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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;
2 Lord. It may well serve
Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles.
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 on us both did haggish age steal on,
times; Which, follow'd well, would now demonftrate them But goers backward.
Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,
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.
When it was out,) let me not live, (quoth he,}
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
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;
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,
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.
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
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. 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.
; 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
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)
(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,