When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? 6 A leg, a limb? KING. Soft; Whither away so fast? A true man, or a thief, that gallops fo? Strange, which is not in the quarto or firft folio, was added by the editor of the fecond folio, and confequently any other word as well as that may have been the author's; for all the additions in that copy were manifeftly arbitrary, and are generally injudicious. MALONE. Slight as the authority of the fecond folio is here represented to be, who will venture to difplace ftrange, and put any other word in its place? STEEVENS. I agree with the editors in confidering this paffage as erroneous, but not in the amendment propofed. That which I would fuggeft is, to read moon-like, inftead of men-like, which is a more poetical expreffion, and nearer to the old reading than vane-like. M. MASON. I have not fcrupled to place this happy emendation in the text; remarking at the fame time that a vane is no where styled inconftant, although our author bestows that epithet on the moon in Romeo and Juliet: the inconftant moon "That monthly changes" Again, in Antony and Cleopatra: now from head to foot "I am marble-conftant, now the fleeting moon Again, more appofitely, in As you like it: "being but a moonifh youth, changeable,"-inconftant, &c. MALONE. In pruning me?] A bird is faid to prune himself when he picks and fleeks his feathers. So, in K. Henry IV. P. I: 6 "Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up STEEVENS. a gait, a ftate,] State, I believe, in the prefent instance, is oppofed to gait, (i. e. motion) and fignifies the act of standing. So, in Antony and Cleopatra: "Her motion and her ftation are as one." STEEVENS. If it mar nothing neither, COST. Nay, it makes nothing, fir. KING. The treason, and you, go in peace away together. F42. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read; Our parfon misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. - KING. Biron, read it over. Where hadst thou it? F42. Of Coftard. [Giving him the letter. KING. Where hadft thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. KING. How now! what is in you? why doft thou tear it? BIRON. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs not fear it. LONG. It did move him to paffion, and therefore let's hear it. DUM. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. [Picks up the pieces. BIRON. Ah, you whorefon loggerhead, [To CosTARD.] you were born to do me fhame. Our parfon-] Here, as in a former inftance, in the authentick copies of this play, this word is fpelt perfon; but there being no reafon for adhering here to the old spelling, the modern is pre ferred. MALONE. Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confefs, I confefs. 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, BIRON. True true; we are four : Will these turtles be gone? KING. Hence, firs; away. COST. Walk afide the true folk, and let the traitors ftay. [Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA. BIRON. Sweet lords, fweet lovers, O let us embrace! As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The fea will ebb and flow, heaven fhow his face; Young blood will not obey an old decree: We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore, of all hands muft we be forfworn. KING. What, did these rent lines fhow fome love of thine? BIRON. Did they, quoth you? Who fees the heavenly Rofaline, That, like a rude and favage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous caft,7 Bows not his vaffal head; and, ftrucken blind, Kiffes the bafe ground with obedient breaft? What peremptory eagle-fighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majefty? KING. What zeal, what fury hath infpir'd thee now? the gorgeous Eaft.] Milton has tranfplanted this into the third line of the fecond book of Paradife Loft: "Or where the gorgeous Ecft-." STEEVENS. My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; 8 BIRON. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón : 9 O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull'd fovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,- 2 She paffes praife; then praise too fhort doth A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. She, an attending far,] Something like this is a ftanza of Sir Henry Wotton, of which the poetical reader will forgive the infertion: "You meaner beauties of the night, "That poorly fatisfy our eyes "More by your number than your light, "You common people of the skies, "What are you when the fun shall rife?" JOHNSON. 66 Micat inter omnes "Julium fidus, velut inter ignes "Luna minores." HOR. MALONE. 9 My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón:] Here, and indeed throughout this play, the name of Birón is accented on the fecond fyllable. In the first quarto, 1598, and the folio, 1623, he is always called Beroune. From the line before us it appears, that in our author's time the name was pronounced Birosn. MALONE. 2 To things of fale a feller's praife belongs;] So, in our author's 21ft Sonnet: "I will not praise, that purpose not to fell." MALONE. O, 'tis the fun, that maketh all things fhine! KING. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. BIRON. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! 3 A wife of fuch wood were felicity. O, who can give an oath? where is a book? That I may fwear, beauty doth beauty lack, If that the 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; 5 And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well." BIRON. Devils fooneft tempt, refembling fpirits of light. 3 Is ebony like her? O wood divine!] Word is the reading of all the editions that I have feen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewife conjectured,) O wood divine!" THEOBALD. 4 beauty doth beauty lack, If that he learn not of her eye to look: No face is fair, that is not full fo black.] So, in our poet's 132d Sonnet : 66 those two mourning eyes become thy face: "O, let it then as well befeem thy heart "Then will I fwear, beauty herself is black, See alfo his 127th Sonnet. MALONE. Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night;] In former editions: the fchool of night." Black being the School of night, is a piece of myftery above my comprehenfion. I had guefied, it fhould be: 66 the ftole of night:" but I have preferred the conjecture of my friend Mr. Warburton, who reads: the fcowl of night,” as it comes nearer in pronunciation to the corrupted reading, as well as agrees better with the other images. THEOBALD. In our author's 148th Sonnet we have "Who art as black as hell, as dark as night." MALONE. |