Shakespeare's First Folio
Chapter 122 : Kin. Hence sirs, away Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay Ber. Swe

Kin. Hence sirs, away

Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay

Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace, As true we are as flesh and bloud can be, The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face: Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.

We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne: Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne

King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of thine?

Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline, That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.) At the first opening of the gorgeous East, Bowes not his va.s.sall head, and strooken blinde, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?

What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow, That is not blinded by her maiestie?

Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now?

My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone, Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light

Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.

O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night, Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty, Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke, Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke.

Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not, To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs: She pa.s.ses prayse, then prayse too short doth blot.

A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne, Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne, And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.

O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things s.h.i.+ne

King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie

Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?

A wife of such wood were felicite.

O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?

That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke, If that she learne not of her eye to looke: No face is faire that is not full so blacke

Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of h.e.l.l, The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night: And beauties crest becomes the heauens well

Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.

O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt, It mournes, that painting vsurping haire Should rauish doters with a false aspect: And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.

Her fauour turnes the fas.h.i.+on of the dayes, For natiue bloud is counted painting now: And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise, Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow

Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke

Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright

King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake

Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light

Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine, For feare their colours should be washt away

Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine, Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day

Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here

Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee

Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere

Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see

Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread

Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes?

The street should see as she walk'd ouer head

Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?

Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne

Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne

Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill

Long. O some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell

Dum. Some salue for periurie, Ber. O 'tis more then neede.

Haue at you then affections men at armes, Consider what you first did sweare vnto: To fast, to study, and to see no woman: Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth.

Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young: And abstinence ingenders maladies.

And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords) In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.

Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.

For when would you my Lord, or you, or you, Haue found the ground of studies excellence, Without the beauty of a womans face; From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue, They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.

Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long during action tyres The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.

Now for not looking on a womans face, You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes: And studie too, the causer of your vow.

For where is any Author in the world, Teaches such beauty as a womans eye: Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe, And where we are, our Learning likewise is.

Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes, With our selues.

Doe we not likewise see our learning there?

O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords, And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes: For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?

In leaden contemplation haue found out Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes, Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with: Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine: And therefore finding barraine practizers, Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle.

But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes, Liues not alone emured in the braine: But with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in euery power, And giues to euery power a double power, Aboue their functions and their offices.

It addes a precious seeing to the eye: A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.

A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound.

When the suspicious head of theft is stopt.

Loues feeling is more soft and sensible, Then are the tender hornes of c.o.c.kle Snayles.

Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste, For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?

Still climing trees in the Hesperides.

Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall, As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.

And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the G.o.ds, Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.

Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write, Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes: O then his lines would rauish sauage eares, And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.

From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.

They sparcle still the right promethean fire, They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes, That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.

Else none at all in ought proues excellent.

Then fooles you were these women to forsweare: Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles, For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue: Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.

Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women: Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.

Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues, Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes: It is religion to be thus forsworne.

For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law: And who can seuer loue from Charity

Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field

Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords, Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd, In conflict that you get the Sunne of them