Act 4, Scene III - Page 2

triumviry, the corner-cap of society,
The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.

LONGAVILLE
I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move:
O sweet Maria, empress of my love!
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.

BIRON
O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:
Disfigure not his slop.

LONGAVILLE
This same shall go.

Reads

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To lose an oath to win a paradise?

BIRON
This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity,
A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.

LONGAVILLE
By whom shall I send this?--Company! stay.

Steps aside

BIRON
All hid, all hid; an old infant play.
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky.
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'ereye.
More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!

Enter DUMAIN, with a paper

Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in a dish!

DUMAIN
O most divine Kate!

BIRON
O most profane coxcomb!

DUMAIN
By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!

BIRON
By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.

DUMAIN
Her amber hair for foul hath amber quoted.

BIRON
An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.

DUMAIN
As upright as the cedar.

BIRON
Stoop, I say;
Her shoulder is with child.

DUMAIN
As fair as day.

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

DUMAIN
O that I had my wish!

LONGAVILLE
And I had mine!

FERDINAND
And I mine too, good Lord!

BIRON
Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word?

DUMAIN
I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be.

BIRON
A fever in your blood! why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!

DUMAIN
Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.

BIRON
Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.

DUMAIN
[Reads]
On a day--alack the day!--
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing