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And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongu'd Boyet.

King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my heart,
That put Armado's Page out of his part!
Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Catharine, Boyet,

and Attendants,

Biron. See, where it comes; behaviour, what wert thou, 'Till this man fhew'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet Madam, and fair time of day!

Prin. Fair in all hail is foul, as I conceive. King. Conftrue my speeches better, if you may.

Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We come to visit you, and purpose now

To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow :

Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that, which you provoke : The virtue of your eye must break my

oath. Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should have

For virtue's office never breaks mens troth.

" the person so denominated. And now I will give the reason of my “ rule. In the less-used metaphors, our mind is fo turn'd upon the " image which the metaphor conveys, that it expects that that image "** ihould be for a little time continued, by terms proper to keep it up. “ But if, for want of these terms, the image be no sooner presented, “ but dropt; the mind suffers a kind of violence by being called off “ unexpectedly and suddenly from its contemplation, and from hence “ the broken, disjointed, and mixe metaphor shocks us. But when the

metaphor is worn and hackney'd by common use, even the first * mention of it does not raise in the mind the image of itself, but “ immediately presents the idea of the substance: and then to endea

vour to continue the image, and keep it up in the mind by proper “ adapted terms, would, on the other hand, have as ill an effect; be“ cause the mind is already gone off from the metaphorical image to " the substance. Grammatical criticks would do well to consider “ what has beeu here said, when they set upon amending Greek and Roman writings. For the much-used, hackney'd metaphors in “ those languages must now be very imperfectly known: and con“ seqnently, without great caution, they will be subject to act teme« rariousy."


Now, by my maiden honous, yet as pure

As the unfully'd lilly, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,

I would not yield to be your house's guelt:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heav'nly oaths, vow'd

with integrity.
King. O, you have liv’d in defolation here,

Unseen, unvifited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my Lord; it is not so, I swear;

We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game.
A mess of Russians left us but of late.

King. How, Madam? Rufians ?

Prin. Ay, in truth, my Lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.

Roja. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my Lord:
My Lady (to the manner of the days)
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.

. We four, indeed, confronted were with four, In Rufian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my Lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

Biron. This jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wise things foolish ; when we greet
With eyes beft seeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light ; your capacity
Is of that nature, as to your huge store
Wise things seem foolis, and rich things but poor.

Rofa. This proves you wise and rich; for in my eyemme
Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Rosa. But that you take what doth to yoa belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I posiess.
Rofa. All the fool mine ?
Biron. I cannot give you lefs.
Rofa. Which of the vizors was it, that you wore?
Biron. Where when? what vizor? why demand you this?
Rofa. There, then, that vizor, that superfluous case,



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That hid the worse, and thew'd the better face.

King. We are descried; they'll mock us now downright.
Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jeft.
Prin. Amaz’d, my Lord ? why looks your Highness fad?
Rofa. Help, hold his brows, he'll swoon: why look you

pale ? Sea-fick, I think, coming from Mufcovy. Biron. Thus pour the Itars down plagues for perjury.

Can any face of brass hold longer out ? Here stand I, Lady, dart thy kill at me ;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout, Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance ;

Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; And I will with thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Ruffian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches pen'd,

Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue ; Nor never come in vizor to my friend,

Nor woo in rhime like a blind harper's song; Taffata-phrafes, filken terms precise,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation. Figures pedantical, these summer-flies,

Have blown me full of maggot oftentation, I do forswear thom

hom; ana i here protett, By this white glove, (how white the hand, God

knows !)
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expreft

In russet yeas, and honest kersy noes:
And to begin, wench, so God help me, law,
My love to thee is found, fans crack or flaw.

Rofa. Sans, sans, I pray you.

Biron. Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage : bear with me, I am sick.
I'll leave it by degrees: soft, let us see ;
Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes :
These Lords are visited, you are not free ;
For the Lord's tokens on you both I see.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us.
Biron. Our states are forfeit, leek not to undo us.
Roja. It is not fo; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue ?

Biron. Peace, for I will not have to do with you.
Rofa. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end.

King. Teach us, sweet Madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse.

Prin. The fairest is confeffion.
Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd?

King. Madam, I was.
Prin. And were you well advis’d?.
King. I was, fair Madam.

Prin. When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your Lady's ear?

King. That more than all the world I did respect her.
Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will rejecther.
King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin. Peace, peace, forbear :
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

King. Despise me when I break this oath of mine.

Prin. I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline, What did the Ruffian whisper in your ear?

Rofa. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-fight; and did value me Above this world, adding thereto moreover, That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble Lord Moft honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this Lady such an oath.

Rofa. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, to th' Princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she wear: And Lord Biron, I thank him, is


dear, What? will you have me? or your pearl again ?

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Biron. Neither of either : I remit both twain.
I see the trick on't; here was a consent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
T'o dash it like a Christmas comedy.
Some carry-tale, fome please-man, some flight zany,
Some mumble-news, fome trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in jeers, and knows the trick (48)
To make my Lady laugh, when she’s dispos’d,
Told our intents before; which once disclos’d,
The Ladies did change favours, and then we,
Following the figns, woo'd but the sign of the :
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn, in will and error.
Much upon this it is. - And might not you [To Boyet.
Fore!tal our sport, to make us thus untrue ?
Do not you know my Lady's foot by th' squier,

And laugh upon the apple of her eye,
And stand between her back, Sir, and the fire,

Holding a trencher, jefting merrily?
You put our page out: go, you are allow'd ;
Die when you will, a smock shall be


shroud. You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet. Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting strait. Peace, I have done.

Enter Costard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou parteft a fair fray.

Caft. O Lord, Sir, they would know
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
Biron. What, are there but three ?

Coft. No, Sir, but it is yara fine ;
For every one pursents three.

Biron. And three times thrice is nine?

(48) T bat Smiles bis cheek in years,] Thus the whole set of impresfions: but I cannot for my heart comprehend the sense of this phrafe. I am persuaded, I have restor'd the poet's word and meaning. Boyer's character was that of a fleerer, jeerer, mocker, carping blade.


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