Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is mufick, and fweet fire. Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, That fings heaven's praife with fuch an earthly tongue! HOL. You find not the apoftrophes, and fo mifs the accent: let me fupervize the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poefy, caret. Ovidius Nafo was the man: and why, indeed Nafo; but for fmelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing fo doth the hound his mafter, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damofella virgin, was this directed to you? J42. Ay, fir, from one monfieur Biron, one of the ftrange queen's lords. HOL. I will overglance the fuperfcript. To the fnowwhite band of the most beauteous Lady Rofaline. I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the perfon written unto: BIRON. Your Ladyfhip's in all defired employment, Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a fequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the way of progreffion, hath miscarried.—Trip and go my fweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king; it may concern much: Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu. [life! J42. Good Coftard, go with me.with me.-Sir, God fave your COST. Have with thee, my girl. [Exeunt Cosr. and FAQ. NATH. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father faith HoL. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable colours. But, to return to the verses; Did they please Sir Nathaniel? you, HOL. 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 forefaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither favouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I befeech your fociety. NATH. And thank you too: for fociety, (faith the text,) is the happiness of life. HOL. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. —Sir, [To DULL.] I do invite you too; you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. SCENE III. Another part of the fame. Enter BIRON with a paper. [Exeunt. 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, forrow! for fo, they fay, the fool faid, and fo fay I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills fheep; it kills me, I a fheep: Well proved again on my fide! 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 me melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my fonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool fent it, and the lady hath it: fweet 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. Ah me! BIRON. [afide.] Shot, by heaven!-Proceed, fweet Cupid; thou haft thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the . left pap:—I'faith secrets.— KING. [reads.] So fweet a kifs the golden fun gives not As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have fmote And they thy glory through my grief will show: queen of queens, bow far doft thou excel! No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper; Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper. [Steps afide. What, Longaville! and reading! liften, ear. BIRON. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, appear! LONG. Ah me! I am forfworn. [Afide. [Afide, BIRON. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing pa pers. [Afide. KING. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in shame! [Afide. BIRON. One drunkard loves another of the name. [Afide. LONG. Am I the first that have been perjur'd fo? [Afide. BIRON. I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know: [Afide. Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The fhape of love's Tyburn that hangs up fimplicity. LONG. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to move : O fweet Maria, emprefs of my love! These numbers will I tear, and write in profe. BIRON. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hofe : Disfigure not his flop. LONG. This fame fhall go.. [Afide. [He reads the fonnet. Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye ('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,) My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Thy grace being gain'd, cures all difgrace in me. If broken then, it is no fault of mine; If by me broke, What fool is not fo wife, To lefe an oath to win a paradife? [flesh a deity; BIRON. [Afide.] This is the liver vein, which makes A green goofe, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry... God amend us, God amend! we are much out o'the way. Enter DUMAIN, with a paper. LONG, By whom shall I send this?-Company! stay. [Stepping afide. BIRON. [Afide.] All hid, all hid, an old infant play: Like a demi-god here fit I in the sky, And wretched fools' fecrets heedfully o'er-eye. BIRON. O most prophane coxcomb! [Afide. DUM. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye! BIRON. By earth, fhe is but corporal; there you lie, [Afide. DUM. Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted. BIRON. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. [Afide, DUM. As upright as the cedar. BIRON. Stoop, I fay; Her fhoulder is with child. DUM. As fair as day. [Afide. BIRON. Ay, as fome days; but then no fun muft fhine." BIRON. Amen, fo I had mine: Is not that a good word? DUM. I would forget her; but a fever fhe [Afide. Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. DUM. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ, |