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Spy'd a blossom paffing fair,
hand is sworn,
sworn for tbee :
Turning mortal for thy love.
Long. Dumain, thy love is far from charity,
[coming forward. You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not love Maria ? Longaville Did never sonnet for her fake compile ; Nor never lay'd his wreathed arms arhwart His loving bosom, to keep down his heart: I have been coʻely fhrowded in this buih, And markt you both, and for you both did blush. I'heard your guilty rhimes, observ'd
fashion ; Saw fighs reek from you, noted well your passion.
Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries ;
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
King, Too bitter is thy jest
Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd by you.
I am betray'd by keeping company
King. Soft, whither away so fan?
Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.
King. If it mar nothing neither,
Faq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read,
King. Biron, read it over. (He reads the letter. Where hadit thou it?
Jag. Of Coftard.
Biron. A coy, my Liege, a toy: your Grace needs
not fear it. Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's
hear it. Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.
[To Coftard, Guilty, my lord, guilty : I confess, I confess.
He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I
Biron. True, true; we are four :
King. Hence, Sirs, away.
[Exeunt Coft. and Jaquer. Biron. 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 few 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 (hew some love of
thine ? Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly
Àt the first opening of the gorgeous east)
Kiffes the base ground with obedient breast ? What peremptory eagle-fighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
O, but for my love, day would turn to night.
Do meet, as at a Fair, in her fair cheek; Where several worthies make one dignity ;
Where nothing wants, that want it self doth seek. Lend me the flourih of all gentle tongues ;
Fie, painted rhetorick! O, she needs it not: To things of fale a seller's praise belongs : She passes praise; the praise, too thort, doth blot. A wither'd hermit, fivescore 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 ;
King. Fy heav'n, thy love is black as ebony.
d wife of such wood were felicity.
That I may swear, Beauty doth beauty lack, If that she 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 scowl of night; (25) And beauty's creft becomes the heavens well. Biron. Devils fooneft tempt, resembling spirits of
light: O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt,
It mourns, that Painting and usurping Hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect :
And therefore is the born to make black fair. Her Favour turns the fashion of the days,
For native blood is counted painting now;
Paints it self black to imitate her brow.
(24. Is Ebony like ber? 0 Word divine!) This is the Reade ing of all the Editions that I have seen : but both Dr. Tbirlby and Mr. Warburton concurr'd in reading, (as I had likewife conjectur’d) O Wood divine !
(25) black is the badge.of Hell; The bue of dungeons, and ibe School of Nigbt.] Black, being the Scbool of Night, is a piece of Mystery above my Compre. hension. I had guess’d, it should be, abe Stole of Nigbr : but I have preferr'd the Conjecture of my Friend Mr. Warburtos, as it comes nearer in Pronunciation to the corrupted Reading, as well as agrees better with the other Images.