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Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the accent: let me supervise

the canzoneta. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man : and why, indeed, Naso; but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was

this directed to you? JAQ. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen's lords c. Hol. I will overglance the superscript. "To the snow-white hand of the most

beauteous Lady Rosaline." I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto:

“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, or by way of progression, hath miscarried.— Trip and go, my sweet ; deliver this paper into the 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 your life! Cost. Have with thee, my girl.

(Exeunt Cost, and JAQ. Natu. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a

certain father saithHOL. 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 pen. Hoi. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine ; where if, be

fore repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the aforesaid child or pupil, undertake your ben renuto ; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned,

neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society. NATH. And thank you too: for society (saith the text) is the happiness of life. HOL. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.

Sir, I do invite you too ; you shall not say me nay: pauca verba.
Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation".


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In the early editions Sir Nathaniel continues the speech. It clearly belongs to Holofernes.

Tired-caparisoned; adorned with trappings. * Biron was one of the king's lords; but it was the vocation of Jaquenetta to blunder. • Writing. The original copies have written—an obvious error. Before is the reading of the quarto; the folio has being. We print these lines, which Holofernes addresses to Dull

, as they stand in the original. They are undoubtedly meant for verses; and yet they do not rhyme. What form of pedantry is this ? If we open Sydney's 'Arcadia,

' and other books of that age, we shall know what Shakspere was laughing at. The lines are hexameters, and all the better for being very bad. They are as good as those of Sydney, we think:

“Fair rocks, goodly rivers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? Peace.

Peace? what bars me my tongue? who is it that comes so nigh? I."

SCENE III.-Another part of the same.

Enter BIRON with a paper.

BIRON. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have

pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles; defile! a foul word. Well, Set thee down, sorrow! for so they 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 o' my side! I will not love: if 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, I 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:-In 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 smot:

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 woe:
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will show :
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt 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 griefs? I'll drop the paper;
Sweet leaves shade folly. Who is he comes here?

[Steps aside.

• This is a modern direction. The original has, " He stands aside."

Smot-the old preterite of smote.

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, wearing papers a.

[Aside. King. In love, I hope: Sweet 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 move :

O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

These numbers will I tear and write in prose.
Biron. (Aside.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose :

Disfigure not his slop.
This same shall go.-

[He reads the sonnet.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye

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

Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A 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 gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is :

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost 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 paradised?

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.

• The perjure—the perjurer—when exposed on the pillory wore “papers of perjury.” We have the phrase in ‘Leicester's Commonwealth.'

Guards—the hems or boundaries of a garment-generally ornamented. * Slop. The original, shop. Tieck prefers shop; but slop was a part of Cupid's dress: “A German from the waist downward, all slops," says Don Pedro, in ‘Much Ado about Nothing.' A clothesman is still a slop-seller.Theobald made the change. Mr. Collier reads shape, upon the authority of the MS. corrector of Lord F. Egerton's copy of the folio of 1623.”

* See · The Passionate Pilgrim' for this sonnet.

Enter DUMAIN, with a paper.

[Stepping aside.






Long. By whom shall I send this ? - Company! stay.
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 transformed : four woodcocks in a dish!
DUM. O most divine Kate !

O most profane coxcomb!
Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron. By earth, she is not; corporal, there you lie.
Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted b.
Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
Dum. As upright as the cedar.

Stoop, I say;
Her shoulder is with child.

As fair as day.
BIRON. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
Dum. O that I had my wish!

And I had mine!
KING. And I mine too, good lord !
BIRON. 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. 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. Once more I 'll mark how love can vary wit.

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 !

Aside. [.Aside. (Aside.



. She is not; corporal. The received reading is “She is but corporal.” Ours is the ancient reading; and Douce repudiates the modern change. Biron calls Dumain corporal, as he had formerly named himself (Act III.) “corporal of his field,”—of Cupid's field.


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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! Ili, 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 :
Ah me! says one; 0 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.

What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will be 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.

* Pope introduced ev'n—other editors even-neither of which is the reading of the originals, or required by the rhythm. Malone, in a note on the same line in "The Passionate Pilgrim,' says, " swear is here used as a dissyllable!” This exquisite canzonet is also given, with variations, in “The Passionate Pilgrim.'

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