uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, | Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :--should be once heard, and thrice beaten.-God save Away, and for our flight. you, captain. Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur ? Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure. Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard;1 and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.--Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will2 deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. Par. An idle lord, I swear. Ber. I think so. Par. Why, do you not know him? Exit. Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from Ber. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, On my particular: prepar'd I was not So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you, Par Bravely, coragio! АСТ III. [Exeunt. The reasons of our state I cannot yield," Duke. Duke. Welcome shall they be ; [Flourish. Exeunt. Count. By what observance, I pray you? Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing. pick his teeth, and sing; I know a man that had Sir, I can nothing say, this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a But that I am your most obedient servant. Ber. Come, come, no more of that. Hel. And ever shall Ber. Let that go: My haste is very great: Farewell, hie home. Ber. Well, what would you say? But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much :-nothing, my lord-- indeed.-- I would not tell you what I would: well. To fly the favours of so good a king; 5 i. e. I cannot inform you of the reasons. 6 One not in the secret of affairs: so inward in a contrary sense. 7 Warburton and Upton are of opinion that we should read, By self unable notion.' 9 As we say at present, our young fellows. 9 The tops of the boots in Shakspeare's time turned down, and hung loosely over the leg. The folding part or top was the ruff. It was of softer leather than the boot, and often fringed. By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous Re-enter Clown. Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the mater? Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be killed? Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more; for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Save you, good madam. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gentle men, I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of We met him thitherward; from thence we came, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen, 2 Gent. Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my pass-That ride upon the violent speed of fire, This is a dreadful sentence ! Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,3 And to be a soldier? 2 Gent. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe't, Return you thither? 1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. Hel. [Reads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 1 Gent. "Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which His heart was not consenting to. Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! 1 i. e. affect me suddenly and deeply, as our sex are usually affected. 2 i. e. when you can get the ring which is on my finger into your possession. 3 If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself: an ellip-I tical expression for all the griefs that are thine.' 4 This passage as it stands is very obscure; it ap pears to me that something is omitted after much. Warburton interprets it, That his vices stand him in stead of virtues.' And Heath thought the meaning was:-This fellow hath a deal too much of that which alone can hold or judge that he has much in him ;' i. e. folly and ignorance. 5 In reply to the gentleman's declaration that they are her servants, the countess answers--no otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility. [Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. SCENE III. Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. Ber. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet Ber. Then go Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: 6 The old copy reads, still-peering. The emen la tion was adopted by Steevens: still-piecing is sull reuniting; peecing is the old orthography of the word. must confess that I should give the preference to stillpacing, i. e. still-moving, as more in the poet's manner. 7 That is the ravenous or ravening lion. 8 The sense is, From that place, where all the advantages that honour usually reaps from the danger rushes upon, is only a scar in testimony of its bravery, as, on the other hand, it often is the cause of losing all, even life itself. 9 So in Shakspeare's 116th Sonnet : 'Fortune and victory sit on thy helm Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall prove Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have Stew. I am Saint Jaques" pilgrim, thither gone; With sainted vow my faults to have amended. I, his despiteful Juno,2 sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, Stew. Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be in vain. What angel shall Count. Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear, And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Despatch the most convenient messenger :When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone, He will return; and hope I may, that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love: which of them both Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the wreck of maidenhead, cannot for all that dissuade misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; but, I hope, your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is so lost. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. To make distinction:-Provide this messenger:- SCENE V. Without the Walls of Florence. A zens. Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable service. Enter HELENA, in the dress of a Pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.— -Look, here comes a pilgrim I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another: I'll question her. Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound? Where do the palmers' lodge, I do beseech you? Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. Ay, marry, is it.-Hark you; [A march afar off. They come this way:-If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; 1 At Orleans was a church dedicated to St. Jaques, to which pilgrims formerly used to resort, to adore a part of the cross pretended to be found there. See Heylin's France Painted to the Life, 1656, p. 270-6. 2 Alluding to the story of Hercules. 3 i. e. discretion or thought. 4 Weigh here means to value or esteem. 5 Suggestions are temptations. 6 They are not the things for which their names would make them pass. To go under the name of so and so is a common expression. 7 Pilgrims; so called from a staff or bough of palm they were wont to carry, especially such as had visited the holy places at Jerusalem. Johnson has given Hel Is it yourself? Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. Wid. You came, I think, from France? Hel. I did so. Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, That has done worthy service. Hel. His name, I pray you. Dia. The count Rousillon; Know you such a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; His face I know not. Dia. Whatsoe'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, As 'tis reported, for the king had married him Against his liking: Think you it is so? Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his lady. Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the count, Reports but coarsely of her. Hel. Dia. Monsieur Parolles. Hel. What's his name? O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated; all her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examin'd.1° Dia. Alas, poor lady! "Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife Of a detesting lord. Wid. Ay,right; good creature, wheresoe'er she is,11 Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. Hel. How do you mean? May be, the amorous count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. Wid. He does, indeed; And brokes12 with all that can in such a suit Stavely's account of the difference between a palmer and a pilgrim in his Dictionary. 