A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.
Long. By whom shall I send this?-Company! stay.

[Steps aside. Biron [aside]. All hid, all hid, an old infant play. Like a demigod 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!

Enter DUMAIN, with a paper.

Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum. O most divine Kate!

Biron [aside]. O most profane coxcomb!

Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron [aside]. By earth, she is but corporal: (52) there
you lie.

Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber quoted.
Biron [aside]. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
Dum. As upright as the cedar.

Biron [aside].

Her shoulder is with child.

Dum.

Stoop, I say;

As fair as day.

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

shine.

Dum. O that I had my wish!

Long. [aside]

And I had mine!

King [aside]. And I (53) mine too, good Lord!

Biron [aside]. Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word?
Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she

Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.

Biron [aside]. A fever in your blood! why, then incision Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!

Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
Biron [aside]. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
Dum. [reads]

"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, can(54) passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd(55) 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 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(56) pain.
O, would the king, Birón, 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. [advancing] Dumain, thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:

You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,

To be o'erheard and taken napping so.

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

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 wreathèd 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 reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ay 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;
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
What will Birón say when that he shall hear
Faith infringed, which such 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.

[To Long. [To Dum.

[Descends from the tree.

Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me!
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches; (57) 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.

O, what a scene of foolery have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformèd to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon tuning a jig,
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!

King.

Too bitter is thy jest.

Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you to me, but I betray'd by you:(58)

I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engagèd in;
I am betray'd, by keeping company

With men like you, men of inconstancy.(59)
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for Joan ?(60) 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!

The treason and you go in peace away together.

Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read: Our person(61) misdoubts it; it was treason, he said.

King. Biron, read it over.

Where hadst thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

[Giving him the letter.

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

[Biron tears the letter.

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 Birón's writing, and here is his name.

[Picking up the pieces. Biron [to Costard]. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! 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,—and you, my liege,—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.

Will these turtles be gone?

King.

True, true; we are four.

Hence, sirs; away!

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.

Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace!

As true we are as flesh and blood can be:

The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face;
Young blood doth not obey an old decree:
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 thee now?

My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;

She an attending star, scarce seen a light.

Biron. My eyes are, then, no eyes, nor I Birón:
O, but for my love, day would turn to night!

Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;

Where several worthies make one dignity,

Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,-
Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not:

To things of sale a seller's praise belongs,

She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot.