Imatges de pàgina
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Regent of love-rhimes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed Sovereign of fighs and groans:
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents:
Dread Prince of plackets, King of codpieces:
Sole Imperator, and great General

*

Of trotting paritors: (O my little heart!)
And I to be a corporal of his File 3,

And wear his colours! like a tumbler's hoop!
What? what? I love! I fue! I feek a wife!
A Woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd, that it may ftill go right:
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all:
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,

With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and by heav'n, one that will do the deed,
Tho' Argus were her eunuch and her guard;

genious conjecture on this paf-
fage. He reads, This Signior Ju-
lio's Giant-dwarf. Shakespeare,
fays he, intended to compliment
Julio Romano, who drew Cupid
in the character of a Giant-dwarf.
Dr. Warburton thinks, that by
Junio is meant youth in general.
* An apparitor, or paritor, is
the officer of the bishop's court
who carries out citations: as ci-
tations are most frequently iffued
for fornication, the paritor is put
under Cupid's government.

3 In former Editions,
And I to be a Corporal of his
Field,

Thofe were not carried in Parade about with them, as the Fencer carries his Sword: Nor, if they were, is the Similitude at all pertinent to the Cafe in hand. I read, like a tumbler ftoop. To floof like a Tumbler agrees not only with that Profeffion, and the fervile Condefcenfions of a Lover, but with what follows in the Context. The wife Tranfcribers, when once the Tumbler appear'd, thought his Hoop must not be far behind. WARBURTON.

The conceit feems to be very forced and remote, however it

And wear his Colours like a be understood. The notion is

Tumbler's hoop!

A Corporal of a Field is quite a new Term: neither did the Tumblers ever adorn their Hoops with Ribbands, that I can learn for

not that the boop wears colours, but that the colours are worn as a tumbler carries his boop, hanging on one shoulder and falling under the oppofite arm.

And I to figh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! go to !It is a plague,
That Cupid will impofe for my neglect
Of his almighty, dreadful, little, Might.
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue and groan :
Some men must love my lady, and fome Joan. [Exit *.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace.

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords, Attendants, and a Forefter.

PRINCESS.

AS that the King, that fpurr'd his horse so

WAS hard

Against the steep uprifing of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he fhew'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we fhall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

-Then Forester, my friend, where is the bufh,
That we must ftand and play the murderer in?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A ftand, where you may make the fairest fhoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that fhoot :
And thereupon thou speak'ft the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam: for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what? firft praise me, then again fay,
no?

O fhort-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo!

For. Yes, madam, fair.

To this line Mr. Theobald obferved, without fufficient auextends his fecond act, not injudiciously, but, as was before

thority.

Prin. Nay, never paint me now;

Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
* Here-good my glass-take this for telling true;
[Giving him money.

Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that, which you inherit.
Prin. See, fee, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefy in fair, fit for thefe days!

A giving hand, though foul, fhall have fair praife.
But come, the bow; now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I fave my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to fhew my Skill;
That more for praife, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of queftion, fo it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted crimes;

When for fame's fake, for praise, an outward part 5
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now feek to spill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that felf-fovereignty

Only for praile-fake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their Lords?

4 Here-good my glass-] To understand how the princefs has her glafs fo ready at hand in a cafual converfation, it must be remembered that in thofe days it was the fashion among the French ladies to wear a looking glafs, as Mr. Bayle coarfely reprefents it, on their bellies; that is, to have a Imall mirrour fet in gold hanging at the girdle, by which they occafionally viewed their faces, or adjusted their hair.

When for fame's fake, for
praife, an outward part,

We bend to that the working of

the heart.] The harmony of the measure, the eafinefs of the expreffion, and the good fenfe in the thought, all concur to recommend these two lines to the reader's notice. WARB.

6 THAT my heart means no ill] We should read, THO' my heartWARE.

That my heart means no ill, is the fame with to whom my heart means no ill: the common phrafe fuppreffes the particle, as I mean him [not to him] no harm. Prin,

L3

Prin. Only for praife; and praise we may afford To any lady, that fubdues her lord.

Enter Coftard.

Prin. Here comes a member of the commonwealth 7.

Coft. Good dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the reft that have no heads.

Coft. Which is the greateft lady, the highest ?
Prin. The thickest and the tallest,

Coft. The thickest and the tallest? it is fo, truth is truth.

An' your wafte, mistress, were as flender as my wit, One o' these maids girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will?

7 A member of the commonwealth.] Here, I believe, is a kind of jeft intended; a member of the common-wealth is put for one of the common people, one of the meaneft.

8 An' YOUR waste, mistress, were as flender as MY wit, One o' thefe maids girdles for YOUR wafte fhould be fit.] And was not one of her maids girdles fit for her? It is plain that my and have all the way changed places, by fome accident or other; and that the lines fhould be read thus,

your

An' my wafte, mistress, was
as flender as YOUR wit,
One of thefe maids girdles for
MY waste should be fit.

The lines are humourous enough, both as reflecting on his own grofs shape, and her flender wit.

WARBURTON.

This conjecture is ingenious enough, but not well confidered. It is plain that the Ladies girdles would not fit the princefs. For when she has referred the clown to the thickest and the talles, he turns immediately to her with the blunt apology, truth is truth; and again tells her, you are the thickeft bere. If any alteration is to be made, I fhould propose,

An' your waist, mistress, were

as flender as your wit. This would point the reply; but perhaps he mentions the flenderness of his own wit to excuse his bluntnefs.

Coft.

Coft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron, to one lady Refaline.

Prin. Othy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend

of mine.

Stand afide, good bearer.

Break up this capon9.

Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

-Boyet, you can carve;

This letter is miftook, it importeth none here;

It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I fwear.

Break the neck of the wax', and every one give car,

B2

Boyet reads.

Y heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, bave commiferation on thy heroical vaffal. The magnanimous and most illuftrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and be it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O bafe and obfcure vulgar!) videlicet, be came, faw, and overcame; be came, one; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King. Who came? the King. Why did he

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9 Boyet, you can carve: Break up this Capon.] i. e. open this Letter.

Our poet ufes this metaphor, as the French do their Poulet; which fignifies both a young Fowl, and a Love-letter. Pou let, amatoriæ Litteræ, fays Richelet: and quotes from Voiture, Repondre au plus obligeant Poulet du Monde; To reply to the most obliging Letter in the World. The Italians ufe the fame manner of Expreffion, when they call a Love-Epiftle, una Policeita amorofe. I owed the Hint of this

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