To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy, Hel. What's his will elfe? Par. That you will take your inftant leave o' th' King And make this hafte as your own good proceeding; Strengthen'd with what apology, you think, May make it probable need. Hel. What more commands he? Par. That having this obtain'd, you prefently Attend his further pleasure. Hel. (24.) In every thing I wait upon his will. Hel. I pray you.-Come firrah. Enter Lafeu and Bertram. [Exit Par [To Clown. [Exeunt; Laf. But, I hope, your Lordship thinks not him a foldier. Ber. Yes, my Lord, and of very valiant approof. for a bunting. my dial goes not true; I took this lark Ber. I do affure you, my Lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant. Laf. I have then finned against his experience, and tranfgrefs'd against his valour; and my ftate that way is dangerous, fince I cannot yet find in my heart to repent: here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the amity. Enter Parolles. Par. These things fhall be done, Sir. (24) Hel. In every thing I wait upon bis will. Par. I fhall report it fo. Hel. I pray you come, firrah.] The pointing of Helen's laft hort fpeech ftands thus abfurdly, through all the editions. My regulation reftores the true meaning. Upon Parolles faying, he shall report it fo; Helena is intended to reply, I pray you, do fo; and then, turning to the Clown, the more familiarly addreffes bim, and bids him come along with her. Laf, Laf. I pray you, Sir, who's his taylor? Par. Sir? Laf. O, I know him well; 1, Sir, he, Sir's, a good workman, a very good taylor. Ber. Is the gone to the King? Ber. Will the away to-night? Afide to Parolles, Ber. I have writ my letters, cafketed my treafure, given order for our horfes; and to-night, when I Thould take poffeffion of the bride-and ere I do begin Laf. A good traveller is fomething at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lyes three thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, fhould be once heard and thrice beaten-God fave you, Captain. Ber. Is there any unkindness between my Lord and you, Monfieur ? Par. I know not, how I have deferved to run into my Lord's difpleasure. Laf. (25) You have made fhift to run into't, boots and fpars and all, like him that leapt into the cuftard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than fuffer queftion for your refidence. Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my Lord. Laf. And fhall do fo ever, tho' I took him at's prayers. Fare you well, my Lord, and believe this (25) You bave made fhift to run into't, boots and fpurs and all, like bim that leapt into the custard.] This odd allufion is not introduc'd, without a view to fatire. It was a foolery practis'd at city-entertainments, whilft the Jefier or Zany was in vogue, for him to jump into a large deep cuftard; fet for the purpose, to fet on a quantity of barren spectators to laugh; as our poet fays in his Hamlet. I do not advance this without fome authority: and a quotation from Ben Jonson will very well explain it. He ne'er will be admitted there, where Vennor comes. Devil's an Afs, A& I, Sc. I. of of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut: the foul of this man is his clothes. Truft him not in matter of heavy confequence:: I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewel, Monfieur, I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deferve at my hand, but we must do good against evil. [Exit. Par. An idle Lord, I fwear. Ber. I think fe. Par. Why, do you know him?. Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pafs. Here comes my clog. Enter Helena. Hel. I have, Sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the King, and have procured his leave For prefent parting; only, he defires Some private fpeech with you. Ber. I fhall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, On my particular. Prepar'd I was not "Twill be two days ere I fhall fee you, fo I leave you to your wisdom. Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, [Giving a letter But that I am your moft obedient fervant. To equal my great fortune. Farewel; hie home. Ber. Let that go:: My hafte is very great. Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon. Ber. Well, what would you fay ? Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe; Nor dare I fay, 'tis mine, and yet it is; But, like a tim'rous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. Ber. What would you have ? Hel. Something, and fcarce fo much-nothing, indeed I would not tell you what I would, myLord-faith, yes;— Ber. I pray you, ftay not; but in hafte to horse. Lord: Where are my other men? Monfieur, farewel. [Exit. Ber. Go thou tow'rd home, where I will never come, Whilft I can shake my fword, or hear the drum: Away, and for our flight. Par. Bravely, couragio! (26) Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my Lord : Where are my other men? Monfieur, farewel. Ber. Go thou tow'rd home, where I will never come,] [Exeunt, What other men is Helen here enquiring after? or who is the fuppos'd to ask for them? The old Countefs, 'tis certain, did not fend her to the court without fome attendants: but neither the Clown, nor any of her retinue, are now upon the ftage: I have not difturb'd the text, tho' I fufpect, the lines fhould be thus plac'd, and pointed. Ber. Where are my other men, Monfieur ?-[To Par.] Farewel: [To Hel, who goes out. Go thou towards home,-where I &c. Bertram, observing Helen to linger fondly, and wanting to shift her off, puts on a fhew of hafte, afks Parolles for his fervants, and then gives his wife an abrupt difmiffion. ACT ACT III. SCENE, the Duke's Court in Florence. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, two French Lords, with foldiers. DUKE. O that, from point to point, now have you heard 1 Lord. Holy feems the quarrel Upon your Grace's part; but black and fearful Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our coufin Francs 2 Lord. Good my Lord, The reasons of our ftate I cannot yield, Duke. Be it his pleasure. 2 Lord But I am fure, the younger of our nation, That furfeit on their eafe, will day by day Come here for phyfick. Duke. Welcome fhall they be: And all the honours, that can fly from us, Shall on them fettle. You know your places well. When better fall, for your avails they foli; To-morrow, to the field. VOL. III. C SCEN |