Biron, This jeft is dry to me. Fair, gentle, fweet, Your wit makes wife things foolish; when we greet With eyes best feeing heaven's fiery eye,

By light we lose light; your capacity

Is of that nature, as to your huge ftore

Wife things feem foolish, and rich things but poor. Rof. This proves you wife and rich; for in my

eye

Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Rof. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to fnatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I poffefs.
Rof. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you lefs.

Rof. Which of the vizors was it, that you wore? Biron. Where? when? what vizor? why demand you this?

Rof. There, then, that vizor, that fuperfluous Cafe, That hid the worse, and fhew'd the better face.

King. We are defcried; they'll mock us now downright,

Dum. Let us confefs, and turn it to a jeft.

Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your Highness fad?

Rof. Help, hold his brows, he'll fwoon: why look you pale?

Sea-fick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the ftars down plagues for Perjury.

Can any face of brafs hold longer out?

Here stand I, lady, dart thy fkill at me;

Bruise me with fcorn, confound me with a flout;

Thruft thy fharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;

And I will with thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Ruffian habit wait.

This is a very lofty and elegant compliment.

One

Q! never will I truft to fpeeches penn'd,

Nor to the motion of a fchool-boy's tongue; Nor never come in vizor to my friend,

Nor woo in rhime, like a blind harper's fong. Taffata-phrafes, filken terms precife,

Three-pil'd hyperboles, fpruce affectation, Figures pedantical, thefe fummer-flies,

Have blown me full of maggot aftentation: I do forfwear them; and I here proteft,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God
knows!)

Henceforth my wooing mind fhall be exprest
In ruffet yeas, and honeft kerfy noes:
And to begin, wench, (fo God help me, law!)
My love to thee is found, fans crack or flaw.
Rof. Sans, fans, I pray you.

Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage: bear with me, I am fick.
I'll leave it by degrees: foft, let us fee;
Write', Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;
Thefe lords are vifited, you are not free;

For the lord's tokens on you both I fee.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave thefe tokens

to us.

Biron. Our states are forfeit, feek not to undo us. Rof. It is not fo; for how can this be true, That you ftand forfeit, being thofe that fue? Biron. Peace, for I will not have to do with you.

Write, &c.] This was the infcription put upon the door of the houses infected with the plague, to which Biron compares the love of himself and his companions; and pursuing the metaphor finds the tokens likewife on the ladies. The tokens of the

Rof.

plague are the firft fpots or difcolorations by which the infection is known to be received.

2

how can this be true, That you should forfeit, being

thofe that fue.] That is, how can those be liable to forfeiture that begin the procefs. The

Ref. Nor fhall not, if I do as I intend.

Biron. Speak for yourfelves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, sweet Madam, for our rude tranfgreffion

Some fair excufe.

Prin. The faireft is confeffion.

Were you not here, but even now, difguis'd?
King. Madam, I was.

Prin. And were you well advis'd?
King. I was, fair Madam.

Prin. When you then were here,

What did you whifper in your lady's ear?

King. That more than all the world I did refpect

her.

Prin. When the fhall challenge this, you will reject her.

King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin. Peace, peece, forbear:

Your oath once broke, you force not to forfwear 3. King. Defpife me, when I break this oath of mine. Prin. I will, and therefore keep it. Rofaline, What did the Ruffian whisper in your ear?

Rof. Madam, he fwore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-fight; and did value me Above this world; adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me, or elfe die my lover. Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honourably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady fuch an oath.

Rof. By heav'n, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this; but take it, Sir, again.

jeft lies in the ambiguity of fue, which fignifies to profecute by law, or to offer a petition.

3 You force not to forfwear.] You force not is the fame with

you make no difficulty. This is a very juft obfervation. The crime which has been once committed, is committed again with less reluctance.

King. My faith, and this, to th' Princess I did give ; I knew her by this jewel on her fleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she wear:
And lord Biron, I thank him, is my Dear.
What? will you have me? or your pearl again?
Biron. Neither of either: I remit both twain.
I fee the trick on't; here was a confent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dafh it, like a Christmas comedy.

Some carry-tale, fome pleafe-man, fome flight zany,
Some mumble-news, fome trencher-knight, fome
Dick,

That fimiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when the's difpos'd,
Told our intents before; which once difclos'd,
The ladies did change Favours, and then we,
Following the figns, woo'd but the fign of the:
Now to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forfworn; in will, and error ".
Much upon this it is.And might not You

[To Boyet.

Foreftal our fport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by th' fquier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye,
And ftand between her back, Sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jefting merrily?

Smiles his cheek in
years, ] Mr. Theobald'
fays, he cannot, for his heart,
comprehend the fenfe of this phrafe.
It was not his heart but his head
that flood in his way.
fignifies, into wrinkles.
The Merchant of Venice,

In years,
So in

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

See the note on that line.-
But the Oxford editor was in the
fame cafe, and so alters it to freers.
WARBURTON.

5--In will and error.
Much upon this it is-And might
not You.] I believe this paf-
fage should be read thus,

in vill and error. Boyet. Much upon this it is. Biron. And might not you, &c.

You

You put our Page out: go, you are allowed";
Die when you will, a fmock fhall be your fhrowd.
You leer upon me, do you; there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden fword.

Boyet. Full merrily

Hath this brave Manage, this Career, been run.
Biron. Lo, he is tilting ftrait. Peace, I have done.

Enter Coftard.

Welcome, pure wit, thou parteft a fair fray.
Coft. O Lord, Sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies fhall come in, or no.
Biron. What are there but three?
Coft. No, Sir, but it is very fine;
For every one purfents three.

Biron. And three times three is nine?

Coft. Not fo, Sir, under correction. Sir; I hope, it is not fo.

You cannot beg us', Sir; I can affure you, Sir, we know

What we know: I hope, three times three, Sir-
Biron. Is not nine.

Coft. Under correction, Sir, we know where until it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Coft. O Lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, Sir,

Biron. How much is it?

Caft. O Lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will fhew where until it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as they fay, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, Sir.

go, you are allow'd ;] ¿. e. you may say what you will ; you are a licensed fool, a common jefter. So Twelfth Night. There is no flander in an allow'd fool. WARBURTON.

7 You cannot beg us.] That is, we are not fools, our next relations cannot beg the wardship of our perfons and fortunes. One of the legal tefts of a natural is to try whether he can number.