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King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To fetter up these powers of mine with reft; The fudden hand of death clofe up mine eye!

Hence, ever then, my heart is in thy breaft. Biron. * [And what to me, my love? and what to


Rof. You must be purged too, your fins are rank, You are attaint with fault and perjury; Therefore if you my favour mean to get, A twelve-month fhall you spend, and never reft, But feek the weary beds of people fick.]

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Cath. A wife! a beard, fair health and honefty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, fhall I fay, I thank you, gentle wife?
Cath. Not fo, my lord, a twelve-month and a day,
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say.
Come, when the King doth to my lady come;
Then if I have much love, I'll give you fome.

Dum. I'll ferve thee true and faithfully till then.
Cath. Yet fwear not, left ye be forfworn again.
Long. What fays Maria?

Mar. At the twelve-month's end,

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll ftay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are fo young.
Biron. Studies my lady? miftrefs, look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble Suit attends thy answer there;
Impose fome fervice on me for my love.

Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I faw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all eftates will ex ute,

*And what to me, my love? &c] These fix Lines are misplaced and ought to be expung'd, as being the Author's firft Draught only, of what he afterwards improved and made more perfect.


That lie within the mercy of your wit:

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won ;)
You fhall this twelve-month-term from day to day
Vifit the fpeechlefs Sick, and ftill converfe
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
T'enforce the pained Impotent to fmile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?

It cannot be, it is impoffible:

Mirth cannot move a foul in agony.

Rof. Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit,
Whofe influence is begot of that loofe grace,
Which fhallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jelt's profperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if fickly ears,
Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle fcorns; continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal:
But if they will not, throw away that spirit;
And I fhall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your Reformation.

Biron. A twelve-month? well; befal, what will befal,

I'll jeft a twelve-month in an Hospital.

Prin. Ay, fweet my lord, and fo I take my leave. [To the King. King. No, Madam; we will bring you on your


Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old Play; Jack hath not Jill; these ladies' courtesy

Might well have made our sport a Comedy.

King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelve-month and a day,

And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a Play.


Enter Armado,

Arm. Sweet Majefty, vouchsafe me—
Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. That worthy Knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kifs thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a Votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her fweet love three years. But, moftefteemed Greatnefs, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckow? it fhould have follow'd in the end of our Show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm. Holla! approach.

Enter all, for the Song.

This fide is Hiems, Winter.

This Ver, the spring: the one maintain'd by the owl, The other by the cuckow.

Ver, begin.

[blocks in formation]

When daizies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-fmocks all filver white,
And cuckow-buds of yellow hue,

* Do paint the meadows much-bedight;
The cuckow then on every Tree

Mocks married men; for thus fings he,


Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,

Unpleafing to a married ear!

Do paint the meadows with delight;] This is a pretty rural Song, in which the Images are drawn with great Force from Nature. But this fenfeless Expletive of painting with delight we should read thus,

Do paint the meadows much-bedight,

i. e. much bedecked or adorned, as they are in Spring-Time. Epithet is proper, and the Compound not inelegant.



When fhepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks:
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws;
And maidens bleach their fummer fmocks;
The cuckow then on every tree

Mocks married men; for thus fings he,
Cuckow !

Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,
Unpleafing to a married ear!


When ificles hang by the wall,

-And Dick the Shepherd blows his nail;
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail ;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly fings the flaring owl
Tu-whit! to-whoo!

A merry note,

While greafy Jone doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the Parfon's faw;
And birds fit brooding in the fnow,
And Marian's nofe looks red and raw ;
When roafted crabs hifs in the bowl,
Then nightly fings the flaring owl
Tu-whit! to whoo!

A merry note,

While greafy Jone doth keel the pot.

Arm. The words of Mercury

Are harsh after the fongs of Apollo:

You, that way; we, this way.

[Exeunt omnes.

The End of the Second Volume.

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