And I to figh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! go to! It is a plague,
That Cupid will impofe for my neglect

Of his almighty, dreadful, little, Might.
Well, I will love, write, figh, pray, fue and groan:
Some men must love my lady, and fome Joan. [Exit *.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace.

Enter the Princefs, Rofaline, Maria, Catharine, Lords, Attendants, and a Forefter.

PRINCESS....

AS that the King, that fpurr'd his horfe fo

WAS hard

Against the steep uprifing of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Who e'er he was, he shew'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we fhall have our difpatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.

-Then Forefter, my friend, where is the bush,
That we muft ftand and play the murderer in?

For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; A ftand, where you may make the fairest shoot. Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair, that shoot: And thereupon thou fpeak'ft the fairest shoot.

For. Pardon me, madam: for I meant not fo.
Prin. What, what? firft praife me, then again fay,
no?

O fhort-liv'd pride! not fair? alack, for wo!

For. Yes, madam, fair.

To this line Mr. Theobald extends his fecond act, not injudiciously, but, as was before ob

ferved, without fufficient authority.

4

Prin. Nay, pever paint me now;

Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
* Here-good my glafs-take this for telling true;
[Giving him money.
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For. Nothing but fair is that, which you inherit.
Prin. See, fee, my beauty will be fav'd by merit.
O herefy in fair, fit for thefe days!

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praife.
But come, the bow; now mercy goes to kill,
And fhooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I fave my credit in the shoot,
Not wounding, Pity would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to fhew my Skill;
That more for praife, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is fometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detefted crimes;

When for fame's fake, for praife, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart.
As I for praise alone now feek to fpill

The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill". Boyet. Do not curft wives hold that felf-fovereignty

Only for praife-fake, when they ftrive to be
Lords o'er their Lords?

4 Here-good my glass-] To understand how the princess has her glafs fo ready at hand in a cafual converfation, it must be remembered that in those days it was the fashion among the French ladies to wear a looking glass, as Mr. Bayle coarfely reprefents it, on their bellies; that is, to have a fmall mirrour fet in gold hanging at the girdle, by which they occafionally viewed their faces, or adjufted their hair.

When for fame's fake, for praife, an outward part,

We bend to that the working of

the beart.] The harmony of the meafure, the eafinefs of the expreffion, and the good fenfe in the thought, all concur to recommend these two lines to the reader's notice.

6

WARB. THAT my heart means no ill] We fhould read, THO' my heartWARB. That my heart means no ill, is the fame with to whom my heart means no ill: the common phrase fuppreffes the particle, as I mean him [not to him] no harm. Prin.

L3

Prin. Only for praife; and praise we may afford To any lady, that fubdues her lord,

Enter Coftard.

Prin. Here comes a member of the common. wealth.

Coft. Good dig-you-den all; pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the reft that have no heads.

Coft. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ?

Prin. The thickeft and the tallest.

Caft. The thickest and the tallest? it is fo, truth is truth.

An' your waste, mistress, were as flender as my wit, One o' thefe maids girdles for your wafte fhould be fit. Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

Prin. What's your will, Sir? what's your will?

This conjecture is ingenious enough, but not well confidered. It is plain that the Ladies girdles would not fit the princefs. For when he has referred the clown to the thickeft and the tallest, he turns immediately to her with the blunt apology, truth is truth; and again tells her, you are the thickest here If any alteration is to be made, I should propofe,

An' 'your waift, mistress, were

as fiender as your vit. This would point the reply; but perhaps he mentions the flendernefs of his own wit to excufe his bluntnefs.

Coft.

Caft. I have a letter from Monfieur Biron, to one lady Rofaline.

Prin. O thy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.

Stand afide, good bearer,- Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon?.
Boyet. I am bound to ferve.

This letter is miftook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Prin. We will read it, I fwear.

Break the neck of the wax', and every one give ear.

Boyet reads.

r heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth it self, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiferation on thy heroical vaffal. The magnanimous and moft illuftrate King Cophetua fet eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and be it was that might rightly fay, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O bafe and obfcure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, faw, and overcame; he came, one; faw, two; overcame, three. Who came? the King,

9 Boyet, you can carve: Break up this Capon.] i. e. open this Letter.

Our poet ufes this metaphor, as the French do their Poulet; which fignifies both a young Fowl, and a Love-letter. Poulet, amatoria Litteræ, fays Richelet: and quotes from Voiture, Repondre au plus obligeant Poulet du Monde; To reply to the most obliging Letter in the World. The Italians use the fame manner of Expreffion, when they call a Love-Epistle, una Pollicetta amo

L

Why did be

come? to fee. Why did he fee? to overcome. To whom came he? to the beggar. What faw he? the beggar. Whom overcame be? the beggar. The conclufion is victory; on whofe fide? the King's; the captive is enrich'd: an whofe fide? the beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whofe fide? the King's? no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for fo ftands the comparison) thou the beggar, for fo witneffeth thy lowlinefs. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles: for thy felf? me. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.

Thine in the dearest design of industry,

DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submiffive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play.

But if thou ftrive (poor foul) what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repafture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter?

What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the ftile.

Prin. Elfe your memory is bad, going o'er it ere

while +.

3 Thus doft thou hear, &c.] Thefe fix lines appear to be a quotation from fome ridiculous poem of that time.

WARBURTON.

ere while.] Juft now; a little while ago. So Raleigh, Here lies Hobbinol our shepherd,

while e'er.

Boyet.