King. So fweet a kiss the golden fun gives not Through the transparent bofom of the deep, And they thy glory through my grief will show; Enter Longaville. [reading. [the king feps afide. What! Longaville! and reading! liften, ears! Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. Long. Am I the first that have been perjur'd fo? Biron. I could put thee in comfort: not by two, that I know; Thou mak'ft the triumviry, the three-corner-cap of fociety, The shape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up fimplicity. Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to move: O fweet Maria, emprefs of my love! Thefe numbers will I tear, and write in profe. Biron. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose: Disfigure not his flop. Long. This fame fhall go. [be reads the fonnet. Q 2 Did Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment: Thou being a goddess, I forfwore not thee. Thy grace, being gain'd, cures all difgrace in me. Then thou fair fun, which on my earth doft shine, If broken then, it is no fault of mine; If by me broke, what fool is not fo wife Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity : A green goofe, a goddefs: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, god amend us! we are much out o'th' way. Enter Dumain. Long. By whom shall I send this? (company!) ftay. Like a demi-god, here fit I in the sky; More facks to the mill? O heav'ns, I have my wifh, And wretched fools' fecrets heedfully o'er-eye. Dumain is transform'd; four woodcocks in a dish. Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [afide. Dum. Thou heav'n! the wonder of a mortal eye! [afide. [afide. Biron. Stoop I fay; Her fhoulder is with child. Dum. As fair as day. [afide. Dum. O, that I had my wish! Long. And I had mine ĺ King. And mine too, good lord! Biron. Ay, as fome days; but then no fun must shine. [afide. [afide. [afide. Biron. Amen, fo I had mine. Is not that a good word? [afide. 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 incifion Would let her out in faucers; fweet mifprifion! [afide. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. [afide. On a day, alack the day! Dumain reads his fonnet. Love, whofe month is ever may, Through the velvet leaves, the wind, But, alack, my hand is fworn, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: Vow, alack, for youth unmeet! Youth fo apt to pluck a fweet. Do not call it fin in me, That I am forfworn for thee: Thou, for whom ev'n Jove would swear, Juno but an Ethiope were, And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. This will I send, and fomething else more plain, O, would O, would the King, Biron, and Longaville, Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note: Long. Dumain, thy love is far from charity, [coming forward. You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, King. Come, fir, you blush? as his, your case is such; [coming forward. You chide at him, offending twice as much. [coming forward. You'll You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis an hateful thing; O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, O me, with what strict patience have I fat, Where lies thy grief? o, tell me, good Dumain; And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? King. Too bitter is thy jeft. Are we betray'd thus to thy overview ? Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you. I, that am honeft, I, that hold it fin To break the vow I am engaged in, I am betray'd by keeping company King. Soft! whither away fo fast? Biron. I poft from love; good lover, let me go. Enter |