Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must

[Aside.

King. And I mine too, good Lord!

Biron, Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good

word?

Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she

[Aside.

Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.
Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then in-

cision

Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision!

[Aside. Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have

writ.

Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. [Aside.

Dum. 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:

Thou for whom even 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! Ill, to example ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.

Long. Dumain, [advancing.] thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:

You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.

King. Come, sir, [advancing.] 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
blush.

I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion;
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's

eyes:

You would for paradise break faith and troth;

[To LONG. And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [TO DUMAIN.

What will Birón say, when that he shall hear
A faith infring'd, which such a 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.
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.—
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:

[Descends from the tree. Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to re

prove

These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears,
There is no certain princess that appears:
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?

You found his mote; the king your mote did

see;

But I a beam do find in each of three.

O, what a scene of foolery I have seen,

Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!2
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformed to a gnat !
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,

2 Grief.

And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critick3 Timon laugh at idle toys !
Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumain?
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast :-
A caudle, ho!

King.

Too bitter is thy jest.

Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you;
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in ;
I am betray'd, by keeping company

With moon-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 4 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.

Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.

Jaq. God bless the king!

The treason, and you, go in peace away together.

Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be

read;

Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said.

King. Biron, read it over.

Where hadst thou it?

Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

[Giving him the letter.

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?

Biron. A toy, 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. [Picks up the pieces. Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To CosTARD.] you were born to do me shame.

Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess.

King. What?

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess:

He, he, and you, my liege, and I,

Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.

O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron.

Will these turtles be gone?

King.

True, true; we are four :

Hence, sirs; away.

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors

stay.

[Exeunt CoST. and JAQ.