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SCENE changes to the Court of France. Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters,

and divers Attendants.

King. T Havefought with equa" fortune, and continue

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 feem To have us make denial.

i Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your Majesty, may plead For ample credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer;
And Florence is deny'd, before he comes :
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To fand on either part.

2 Lord. It may well serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are fick
For breathing and exploit.
King. What's he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles.
i Lord. It is the Count Roufillon, my good Lord,
Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'it thy father's face. Frank nature, rather curious than in hafte, Hatil well compos’d thee. . Thy father's moral parts May’it thou inherit 100! Welcome to Paris.'

Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's.

King. I would, I had that corporal foundness now, As when thy father and myself in friend hip First try'd our foldiership: he did look far Into the servicc of the time, and was Disciples of the brav'ft. He lafted long;

But

But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us Out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father; in his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To day in our young Lords ; but they may jest,
Till their own Tcorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour :
So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness (4)
Were in him ; pride or sharpness, if there were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exceptions bid him fpeak; and at that time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him
He us'd as creatores of another place,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks;
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger

times; Which, follow'd well, would now demonftrate them But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech,

King. Would, I were with him! he would always say, (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words He fcatter'd not-in ears, but grafted them To grow there and to bear ;) Let me not live, (Thus his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of paftime,

(4) So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness

Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,

His equal bad awak'd them.-- } This paffage feems to very incorrectly pointed, that the author's meaning is loft in the carelefsness.

As the text and ftops are reform'd, these are moft beautiful lines, and the sense this. He “ had no centimit or bitierness; if he had any thing that look'd like " pride or sharpneys; (of which qualities contempt and bitterness are " the exceffes,) his equal had awaked them, not his inferior ; to "s whom he seorn'd to discover any thing that bore the shadow of “ pride or sharpness.

Mr. Warburton.

When

When it was out,) let me not live, (quoth he,}
After

my

flame lacks oil; to be the fnuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before their fashions :-this he wish'd. I, after him, do after him with too, (Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,) ì quickly were dissolved from my hive, To give some labourers room.

2 Lord. You're loved, Sir; They, that least lend it

you,
shall lack

you

firft. King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, Count, Since the physician at your father's died? He was much fam’d.

Ber. Some fix months, fincé, my Lord.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet;
Lend me an arm ;-the reft have worn me out
With several applications; nature and fickness
Debaie it at their leisure. Welcome, Count,
My son's no dearer.

Ber. Thank your Majesty. [Flourish, Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Countess's at Rousillon,

Enter Countess, Steward and Clown. Count.

woman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my paft endeavours ; (5) for then we wound our modesty,

and

Count. I Wohh now hear; what say you of this gentle

(5) For tben we woand our modefty, and make foul obe clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publith them.] This sentiment our author has again inculcated in his Troilus and Crefida..

The worthiness of praise cistains his worth,

If he, that's prais’d, himself bring the praise forth. I won't pretend, that Shakespeare is here treading in the steps of Æfcbylus; but that poet has something in his Agamemnon, which might very well be a foundation to what our author has advanced in both these passages.

em

1 2

and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? get you gone, firrah: 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.

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a

poor fellow,

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Count. Well, Sir.

Clo. No, Madam; 'tis not so well that I am poor, tho' many of the rich are damn'd; but if I have your Lady ship's good will to go to the world, Ifoel the woman and I will do as we may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
Clo. I do beg your good will in this case.
Count. In what case ?

Clo. In Ifbel's case, and mine own; service is no heritage, and, I think, I shall never have the bleling of God, 'till I have issue o' my body; for they say, bearns are bleflings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

Clo. My poor body, Madam, requires it. I am driven on by the fleih; and he must needs go,

that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship’s reason?

Clo. 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 Aeth and blood are ; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage, fooner 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.

-αλλ' εναισίμως
Αινείν, παρ' άλλων χρή τόδ' έρχεσθαι γέρας.
But to be prais'd with honour, is a tribute
That must be paid us from another's tongue.

Clo

; ergo, he, that

Clo. Y are fhallow, 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 flesh and blood; he, that cherisheth my flesh and blood, loves my felh and blood ; he, that loves

my
Aeth and blood, is

my.

friend : 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 papist, 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 calum. nious knave ?

Clo. A prophet, I, Madam ; and I speak the truth the next way; • For I the ballad will repeat, which men fuil true

" shall find; “ Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckow fings

" by kind. Count. Get you gone, Sir, I'll talk with you more

Stew. 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 the, (6)

[Singing

anon.

Why

(6) Was this fair face the cause, quorb flae,

Why the Grecians suiked Croy?

Was this King Priam’s joy?] As the stanza, that follows, is in alternate rhyme, and as a rhyme is here wanting to fre in the ift verse; 'tis evident, the 3d line is warting. The old folo's give us a part of it; but how to supply the lot part, was the question.

Mr. Rowe has given us the fragment honestly, as he found it: but Mr. Pope, rather than to seem founder'a, bas funk it upon us. I communicated to my ingenious friend Mr. W'arburton how I found the pallage in the old books,

[Fond done, done, fond,
Was this King Priam's j'y ]

And

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