8 For, here as in other places, signifies cause, which Tooke says is its signification. 9 i. e. the mere tuh, or merely the truth. Mere was used in the ses of imple, absolute, decided. 10 That is, uestioned, doubted. 11 The old of y reads: 'I write good creature, wheresoe'er she is.' Malone once deemed this an error, and proposed, 'A right good creature,' which was admitted into the text, but he subsequently thought that the old reading was correct. 12 Deals with panders. Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adver saries, when we bring him to our tents: Be but your lordship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with So, now they come :- the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. Enter, with Drum and Colours, a party of the Flo- That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; Hel. Which is the Frenchman? 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's enter He; That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow; I would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honester, He were much goodlier :-Is't not a handsome gen-tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here tleman? Hel. I like him well. Dia. 'Tis pity, he is not honest: Yond's that That leads him to these places;1 were I his lady, Which is he? he comes. Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is he in your disposition. melancholy? Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'the battle. Par. Lose our drum! well. 2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum se lost!-There was an excellent command! to charge Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something: Look, in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend he has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! and Soldiers. Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents, Hel. Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Camp before Florence. Enter BERTRAM, and the two French Lords. 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't: let him have his way. 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding," hold me no more in your respect. 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. our own soldiers. 2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our suc cess: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. Par. It might have been recovered. Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet. Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and ex tend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal prepara tion, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it? Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceived in him? 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him, as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lord-lord; but the attempt I vow. ship's entertainment. 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you. Ber. I would, I knew in what particular action to try him. 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind 1 Theobald thought that we should red paces; but we may suppose the places alluded to to the houses of pimps and panders. 2 A hilding is a paltry fellow, a coward." 3 The camp. It seems to have been a new-fangled term at this time, introduced from the Low Countries. 4 The old copy reads ours. The emendation is Theo 7 I would recover the lost drum or another, or die in the attempt. An epitaph then usually began hic jacet. 8 The dilemmas of Parolles have nothing to do with those of the schoolmen, as the commentators imagined:-his dilemmas are the difficulties he was to encoun ter. Mr. Boswell argues that the penning down of these could not well encourage him in his certainty: but why are those distinct actions necessarily connected? 9 Steevens has mistaken this passage; Malone is right. Bertram's meaning is, that he will vouch for his doing all that it is possible for soldiership to effect. He was not yet certain of his cowardice. of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. Ber. Why, do you think, he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto ? 1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an r invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him,' you shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect. 2 Lord. We will make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night. 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught. Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. [Exit. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house,and show you The lass I spoke of. 2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest. Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i'the wind, Tokens and letters which she did resend; And this is all I have done: She's a fair creature: Will you go see her? 2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. Enter HELENA and Widow. Hdl. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, Hel. ACT IV. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Without the Florentine Camp. Enter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in ambush. 1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge' corner: When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter: for we must not seem to understand him; unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice? 1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, to us again? Nothing acquainted with these businesses; And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. Is Hel. Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband; Wid. Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Wid. The bottom of your purpose. Now I see Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more, V. 1 That is, almost run him down. An emboss'd stag is one so hard chased that it foams at the mouth. note on The Induction to The Taming of the Shrew 2 Before we strip him naked, or unmask him. 3 This proverbial phrase is noted by Ray, p. 216, ed. 1737. It is thus explained by old Cotgrave: Estre sur tent, To be in the wind, or to have the wind of. To get the wind, advantage, upper hand of; to have a man under his lee.' 4 i. e. by discovering herself to the Count. 5 Important, here and in other places, is used for importunate. Mr. Tyrwhitt says, that important may be from the French emportant. 6 L. e. the Count. 1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me. 1 Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i'the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose:10 chough's language, gabble enough and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. Enter PAROLLES. Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours say I have done? It must be a very plausible in'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I vention that carries it: They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too fool-hardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. 1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. [Aside. Par. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum; being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say, I got them in exploit: Yet slight ones will not carry it: They will Came say, off with so little? you and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore? 7 From under our windows. 8 This gingling riddle may be thus briefly explained. Bertram's is a wicked intention, though the act he commits is lawful. Helen's is both a lawful intention and a lawful deed. The fact as relates to Bertram was sin ful, because he intended to commit adultery; yet nei. ther he nor Helena actually sinned. 9 i. e. foreign troops in the enemy's pay. 10 The sense of this very obscure passage appears, from the context, to be: we must each fancy a jargon for himself, without aiming to be understood by each other; for, provided we appear to understand, that will be sufficient. I suspect that a word or two is omitted. 11 A bird of the jack-daw kind, |