King. What present hast thou there? What makes treason here? If it mar nothing neither, Cost. Some certain treason. Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. Biron, read it over. Where hadst thou it? Jaq. Of Costard. King. Where hadst thou it ? [Giving him the letter. 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 CoSTARD.] 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. Biron. Will these turtles be gone? King. True, true; we are four ; Hence, sirs: away. Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA. Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us embrace! As true we are, as flesh and blood can be: The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face : Young blood will not† obey an old decree: We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty? King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon: She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birón; O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity; Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek, Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fye, painted rhetorick! O, she needs it not: To things of sale a seller's praise belongs; She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. O, 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine! A wife of such wood were felicity. O, who can give an oath? where is a book? No face is fair, that is not full so black. King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night; And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well'. Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt, It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair‘, Should ravish doters with a false aspéct ; And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favour turns the fashion of the days; For native blood is counted painting now; And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. Dum. To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black. Long. And, since her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colours should be wash'd away. King. 'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-day here. 3 And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.] i. e. the very top, the height of beauty, or the utmost degree of fairness, becomes the heavens. VOL. II. and usurping hair,] i. e. false hair. Ee Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread! Dum. O vile! then as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walk'd over head. King. But what of this? Are we not all in love? Biron. O, nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn. King. Then leave this chat; and, good Birón, now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. Dum. Ay, marry, there;-some flattery for this evil. Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. Biron. And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. The nimble spirits in the arteries'; As motion, and long-during action, tires 5 some quillets,] Quillet is the peculiar word applied to law-chicane. 6 affection's men at arms :] ì. e. ye soldiers of affection. 7 The nimble spirits in the arteries ;] In the old system of physic, they gave the same office to the arteries as is now given to the nerves. The sinewy vigour of the traveller. And where we are, our learning likewise is. Mr. Malone has followed this line by a hemistich "with ourselves"-for which it would be difficult to find a meaning. 8 Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ;] As we say, keep the house, or keep their bed. M. MASON. 9 the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd ;] i. e. a lover in pursuit of his mistress has his sense of hearing quicker than a thief (who suspects every sound he hears) in pursuit of his prey. Or, the suspicious head of theft may mean the head suspicious of theft. |