Imatges de pàgina
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He, he, and you ; and you, my liege, and I
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
0, dismiss 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 aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.

Exeunt Coftard and Jaquenetta. Bironi 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 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 forsworn.

King. What, did these rent lines shew some love of thine?
Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly

Rosaline,
That (like a rude and favage man of Inde,

At the first opening of the gorgeous east)
Bows not his vassal head, and, itrucken blind,

Kisses the base ground with obedient brealt? What peremptory eagle-lighted 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 fher mistress) is a gracious moon; She (an attending ítar) scarce seen 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 culld Sovereignty

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity;

Where nothing wants, that want itself doch seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues ;

Fy, painted rhetorick! O, she needs it not: To things of sale a feller's praise belongs :

She passes praise, the praise, too short, doth blot.

A wither'd hermit, fivescore winters worn,

Might fhake off fifty, looking in her eye : Beauty doch varnish Age, as if new-born,

And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy;
O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things thine.

King. By heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.
Biron. Is ebony like her? wood divine ! (24)

A wife of fuch wood were felicity.
0, who can give an oath? where is a book,

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

No face is fair, that is not full so black? King. Oparadox, black is the badge of hell ;

The bue of dungeons, and the fowl of night; (25). And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.

Biron. Devils sooneft tempt, resembling spirits of light: O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt,

It mourns, that painting and ufurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect :

And therefore is she born to make black fais. 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-fweepers black. Long. And since her time, are colliers counted bright. King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.

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

(25) black is the badge of Hell; The hue of Dungeons, and the School of Nigbr.] Black, being the Scbool of Night, is a Piece of Mystery above my Comprehension. I had guess’d, it thould be, the Stole of Nigbt : 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 agrøes better with the other Imagesa

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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.

King. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear, Long, Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face' see. 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 fee as the walk: over head. King. But what of this, are we not all in love?

Biron. Nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn. King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove

Our loving lawful, and our faith not corn.
Dum. Ay, marry, there ; -some fattery for this evil.

Long. O, fome authority how to proceed;
Some tricks, fome quillets, how to cheat the devil.

Dum. Some salve for perjury,

Biron, O, 'tis more than need.
Have at you then, Affection's men at arms;
Consider, what

you

first did fwear unto :
To fast, to study, and to see no woman ;
Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you fast? your itomachs are too young :
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
And where that you have vow'd to study, (Lords)
In that each of you hath forsworn his book.
Can you still 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 spring the true Promethean fire:
Why, universal plodding prisons up
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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 fortworn the use of eyes ;
And study too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any author in the world,
Teachęs such beauty as a woman's eye ?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewise is.
Then, when ourselves we fee in ladies' eyes,
Do we not likewise see our learning there is
O, we have made a vow to study, lords ;
And in that vow we have forsworn 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 Now arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren praktisers,
Scarce shew a harvest 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,
Courses as swift as thought in every power ;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye:
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind!
A lover's ear will hear the lowest found,
When the suspicious head of thrift is stopt. (26)

Love's

(26) A Lover's Ear will hear the lower Sound,

When tbe Suspicious Head of Theft is ftoppid.] I have ventured to substitute a Word here, against the Authority of all the printed Copies. There is no Contrast of Terms, betwixt a Lover and a Thief: but betwixt a Lover and a Man of Thrift there is a remarkable Antirbelis. Nor is it true in fact, I believe, that a

Love's Feeling is more foft and sensible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails.
Love's Tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in tastes
For favour, is not Love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? (27)
Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical
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 feep as found as an honefter Man. But, accorda ing to the Ideas we have of a Miser, a Man who makes Lucre and Pelf his sole Object and Pursuit, his sleeps are broken and disturbid with perpetual Apprehenfions of being robbed of his darling Treasure : consequently, his Ear is upon the attentive Bent, even when be sleeps best.

(27) For Valour is not Love a Hercules,

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

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

Make Heaven drowsy with the Harmony.] As this is writ and pointed in all the Copies, there is neither Sense, nor Concord; as will be obvious to every understanding Reader. The fine and easy Emendation, which I have inserted in the Text, I

to my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton. His comment on Heaven being drowsy with the Harmony is no less ingeniows; and therefore, I'll subjoin it in his own Words. " Mufack, we must “ obferve, in our Author's time had a very different Use to what « it has now.

At present, it is only employed to raise and inflame “ the Pafiors; then, to calm and allay all kind of Perturbations. “ And agreeable to this Observation, throughout all Sbakespeare's " Plays, where Mufick is either actually used, or its Power de“ scribed, 'tis always said to be for these Ends.

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