« PreviousContinue »
SCENE changes to the Court of France. Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters,
and divers Attendants. King.
HE :: Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears ;
tinue A braving war.
i Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir. King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive it, A certainty vouch'd from our cousin Austria ; With caution, that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial.
i Lord. His love and wisdom,
King. He hath arm’d our answer ;
2 Lord. It may well serve
Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles.
King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face.
Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majetty's.
King. I would, I had that corporal foundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship
First try'd our soldiership: he did look far
Exceptions bid him speak ; and at that time
He us'd as creatures of another place,
King. 'Would, I were with him! he would always
(3) So like a Courtier, no Contempt or Bitterness
Were in his Pride or Sharpness ; if they were,
His Equal had awak'd them. --] This Passage seems so very incorreâly pointed, that the Author's Meaning is iost in the Carelefsness. As the Text and stops are reform'd, these are most beautiful Lines, and the Sense this " He had no " Contempt or Bitterness; if he had any thing that look'd like “ Pride or Sharpness, (of which Qualities Contempt and Bite “ terness are the Excesses,) his Equal had awak'd them, not ,“ his Inferior; to whom he scorn'd to discover any thing that " bore the Shadow of Pride or Sharpness.".' Mr. Warburton.
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
2 Lord. You're loved, Sir ;
Ber. Some six months since, my lord.
yet ; Lend me an arm ;
-the rest have worn me out
Ber. Thank your Majesty. [Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Countess's at Rousillon.
Enter Countess, Steward and Clown. Count. Will now hear ; what say you of this gentle
woman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of our defervings, when of ourselves we publish them. Count. What does this knavę here? get you gone,
Sirrah: the complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe ; 'tis my flowness that I do not, for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.
Cio. 'Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.
Count. Well, Sir.
Cl. No, Madam ; 'tis not so well that I am poor, tho' many of the rich are damn'd; but, if I have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ?
Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own; service is no he. ritage, and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, 'till I have issue of iny body; for they say, bearns are blessings.
Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
Clo. My poor body, Madam, requires it. I am drivep on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.
Count. Is this all your worship's reason?
Cl. Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. - Count. May the world know them ?
Clo. I have been, Madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are ; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.
Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, Madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clown. Y'are Thallow, Madam, in great friends ; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am weary of; he, that eares my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inne the crop ; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge ; he, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my Aeth and blood ; he, that cherisheth my feh and blood, loves my flesh and blood ; he, that loves my
flesh and blood, is my friend : ergo, he, that kisses my wife, is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage ; for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papift, howsoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one; they may joul horns together, like any deer i'th' herd.
Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave ?
Clo. A prophet, I, Madam ; and I speak the truth the next way; “ For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true
66 shall find ; “ Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckow sings
by kind. Count. Get you gone, Sir, I'll talk with you more anon.
Stezu. May it please you, Madam, that he bid Helen come to you ; of her I am to speak.
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo. " Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, (4)
[Singing. Why the Grecians facked Troy? 6. Fond done, fond done -for Paris, he, (4) Was this fair Face the Cause, quosh She,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Was this King Prian's Joy?} As the Stanza, that follows, is in alternate Rhyme, and as a Rhyme'i here wanting to She in the first Verse ; 'ris evident, the third ine is wanting. The old Folio's give Us a Part of it; but how to supply the loft Part, was the Question. Mr. Rowe has given us the Frag. ment honeftly, as he found it : but Mr. Pope, rather than to seem founder'd, has sunk it upon Us. I communicated to niy ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton, how I found the Pasjage in the old Books ;
[Fond done, done, fond,
Was this King Priam's Joy?} And from Him I received that Supplement, which I have given to the Text. And the Historians tell us, it was Paris who was Priam's favourite Son.