The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

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concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have forgive thy duty: adieu.

Holofernes.

Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses: did they please you, sir Nathaniel? Nathaniel. Marvellous well for the pen. Holofernes.

I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine; where if before repast it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society.

Biron.

The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a pitch-pitch that defiles. Defile? a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said, and so say 1, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajas: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep. Well proved again o' my side! I will not love; if I do, hang me: i'faith, I will not. O! but her eye,-by this light, but for her eye, I would not love her! yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper: God give him grace to groan!

[Gets up into a tree.

Enter the King, with a paper.
King.

Ay me!

Biron. [Aside Shot, by heaven! - Proceed, sweet Cupid:

thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets!

[Reads.

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose.

smote

[flows: The night of dew that on my cheeks down Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me,

And they thy glory through my grief will show: But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel! No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. How shall she know my griess? I'll drop the

Biron.

Aside. Why, he comes in like a perjurer, wearing papers. King. [Aside. In love, I hope. Sweet fellowship in shame. [Aside. Biron.

One drunkard loves another of the name.
Longaville.

Am I the first that have been perjur'd so?

Biron. [Aside. I could put thee in comfort: not by two that 1 know. [society, Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of The shape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.

Longaville.

I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move.

O sweet Maria, empress of my love!
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

Biron. [Aside. O! rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's Disfigure not his slop. [hose:

Longaville.
This same shall go. -
[He reads the sonnet.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vous for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee :
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace, being gain'd, cures alldisgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is :
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost
Ezhal'st this vapour-vow; in thee it is: [shine,
If broken, then, it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath, to win a paradise?

Enter Dumaine, with a paper.
Longaville.

By whom shall I send this? - Company! stay.
[Steps aside.
[Aside.

Biron.

All hid, all hid; an old infant play.
Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye.

More sacks to the mill ! O heavens ! I have my

Dumaine transform'd? four woodcocks in a dish!

Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
O, would the King, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! III, to example ill,
For none offend, where all alike do dote.
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;

Longaville. [Advancing.

Dumaine, thy love is far from charity,
That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,

[Aside. To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

wish:

By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!

King.

[Advancing.

Come, sir, you blush; as his your case is such;
You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your
[fashion,
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your

blush.

passion:

eyes:

Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries; [Aside. One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To Longarile. And Jove for your love would infringe an oath. [To Dumaine.

As fair as day.

Biton.

[Aside.

Ay, as some days: but then no sun must shine.

Dantaine.

O, that I had my wish!

On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack! my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee;

What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it!
For all the wealth that ever I did see,

I would not have him know so much by me.

And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain ?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:
A caudle, ho I

King.
Too bitter er is is thy jest.
Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view?

To break the vow I am engaged in;
I am betray'd, by keeping company
With men, like men of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?-

King.

Soft! Whither away so fast?

A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?

Biron.

I post from love; good lover, let me go.
Euter Jaquenetta and Costard

Jaquenetta.

God bless the king !

King.

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 show his face;
Young blood doth not obey an old decree:
We cannot cross the cause why we were born;
Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn.

King.
What, did these rent lines show some love of
thine?
Biron.

Did they? quoth you. Who sees the heavenly
Rosaline,

What present hast thou there? That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,

A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace needs not
fear it?
Longaville.

At the first opening of the gorgeous east, Bows not his vassal head; and, stricken blind,

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?

What peremptory, eagle-sighted 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, her mistress, is a gracious moon,
She, an attending star, 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 cull'd sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want itself doth
seek.

Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, -
Fie, painted rhetoric! O! she needs it not:
To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;
She passes praise; then praise too short doth
blot.

A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,
Might shake 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 sun, that maketh all things shine!

King

By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.

Biran

It did move him to passion, and therefore Is ebony like her? O wood divine!

let's hear it.

Dumalne.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: With a Glossary