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A CT V.

SCENE, the Court of France, at Marseilles.

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two

B

Attendants.

HELENA.

UT this exceeding posting day and night

Muft wear your fpirits low; we cannot help it.
But fince you've made the days and nights as one,

To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs;
Be bold, you do fo grow in my requital,

As nothing can unroot you. In happy time,

Enter a Gentleman.

This man may help me to his Majesty's ear,
If he would fpend his power. God fave you, Sir.
Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Gent. I have been fometimes there.

Hel. I do prefume, Sir, that you are not fallen
From the report that goes upon your goodness;
And therefore, goaded with moft fharp occafions
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The ufe of your own virtues, for the which
I fhall continue thankful.

Gent. What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you

To give this poor petition to the King;
And aid me with that ftore of power you have,
To come into his prefence.

Gent. The King's not here.

Hel. Not here, Sir?

Gent.

Gent. Not, indeed.

He hence remov'd last night, and with more hafte
Than is his use.

Wid. Lord, how we lofe our pains!

Hel. All's well, that ends well yet,
Tho' time feem fo adverfe, and means unfit :
I do befeech you, whither is he gone?
Gen. Marry, as I take it, to Roufillon,
Whither I'm going.

Hel. I beseech you, Sir,

Since you are like to fee the King before me,
Commend this paper his
to gracious hand;
Which, I prefume, fhall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it.
I will come after you with what good fpecd
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This I'll do for you.

Hel. And you fhall find your felf to be well thank'd, What-e'er falls more. We must to horse again. Go, go, provide.

Par.

SCENE changes to Roufillon.

G

Enter Clown, and Parolles.

[Exeunt.

OOD Mr. Levatch, give my Lord Lafeu this letter; I have ere now, Sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher cloaths; (23) but I am now, Sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo.

-in

(23) But I am now, Sir, muddied in Fortune's Mood, and smelt fomewhat strong of her strong Displeasure.] Fortune's Mood is, without Queftion, good Sense, and very proper: and yet I verily believe, the Poet wrote as I have reftor'd in the Text;Fortune's Moat: because the Clown in the very next Speech replies, I will henceforth eat no Fish of Fortune's buttering, and again, when he comes to repeat Parolles's Petition to Lafen, that hath fall'n into the unclean Fishpond of her Displeasure, and, as he fays, is muddied withal. And again, Pray you, Sir› use

the

Clo. Truly, fortune's difpleafure is but fluttish, if it fmell fo ftrongly as thou fpeak'ft of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's butt'ring. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, Sir; I fpake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose against any man's metaphor. Pry'thee, get thee further.

Par. Pray you, Sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh! pr'ythee, ftand away; a paper from fortune's clofe-tool, to give to a Nobleman! look, here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu.

Here is a pur of fortune's, Sir, or fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat ;) that hath fall'n into the unclean fish pond of her difpleasure, and, as he fays, is muddied withal. Pray you, Sir, ufe the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rafcally knave. (24) I do pity his diftrefs in my fimilies of comfort, and leave him to your Lordship.

Par. My Lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruNelly scratch'd.

the Carp as you may, &c. In all which Places, 'tis obvious, a Moat, or Pond, is the Allufion. Befides, Parolles smelling ftrong, as he says, of Fortune's ftrong Displeasure, carries on the fame Image: For as the Moats round old Seats were always replenish'd with Fish, fo the Clown's joke of holding his Nofe, we may prefume, proceeded from This- -because la Chambre baffe was always over the Moat: and therefore the Clown humourously fays, when Parolles is preffing him to deliver his Letter to Lord Lafen. -Foh! prythee, ftand away: A Paper from Fortune's Clofeftool, to give to a Nobleman!

(24) I do pity his Diftrefs in my Smiles of Comfort,] This very humourous Paffage my Friend Mr. Warburton refcued from Nonfenfe most happily, by the Infertion of a fingle Letter, in the Manner I have reform'd the Text. Thefe Simities of Comfort are ironically meant by the Clown; as much as to fay, you may perceive, how much I think he deferves Comfort, by my calling him Fortune's Cat, Carp, rafcally Knave, &c.

Laf.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you play'd the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of her felf is a good Lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? there's a Quart-d'ecu for you: let the juftices make you and fortune friends; I am for other bufinefs.

Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one fingle word.

Laf. You beg a fingle penny more: come, you shall ha't, fave your word.

Par. My name, my good Lord, is Parolles.

Laf. You beg more than one word then. Cox' my paffion! give me your hand: how does your drum? Par. O my good lord, you were the first, that found

me.

Laf. Was I, infooth? and I was the first, that loft thee.

Par. It lyes in you, my Lord, to bring me in fome grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! doft thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the Devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Sound Trumpets.] The King's coming, I know, by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talk of you laft night; tho' you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow.

Par. I praife God for you,

[Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King, Countefs, Lafeu, the two French Lords, with attendants.

King. We loft a jewel of her, (25) our esteem Was made much poorer by it; but your fon,

(25)

our Efteem

As

Was made much poorer by it :—] What's the Meaning of the King's Efteem being made poorer by the Lofs of Helen? I think, it can only be underftood in one Senfe; and that Senfe won't carry Water: i. e. We fuffer'd in our Eftimation by her

Lofs

As mad in folly, lack'd the fenfe to know
Her eftimation home.

Count. 'Tis paft, my Liege;

And I beseech your Majefty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i'th' blade of youth,
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.

King. My honour'd Lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all;

Tho' my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to fhoot.

Laf. This I must fay,

But first I beg my pardon; the young Lord
Did to his Majefty, his mother, and his lady,
Offence of mighty note; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all. He loft a wife,
Whofe beauty did aftonish the furvey

Of richest eyes; whofe words all ears took captive;
Whofe dear perfection, hearts, that scorn'd to serve,
Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praifing what is loft,

Makes the remembrance dear. Well

hither;

We're reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: let him not ask our pardon.
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
Th' incenfing relicks of it. Let him approach,
A ftranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent. I fhall, my Liege.

call him

Lofs. But how fo? Did the King contribute to her Misfortunes? Nothing like it. Or did he not do all in his Power to prevent them? Yes; he married Bertram to her. We must certainly read therefore;

We lost a Jewel of her; our Eftate

Was made much poorer by it:

That's the certain Confequence of any one's lofing a Jewel, for their Eftate to be made proportionably poorer according to the Value of the Lofs.

Mr. Warburton.

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