Yet fince love's argument was first on foot, From what it purpos'd: Since, to wail friends loft, Is not by much fo wholefome, profitable, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not, my griefs are double, Biron. 9 Honeft plain words best pierce the ear of grief; And by these badges understand the King. For your fair fakes have we neglected time, Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies, -which fain would it convince; that is, the entreaties of love, which would fain over-power grief. So Lady Macbeth declares, That he will convince the chamberlain with wine. 9 Honest plain words, &c.-] As it feems not very proper for Biron to court the princefs for the king in the king's prefence, at this critical moment, I believe By By being once false, for ever to be true Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Dum. Our letters, Madam, fhew'd much more than jeft, Long. So did our looks. Rof. We did not cote them fo3. King. Now at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. Prin. A time, methinks, too short, To make a world-without-end bargain in; No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much, By being once falfe, for ever to be true To those that made us false.~] We should read, We to ourselves prove true. 3 As bombaft, and as lining to the time :] This line is obfcure. Bombaft was a kind of loose texture not unlike what is now called wadding, ufed to give the dreffes of that time bulk and protuberance, without much encreafe of weight; whence the fame name is yet given to a tumour of words unfupported by folid fentiment. The princefs, therefore, fays, that they confidered this courtfhip as but bombaft, as fomething to fill out life, which not being clofely united with it, might be thrown away at pleafure. 4 But more devout, than THESE ARE our refpecs Have we not been ;-] This nonfenfe should be read thus, But more devout than THIS, (SAVE our refpects) Have we not been i. e. fave the refpect we owe to your majefty's quality, your courtship we have laughed at, and made jest of. WARBURTON. I read with Sir T. Hanmer, But more devout than this, in our respects. 5 We did not COAT them fo.] We fhould read, QUOTE, efteem, reckon. Full Full of dear guiltinefs; and therefore, this— Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Come challenge; challenge me, by these deserts; For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up thefe 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 me? 7 6 TO FLATTER up these powers of mine with reft;] We fhould read, FETTER up, i. e. the turbulence of his paffion, which hindered him from fleeping, while he was uncertain whether the would have him or not. So that he fpeaks to this purpose, If I would not do more than this to gain my wonted repofe, may that repofe end in my death. WARB. Rof. Flatter or footb is, in my opinion, more appofite to the king's purpose than fetter. Perhaps we may read, To flatter on these hours of time with reft; That is, I would not deny to live in the hermitage, to make the year of delay pafs in quiet. 7 Biron. [And what to me, my Love? and what to me? Rof. 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 fee the weary beds of people sick, Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? I'll mark no words that fmooth-fac'd wooers fay. Dum. I'll ferve thee true and faithfully till then. Mar. At the twelve-month's end, I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Impose some service on me for thy love. Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, 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 jeft's profperity lies in the ear * Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Biron. A twelve-month? well; befal what will befal, I'll jeft a twelve-month in an Hofpital. Prin. Ay, fweet my lord, and fo I take my leave. [To the King. King. No, Madam; we will bring you on your way. - dear fhould here, as in many other places, be dere, fad, odious. |