« ZurückWeiter »
Proud fcornful boy, unworthy this good gift!
Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
Ber. Pardon, my gracious Lord; for I fubmit
King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her, fhe is thine: to whom I promise
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.
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:
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.
So likewife in Terence ; .
-fed motos præftat componere Fluctus.
Mala mens, malus animus; quem quidèm Ego fi
But I fhall have Occafion to remark again upon It,
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
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.
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?
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.
Par. Good, very good, it is fo then. ry good, let it be conceal'd a while.
Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
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:
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,
Ber. It fhall be fo, I'll fend her to my house,
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
A young Man, married, is a Man that's marr'd:
Enter Helena and Clown.
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.
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!
Par. Bless you, my fortunate Lady.
Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortune.