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He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I
Are pick-purfes in love, and we deserve to die.
O, difmifs this Audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron. True, true; we are four :
Will these turtles be gone?

King. Hence, Sirs, away.

Coft. Walk afide the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
[Exeunt Coftard and Jaquenetta.
Biron Sweet lords, fweet lovers, O, let us embrace:
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be.

The fea will ebb and flow, heaven will fhew his face:
Young blood doth not obey an old decree.
We cannot cross the cause why we were born:
Therefore of all hands muft we be forfworn.

King. What, did these rent lines fhew fome love of thine?
Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who fees the heavenly
Rofaline,

That (like a rude and favage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east) Bows not his vaffal head, and, ftrucken blind, Kiffes the base ground with obedient breaft?

What peremptory eagle-fighted eye

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,

That is not blinded by her Majefty?

King. What zeal, what fury, hath inspir'd thee now ? My love (her mistress) is a gracious moon;

She (an attending ftar) fcarce feen a light.
Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron.
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 feveral worthies make one dignity;

Where nothing wants, that want itself doth feek.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues;
Fy, painted rhetorick! O, the needs it not:

To things of fale a feller's praise belongs:
She paffes praife, the praife, too fhort, doth blot.

:

A wither'd hermit, fivefcore winters worn,
Might fhake 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 fun that maketh all things fhine.
King. By heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.
Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! (24)
A wife of fuch wood were felicity.

O, who can give an oath? where is a book,

That I may fwear, Beauty doth beauty lack, If that he learn not of her eye to look?

No face is fair, that is not full fo black? King. O paradox, black is the badge of hell:

The hue of dungeons, and the fcowl of night; (25).

And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well.

Biron. Devils fooneft tempt, refembling fpirits of light: O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt,

It mourns, that painting and ufurping hair Should ravifh doters with a falfe afpect:

And therefore is the 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 difpraise, Paints itself black to imitatę her brow.

Dum. To look like her, are chimney-fweepers black. Long. And fince her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their fweet complexion crack.

(24) Is Ebony like ber? 0 Word divine!] This is the Reading of all the Editions that I have feen: but both Dr. Thirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewise conjectur'd,) O Wood divine!

black is the badge of Hell;

(25) The bue of Dungeons, and the School of Night.] Black, being the School of Night, is a Piece of Myftery above my Comprehenfion. I had guefs'd, it fhould be, the Stole of Night: but I have preferr'd the Conjecture of my Friend Mr. Warburton, as it comes nearer in Pronunciation to the corrupted Reading, as well as agroes better with the other Images.

Dum

Dum. Dark needs no candles, now, for dark is light. Biron. Your miftreffes dare never come in rain,

For fear their colours fhould be wash'd away.
King. 'Twere good, yours did: for, Sir, to tell you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wafh'd to-day :

Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here.
King. No devil will fright thee then fo much as the.
Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff fo dear.
Long, Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face fee.
Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for fuch tread.
Dum. O vile! then as fhe goes, what upward lies
The ftreet fhould fee as fhe walkt over head.
King. But what of this, are we not all in love?
Biron. Nothing fo fure, and thereby all forfworn.
King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.

Dum. Ay, marry, there; fome flattery for this evil.
Long. O, fome authority how to proceed;

Some tricks, fome quillets, how to cheat the devil.
Dum. Some falve for perjury.

Biron. O, 'tis more than need.

Have at you then, Affection's men at arms;
Confider, what you firft did fwear unto:
To faft, to ftudy, and to fee no woman;
Flat treafon 'gainft the kingly ftate of youth.
Say, can you faft? your ftomachs are too young:
And abftinence ingenders maladies.

And where that you have vow'd to ftudy, (Lords)
In that each of you hath forfworn his book.
Can you ftill dream, and pore, and thereon look?
For when would you, my Lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of Study's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From womens eyes this doctrine I derive;
They are the ground, the book, the academies,
From whence doth fpring the true Promethean fire:
Why, univerfal plodding prisons up

K 4

The

The nimble fpirits in the arteries;
As motion and long-during action tires
The finewy vigour of the traveller.
Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forfworn the use of eyes;
And study too, the caufer of your vow.
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches fuch beauty as a woman's eye?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewife is.
Then, when ourselves we fee in ladies' eyes,
Do we not likewife fee our learning there?
O, we have made a vow to ftudy, lords;
And in that vow we have forfworn our books:
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation have found out
Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes
Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other flow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practifers,
Scarce fhew a harveft of their heavy toil.
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain :
But with the motion of all elements,
Courfes as fwift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious feeing to the eye:
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind!
A lover's ear will hear the lowest found,
When the fufpicious head of thrift is stopt. (26)

(26) A Lover's Ear will bear the lowest Sound,

When the fufpicious Head of Theft is flopp'd.]

Love's

I have ventured to fubftitute a Word here, against the Authority of all the printed Copies. There is no Contraft of Terms,, betwixt a Lover and a Thief: but betwixt a Lover and a Man of Thrift there is a remarkable Antithefis. Nor is it true in Fact, I believe, that a

Love's Feeling is more foft and fenfible,

Than are the tender horns of cockled fnails.

Love's Tongue proves dainty Bacchus grofs in tafte:
For favour, is not Love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hefperides? (27)
Subtle as Sphinx; as fweet and mufical

As bright Apollo's lute, ftrung with his hair:

And when Love speaks the voice of all the Gods, (28)

Thief, harden'd to the Profeffion, is always fufpicious of being apprehended; but he may fleep as found as an honefter Man. But, according to the Ideas we have of a Mifer, a Man who makes Lucre and Pelf his fole Object and Purfuit, his fleeps are broken and disturb'd with perpetual Apprehenfions of being robbed of his darling Trea➡ fure: confequently, his Ear is upon the attentive Bent, even when he fleeps beft.

(27) For Valour is not Love a Hercules,

Still climbing Trees in the Hefperides?]

I have here again ventur'd to trangrefs against the printed Books. The Poet is here observing how all the Senfes are refined by Love. But what has the poor Senfe of Smelling done, not to keep its Place among its Brethren? Then Hercules's Valour was not in climbing the Trees, but in attacking the Dragon gardant. I rather think, the Poet meant that Hercules was allured by the Odour and Fragrancy of the golden Apples.

(28) And when Love fpeaks, the Voice of all the Gods, Make Heaven drewly with the Harmony.]

As this is writ and pointed in all the Copies, there is neither Senfe, nor Concord; as will be obvious to every understanding Reader. The fine and eafy Emendation, which I have inferted in the Text, I Owe to my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton. His comment on Heaven being drowsy with the Harmony is no lefs ingenious; and therefore, I'll fubjoin it in his own Words. "Mufick, we muft "obferve, in our Author's time had a very different Ufe to what

it has now. At prefent, it is only employed to raife and inflame "the Paffions; then, to calm and allay all kind of Perturbations. "And agreeable to this Obfervation, throughout all Shakespeare's "Plays, where Mufick is either actually used, or its Power de"fcribed, 'tis always faid to be for thefe Ends.

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