

Enter Holofernes, Sir

Nathaniel, and Dull.

Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in

Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another the testimony of a good conscience.
[Exit Princess and Train. Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,-
blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth
Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?
Shall I teach you to know?like a jewel in the ear of calo,-the sky, the welkin,
Ros.
the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Ros.
Why, she that bears the bow. face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth.
Finely put off!
Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou

marry,

Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!

Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet.
And who is your deer?
Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come

near.

Finely put on, indeed!

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now?

a

Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. Ros. Thou canst not hit tt, hit it, hit it. [Singing. Thou canst not hit it, my good man. Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can. [Exeunt Ros. and Kath. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it!

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they

both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A mark, says my lady!

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it
may be.

Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith, your hand
is out.

Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er
hit the clout.

Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your

hand is in.

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving

the pin.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips
grow foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; chal-
lenge her to bowl.

Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; Good night, my good owl. [Exeunt Boyet and Maria. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit

(1) A species of apple.

(2) A low fellow.

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explica tion; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,-after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or ratherest, uncon firmed fashion-to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said, the deer was not a laud credo; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!-0 thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of t... dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts;

And such barren plants are set before us, that we
thankful should be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts
that do fructify in us more than he.
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet,
or a fool,

So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him

in a school:

But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.

Duil. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your wit,

What was a month old at Cain's birth, that s 791 five weeks old as yet?

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good man Dull.

Dull. What is Dictynna?

Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moor.
Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam

was no more;

And raught not to five weeks, when he came to five

and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the prin- Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithfu ress kill'd.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour

prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.

the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine kill'd, a pricket.

Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge;| so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.

Hol. I will something affect the letter; for it argues facility.

The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;

Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.

The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;

Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting.

If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; O

sore

Of one sore I a hundred make, by adding but

one more L.

Nath. A rare talent!

If

eyes;

Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend:

knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suf

fice;

Well learned is that tongue, that well can the

commend:

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without won der;

(Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire ;)

Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice hi dreadful thunder,

Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue!

Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here him with a talent. are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovia foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, dius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso; shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: so doth memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater; and the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired deilver'd upon the mellowing of occasion: But the horse' his rider.-But damosella virgin, was thus gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am directed to you?

Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of

thankful for it. Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so the strange queen's lords. may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd Hol. I will overglance the superscript. To the by you, and their daughters profit very greatly un-snow-white hana the most beauteous Lady Rosader you: you are a good member of the common-line. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, wealth. for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto:

Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they nall want no instruction: if their daughters be apable, I will put it to them: But, vir sapit, qui| auca loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us.

Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.

Jaq. God give you good morrow, master person. Hol. Master parson, quasi pers-on. And if one should be pierced, which is the one?

Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.

Your ladyship's in all desired employment,

BIRON. Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.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 Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of your life!

conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well.

Jaq. Good raster parson, be so good as read me this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it.

Hol. Fauste, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne
sub umbra.

Ruminat, and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan!
I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
Vinegia, Vinegia,

[Exeunt Cost. and Jaq. very religiously; and, as a certain father saithNath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God,

Hol. 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 per..

pupil of mine; where if, before repast, it shall Hol. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the fore where I will prove those verses to be very unlearnsaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; ed, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention.

Chi non le vede, ei non te pregia. Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not.-Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Hcrace says in his-What, my soul, verses? I beseech your society. Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.

Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege,

lomine.

Nath. If love make me fossworn, how shall

swear to love?

I

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty

vowed!

1 Horse adorned with ribbands.

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

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

(2) In truth.

SCENE III-Another part of the same. Enter These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Biron, with a paper.
Biron. [Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton
Cupid's hose:

Long.

This same snall go.

[He reads the sonnet.

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

A

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am Disfigure not his slop. coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile!' a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. 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: 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, 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 will keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.-
How shall she know my grief? 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,
appear!
[Aside.

Long. Ah me! I am forsworn.

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

is :

Vows, for thee broke, deserve nol punishment.
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 gained, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour
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.

stay.

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

Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber
coted.'

Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
[Aside.
Stoop, I say;
[Aside.

Dum. As upright as the cedar.
Biron.

Her shoulder is with child.
Dum.

Biron. Ay, as some days;

As fair as day. but then no sun must [Aside.

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

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

ing papers. King. In love, I hope Swee: fellowship in 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 society,

The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.

Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to

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
wit.
[Aside.

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.

Y

170

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

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.

Long. Dumain, [advancing.] thy love is far from
charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:
Yu may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

King Come, sir, [advancing.] you blush;
his your case is such;

as

You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion;
Saw sighs reck from you, noted well your passion:
Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise 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 infring'd, which such a zeal did swear?
How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me.
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.-
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:
[Descends from the tree.
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These 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;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?"
You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
0, what a scene of foolery I have seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!!
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumain?
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:-
A caudle, ho!
Too bitter is thy jest.
King.

(1) Grief. (2) Cynic. (3) In trimming myself.

Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?
Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you;
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in ;
I am betrayed, by keeping company
With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme i
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?

King.

Soft; Whither away so fast!
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
Biron. I post from love; good lover, let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.

Jaq. God bless the king!
King.

What present hast thou there?

Cost. Some certain treason.

What makes treason here?
King.
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
If it mar nothing neither,
King.
Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read;
The treason, and you, go in peace away together.
Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said.
King. Biron, read it over. [Giving him the letter.
Where hadst thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
King. How now! what is in you? why dost

thou tear it?

Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs not fear it.

Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.

Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To Cos tard. you were born to do me shame. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess :

He, he, and you, my licge, and I,

Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.
Biron.

True, true; we are four :-
Will these turtles be gone?

King.

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the trai

tors stay.

Hence, sirs, away.

[Exeunt Cost, and Jaq.

Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us cra

brace!

As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: Young blood will not obey an old decree: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine?

Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,

That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty?
King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd the
now?