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Long.

Dum. As upright as the cedar.
Biron.

Stoop, I say; Her shoulder is with child.

(Aside. Dum.

As fair as day. Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.

Aside. Dum. O that I had my wish!

And I had mine!

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

[ Ăside. 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;5 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, sich to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.

every place where it occurs in these plays; and the meaning is, that amber itself is regarded as foul, when compared with her hair.

why, then incision Would let her out in saucers ;] It was the fashion among the young gallants of that age, to stab themselves in the arms, or elsewhere, in order to drink their mistress's health, or write her name in their blood, as a proof of their passion.

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:
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 pas

sion :

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.

[T. DUMAIN. What will Birón 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 re

prove These worms for loving, that art most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches;o 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 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 !

Your eyes do make no coaches;] Alluding to a passage in the king's sonnet:

“ No drop but as a coach doth carry thee." 7- teen!] i. e. grief.

8 To see a king transformed to a gnat!] Biron is abusing the king for his sonneting like a minstrel, and compares him to a gnat, which always sings as it flies.

To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critick Timono 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
With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
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.

9- critick Timon-1 Critic and critical are used by our author in the same sense as cynic and cynical.

i In pruning me?] A bird is said to prune himself when he picks and sleeks his feathers. l a gait, a state,] State, I believe, in the present instance, is opposed to gait (i, e. the motion) and signifies the act of standing.

Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
King.

If it mar nothing neither, The treason, and you, go in peace away toge

ther. Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be

read; 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 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.

True true; we are four:
Will these turtles be gone?
King.

Hence, sirs; away.
Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors

stay. [Exeunt Cost. and JAQUENET.

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