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,
Neer 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 :

[Aside.

(*) First folio and quarto omit I. (+) First folio, every. (1) First folio and quarto, can. ↑ By earth, she is not; corporal, there you lie.] This is usually mad

"By earth she is but corporal," &c.

but the old lection is to me more intelligible than the new. Biron has previously called himself a corporal of Cupid's field; he now terms Dumain corporal in the same sense, but uses the word for

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 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:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

KING. Come, sir [advancing], 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 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 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;

;

[TO LONG.
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
[TO DUMAIN.
What will Biron 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.—
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?

(*) First folio, On.

corporeal also, in allusion to the mortal eye of the preceding line. b Wish'd himself-] The old editions have wish here for wish'd; and, a little lower, throne instead of thorn. The corrections were made in "England's Helicon," 1600, where this poem appeared. c No coaches;] An allusion to the line in the King's sonnet :— "No drop but as a coach doth carry thee." The old copies have couches.

You found his mote ; the king your mote* did

see;

a

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 transformed 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 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 betray'd, by keeping company

groan

With men-like men, of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or 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.

a A king transformed to a gnat!] Instead of gnat, which seems to be without meaning in this place, it has been proposed to read knot or sot; but both are rhythmically inadmissible. I have some notion that the true word is quat, which appears to have been a cant term applied to a simpleton, or green-horn. Thus Iago, "Othello," Act V. Sc. 1, speaking of his silly tool Roderigo, says: "I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense," &c. So also, in Decker's "Gul's Hornbook," 1609: "-whether he be a yong quat of the first yeere's revennew, or some austere and sullen-fac'd steward." It is worth remarking, too, that in the passage from "Othello," quoted above, the early quarto prints gnat for quat.

name.

DUM. It is Biron's writing, and here is his [Picks up the pieces. BIRON. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead [to CosTARD], 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

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;

*First folio, are.

b With men-like men, of strange inconstancy.] So the old copies, except that they omit strange, which was added by the editor of the folio, 1632. As the expression men-like men is obscure, Hanmer reads "vane-like men;" Mason proposes "moon-like men;" and Mr. Collier suggests that we should read

"With men-like women of inconstancy." Which, but that men-like might have been a term of reproach as man-kind was, I should have preferred to either of the other emendations.

Or groan for Joan?] The quarto in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire reads, "Or grone for Love."

She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. BIRON. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron: 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.

A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,

a She, an attending star,-] It was a prevailing notion formerly that the moon had an attending star. Lilly calls it Lunisequa, and Sir Richard Hawkins, in his "Observations on a Voyage to the South Seas, in 1593," published in 1622, remarks:-"Some I have heard say, and others write, that there is a starre which

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy.
O, 't is the sun that maketh all things shine.!
KING. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
BIRON. Is ebony like her? O wood* divine !
A wife of such wood were felicity.

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

No face is fair, that is not full so black.
KING. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the stole + of night;
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.
BIRON. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits
of light.

O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair,

Should ravish doters with a false aspect;

And therefore is she 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-sweepers black.

LONG. And, since her time, are colliers counted bright.

KING. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.

DUM. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.

BIRON. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colours should be wash'd away. KING. 'T were good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,

I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.

BIRON. I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.

KING. No devil will fright thee then so much as she.

DUM. I never knew man hold vile stuff so
dear.

LONG. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her
face see.
[Showing his shoe.
BIRON. O, if the streets were paved with thine
eyes,

Her feet were much too dainty for such tread! DUM. O vile! then as she goes, what upward lies

The street should see as she walk'd over head. KING. But what of this? Are we not all in love?

BIRON. O, nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.

KING. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron,

now prove

Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. DUм. Ay, marry, there;-some flattery for this evil.

LONG. O, some authority how to proceed; Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. DUM. Some salve for perjury.

BIRON. O, 't is more than need!-Have at you then, affection's men at arms:* Consider, what you first did swear unto ;To fast, to study, and to see no woman:Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young; And abstinence engenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, In that each of you hath forsworn his book:

A Affection's men at arms :] That is to say, Love's soldiers.

b Such beauty as a woman's eye?] Mr. Collier's annotator suggests, "Such learning," &c. If any change is necessary, I should prefer reading, "Such study," &c.

(4)

Why, universal plodding poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries;
As motion, and long-during action, tires
The sinewy vigour of the traveller.
Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes;
And study too, the causer of your vow:
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches such 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 see 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 forsworn 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 beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practisers,
Scarce show 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 swift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind:
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails:
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in

taste:

For valour, is not Love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?
Subtle as sphynx; as sweet, and musical,
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.

(*) Old editions, Make.

e We see in ladies' eyes,-] After this line, the words, "With ourselves," have, apparently by inadvertence, been inserted in the early copies. See Note (4), Illustrative Comments on Act IV.

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

*

For charity itself fulfils the law;

And who can sever love from charity?

KING. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!

BIRON. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;

Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis'd, In conflict that you get the sun of them.

(*) Old editions, author.

That will betime, &c.] This is invariably printed, "That will be fime," &c.; with what meaning, I am at a loss to know. If betime is right, it appears to be used like beteem, from the Anglo-Saxon, Tym-an, to bear, to yield, &c.; but I suspect Shakespeare wrote, "That will betide," &c., i. e. will fall out, will come to pass, &c.

b Allons! Allons!-] The old copies, read, "Alone, alone;" which may be right, and mean along. The word occurs again

LONG. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by; Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? KING. And win them too: therefore let us devise

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 some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
KING. Away, away! no time shall be omitted,
That will betime," and may by us be fitted.
BIRON. Allons! Allons ! b - Sow'd cockle
reap'd no corn;

And justice always whirls in equal measure: Light wenches may prove plagues to men for

at the end of the first scene of Act V. of this Play, in "The Tempest," Act IV. Sc. 1,-Let's alone, where it has been the source of interminable controversy; and in other places in these dramas,-in the sense of along; and, in every instance, it is spelt alene. I find it with the same meaning in Beaumont and Fletcher's Play of "The Loyal Subject," Act III. Sc. 5, where it rhymes to gone; and could hardly, therefore, in that case. be a misprint.