How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper:— Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [_Steps aside._ What, Longaville! and reading! Listen, ear. 40 _Biron._ Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear! _Enter_ LONGAVILLE, _with a paper_. _Long._ Ay me, I am forsworn! _Biron._ Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. _King._ In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame! 45 _Biron._ One drunkard loves another of the name. _Long._ Am I the first that have been perjured so? _Biron._ I could put thee in comfort. Not by two that I know: Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society. The shape of Love’s Tyburn that hangs up simplicity. 50 _Long._ 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. _Long._ This same shall go. [_Reads._ 55 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, 60 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, 65 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, 70 A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o’ the way. _Long._ 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, 75 And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish! _Enter_ DUMAIN _with a paper_. Dumain transform’d! four woodcocks in a dish! _Dum._ O most divine Kate! _Biron._ O most profane coxcomb! 80 _Dum._ By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye! _Biron._ By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie. _Dum._ Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted. _Biron._ An amber-colour’d raven was well noted. _Dum._ As upright as the cedar. _Biron._ Stoop, I say; 85 Her shoulder is with child. _Dum._ As fair as day. _Biron._ Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. _Dum._ O that I had my wish! _Long._ And I had mine! _King._ And I mine too, good Lord! _Biron._ Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word? 90