Long. I muft rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a grey-hound.

Arm. The fweet War-man is dead and rotten;
Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the bury'd:
But I will forward with my device ;

Sweet Royalty, bestow on me the fenfe of hearing.
Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy fweet Grace's flipper.
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not, by the yard.

Arm. This Hector far furmounted Hannibal. Coft. The Party is gone, fellow Hector, fhe is gone ; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What mean't thou?

Coft. Faith, unless you play the honeft Trojan, the poor wench is caft away; fhe's quick, the child brags in her belly already. 'Tis yours.

Arm. Doft thou infamonize me Thou shalt die.

mong Potentates ?

Coft. Then fhall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him.

Dum. Moft rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey !

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd; more Ates, more Ates; stir them on, ftir them on.

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will fup a flea.

Arm. By the north-pole, I do challenge thee.

Coft. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man : I'll flash; I'll do't by the Sword: I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incenfed Worthies.

Coft. I'll do't in my shirt.

Dum. Most refolute Pompey!

Moth.

Moth. Mafter, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do ye not fee, Pompey is uncafing for the combat: what mean you? you will lofe your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and foldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it, Pompey, hath made the challenge.

Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Biron. What reason have you for't? Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no fhirt; I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linnen; fince when, I'll be fworn, he wore none but a difh-clout of Jaquenetta's, and that he wears next his heart for a Favour.

Enter Macard.

Mac. God fave you, Madam!

Prin. Welcome, Macard, but that thou interruptest our merriment.

Mac. I'm forry, Madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father Prin. Dead, for my life.

Mac. Even fo: my Tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the Scene begins to cloud. Arm. For my own part, I breathe free breath; I have feen the day of wrong through the little hole of difcretion, and I will right my felf like a foldier. [Exeunt Worthies.

King. How fares your Majefty? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to night. King. Madam, not fo; I do befeech you, stay. Prin. Prepare, I fay. I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-fad foul, that you vouchfafe In your rich wifdom to excufe, or hide, The liberal oppofition of our spirits; If over-boldly we have borne our felves In the converse of breath, your gentleness Was guilty of it. Farewel, worthy lord;

Aa

An heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: (38)
Excufe me fo, coming fo fhort of thanks,
For my great Suit fo eafily obtain❜d.

King. The extreme part of time extremely forms
All caufes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loofe, decides
That, which long Process could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of Progeny
Forbid the fmiling courtefie of love,

The holy fuit which fain it would convince;
Yet fince love's argument was firft on foot,
Let not the cloud of forrow juftle it

From what it purpos'd: Since, to wail friends loft,
Is not by much fo wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double.
Biron. Honeft plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the King.
For your fair fakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul Play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to th' oppofed end of our intents;
And what in us hath feem'd ridiculous,
As love is full of unbefitting ftrains,
All wanton as a child, skipping in vain,
Form'd by the eye, and therefore like the eye,
Full of ftraying fhapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in fubjects as the eye doth rowl,
To every varied object in his glance;
Which party-coated prefence of loofe love
Put on by us, if, in your heav'nly eyes,

(38) An heavy heart bears not an humble Tongue.] Thus all the Editions; but, furely, without either Senfe or Truth. None are more humble in Speech, than they who labour under any Oppreffion. The Princess is defiring, her Grief may apologize for her not expreffing her Obligations at large; and my Correction is conformable to that Sentiment. Befides, there is an Antithefis between heavy and nimble; but between heavy and humble, there is none,

Have misbecom❜d our oaths and gravities;
Those heav'nly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make them: therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewife yours. We to our felves prove false,
By being once falfe, for ever to be true
To thofe that make us both; fair ladies, you:
And even that falfhood, in it felf a fin,
Thus purifies it felf, and turns to Grace.

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
Your Favours, the embaffadors of love:
And in our maiden council rated them
At courtship, pleafant jeft, and courtefie;
As bumbaft, and as lining to the time :
But more devout, than these are our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, Madam, fhew'd much more than

jest.

Long. So did our looks.

Rof. We did not coat them fo.

King. Now at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time, methinks, too fhort,

To make a world-without-end bargain in ;
No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much,.
Full of dear guiltinefs; and therefore, this
If for my love (as there is no fuch cause)
You will do aught, this fhall you do for me;
Your oath I will not truft; but go
with speed
To fome forlorn and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There ftay, until the twelve celestial Signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this auftere infociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frofts, and fafts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy bloffoms of
your love,
But that it bear this tryal, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,

Come

Come challenge me; challenge me, by these deserts ;
And by this virgin palm, now kiffing thine,
I will be thine; and 'till that inftant shut
My woful felf up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation,

For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,

To flatter up thefe powers of mine with reft;
The fudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence, ever then, my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. (39) [And what to me, my love? and what to
me?

Rof. You must be purged too, your fins are rank,
You are attaint with fault and perjury;
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelve-month fhall you spend, and never reft,
But feek the weary beds of people fick.]

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Cath. A wife! - a beard, fair health and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, fhall I fay, I thank you, gentle wife?

(39) Biron. [And what to me, my Love ? and what to me?
Rof. You must be purged too: your Sins are rank:
You are attaint with Fault and Perjury.
Therefore if you my Favour mean to get,

A Twelvemonth shall you spend, and never reft,
But feek the weary Beds of People fick.]

Thefe fix Verfes both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concur to think should be expung'd; and therefore I have put them between Crotchets: Not that they were an Interpolation, but as the Author's first Draught, which he afterwards rejected; and executed the fame Thought a little lower with much more Spirit and Elegance. Shakespeare is not to answer for the prefent abfurd repetition, but his A&tor-Editors; who, thinking Rosalind's Speech too long in the second Plan, had abridg’d it to the Lines above quoted : but, in publishing the Play, ftupidly printed both the Original Speech of Shakespeare, and their own Abridgment of it.

Cath