If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? 100 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d. Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend: 105 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire: Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, 110 Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong, That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue. _Hol._ You find not the apostrophas, and so miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers 115 ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired 120 horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you? _Jaq._ Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange queen’s lords. _Hol._ I will overglance the superscript: ‘To the snow-white 125 hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.’ I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: ‘Your ladyship’s in all desired employment, BIRON.’ Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath 130 framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen’s, which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king: it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty: adieu. 135 _Jaq._ Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life! _Cost._ Have with thee, my girl. [_Exeunt Cost. and Jaq._ _Nath._ Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith,— _Hol._ Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable 140 colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel? _Nath._ Marvellous well for the pen. _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 145 gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I beseech your society. 150 _Nath._ And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life.