Abbildungen der Seite

Proud fcornful boy, unworthy this good gift!
That doft in vile mifprifion fhackle up
My love, and her defert; that canst not dream,
We poizing us in her defective scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
It is in us to plant thine honour, where
We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt:
Obey our Will, which travels in thy good;
Believe not thy disdain, but presently
Do thine own fortunes that obedient Right,
Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims:
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
Into the staggers, and the careless lapse
Of youth and ignorance; my revenge and hate
Loofing upon thee in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity. Speak thine anfwer.

Ber. Pardon, my gracious Lord; for I fubmit
My fancy to your eyes. When I confider,
What great Creation, and what dole of Honour
Flies where you bid; I find, that the, which late
Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
The praised of the King; who, fo ennobled,
Is, as 'twere, born fo.

King. Take her by the hand,

And tell her, fhe is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize; if not in thy estate,

A ballance more repleat.

Ber. I take her hand.

King. Good fortune, and the favour of the King Smile upon this Contract; whose ceremony Shall feem expedient on the now-born brief, And be perform'd to night; the folemn Feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting abfent Friends. As thou lov'ft her, Thy love's to me religious; elfe does err.


Manent Parolles and Lafeu.

Laf. Do you hear, Monfieur? a word with you.
Par. Your pleasure, Sir?

Laf. Your Lord and Mafter did well to make his recantation.


Par. Recantation? - my Lord? my Mafter? Laf. Ay, is it not a language I speak? Par. A moft harfh one, and not to be understood without bloody fucceeding. My master?

Laf. Are you companion to the Count Roufillon? Par. To any Count; to all Counts; to what is


Laf. To what is Count's man; Count's mafter is of another ftile.

Par. You are too old, Sir; let it fatisfie you, you are too old.

Laf. I must tell thee, firrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee.

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two Ordinaries, to be a pretty wife fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel, it might pafs; yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly diffuade me from believing thee a veffel of too great a burthen. I have now found thee; when I lofe thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that thou'rt fcarce worth.

Par. Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee

Laf. (23) Do not plunge thy felf too far in anger, left thou haften thy tryal; which if,-Lord have mer-. cy on thee for a hen! fo, my good window of lattice,

(23) Do not plunge thy felf too far in anger, left thou haften thy Tryal; which is, Lord have Mercy on thee for a hen ;] Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope, either by Inadvertence, or fome other Fatality, have blunder'd this Paffage into ftark Nonfenfe. I have reftor'd the Reading of the old Folio, and by fubjoining the Mark to fhew a Break is neceffary, have retriev'd the Poet's genuine Sense:

which if

Lord have Mercy on thee for a hen!

The Sequel of the Sentence is imply'd, not exprefs'd: This Figure the Rhetoricians have call'd 'ATorinois. A remarkable Inftance we have of it in the first Book of Virgil's Eneis.

Quos Ego

So likewife in Terence ; .

-fed motos præftat componere Fluctus.

Mala mens, malus animus; quem quidèm Ego fi
Sed quid opus eft verbis?

But I fhall have Occafion to remark again upon It,
King Lear.


Andr. A&. I. Sc. I.

when I come to


fare thee well; thy cafement I need not open, I look through thee. Give me thy hand.

Par. My Lord, you give me moft egregious indignity.

Laf. Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy

of it.

Par. I have not, my Lord, deferv'd it.

Laf. Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not bate thee a scruple.

Par. Well, I fhall be wifer

Laf. Ev'n as foon as thou can'ft, for thou haft to pull at a Smack o'th' contrary. If ever thou beeft bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou fhalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a defire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may fay in the default, he is a man I


Par. My Lord, you do me most insupportable vexa


Laf. I would, it were hell-pains for thy fake, and my poor doing eternal for doing, I am paft; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave..

[Exit. Par. Well, thou haft a Son fhall take this disgrace off me; fcurvy, old, filthy, fcurvy Lord! well, I must be patient, there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a Lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of- I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Re-enter Lafeu.

Laf. Sirrah, your Lord and Master's married, there's news for you: you have a new Mistress.

Par. I most unfeignedly befeech your Lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He, my good Lord, whom I serve above, is my Master.

Laf. Who? God?
Par. Ay, Sir.


[merged small][ocr errors]

Laf. The Devil it is, that's thy Mafter. Why doft thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? doft make hose of thy fleeves? do other fervants fo? thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose ftands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou waft created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.

Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my Lord. Laf. Go to, Sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller you are more fawcy with Lords and honourable Perfonages, than the commiffion of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, elfe I'd call you knave. I leave you. : [Exit.

Enter Bertram.

Par. Good, very good, it is fo then. ry good, let it be conceal'd a while.

Good, ve

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Par. What is the matter, fweet heart?

Ber. Although before the folemn Prieft I've sworn, I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, fweet heart?


Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me:
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot: to th' wars.

Ber. There's letters from my Mother; what the import is, I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known: to th' wars, my boy, to th' wars.

He wears his honour in a box unseen,
That hugs his kickfy-wickly here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should fuftain the Bound and high Curvet
Of Mars's fiery Steed: to other Regions
France is a ftable, we that dwell in't jades,
Therefore to th' war.


Ber. It fhall be fo, I'll fend her to my house,
Acquaint my Mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the King
That which I durft not speak. His prefent gift
Shall furnish me to thofe Italian fields,
Where noble Fellows ftrike.


War is no ftrife


To the dark House, and the detefted Wife.

Par. Will this Capricio hold in thee, art fure? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll fend her ftraight away: to morrow


I'll to the wars, the to her fingle forrow.

Par. Why, these balls bound, there's noise in it
"Tis hard;

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

A young Man, married, is a Man that's marr'd:
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go,
The King has done you wrong: but, huh! 'tis fo.

Enter Helena and Clown.

[ocr errors]

Hel. My Mother greets me kindly, is the well? Clo. She is not well, but yet fhe has her health; The's very merry, but yet fhe is not well: but, thanks be given, the's very well, and wants nothing ilth' world; but yet she is not well.

[ocr errors]

Hel. If the be very well, what does the ail, that she's not very well?


Clo. Truly, fhe's very well, indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that fhe's not in Heav'n, whither God fend her quickly; the other, that she's in Earth, from whence God fend her quickly!

Enter Parolles.

Par. Bless you, my fortunate Lady.

Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortune.

[ocr errors]


« ZurückWeiter »