[000] Scene III. The same.
LLL IV. 3 Enter Biron, with a paper.
[001] Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing [002] myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch,— [003] pitch that defiles: defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is [005] as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: well [006] proved again o’ my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i’ faith, I will not. O, but her eye,—by this light, but for [009] her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, 010 I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to [012] be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet 015 clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one [017] with a paper: God give him grace to groan! [Stands aside.
Enter the King, with a paper.
King. Ay me!
Biron. [Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid: 020 thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets!
King [reads].
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
[024] As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote