« AnteriorContinuar »
SCENE changes to the Court of France.
Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and divers Attendants.
HE Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.
1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir.
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it,
1 Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd fo to your Majefty, may plead For ample credence.
King. He hath arm'd our answer
And Florence is deny'd, before he comes :
2 Lord. It may well ferve
A nursery to our gentry, who are fick
King. What's he comes here?
Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.
I Lord. It is the count Roufillon, my good lord, young
King. Youth, thou bear'ft thy father's face. Frank nature, rather curious than in hafte, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majefty's. King. I would I had that corporal foundness now, As when thy father and myfelf in friendship
First try'd our foldiership: he did look far
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks;
In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would now demonftrate them
But goers backward.
Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.
King. 'Would, I were with him! he would always fay,
(3) 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 fo very incorrectly pointed, that the Author's Meaning is loft in the Carelessnefs. As the Text and Stops are reform'd, thefe "He had no are most beautiful Lines, and the Senfe this
"Contempt or Bitterness; if he had any thing that look'd like "Pride or Sharpness, (of which Qualities Contempt and Bit"ternefs are the Exceffes,) his Equal had awak'd them, not "his Inferior; to whom he fcorn'd to difcover any thing that "bore the Shadow of Pride or Sharpness." Mr. Warburton.
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plaufive words
On the catastrophe and heel of paftime,
(Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home) I quickly were diffolved from my hive,
To give fome labourers room.
2 Lord. You're loved, Sir;
They, that leaft lend it you, fhall lack you first.
He was much fam'd.
Ber. Some fix months fince, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet; Lend me an arm; the reft have worn me out. With several applications; nature and fickness Debate it at their leifure.
My fon's no dearer.
Ber. Thank your Majefty.
SCENE changes to the Countess's at Roufillon.
Enter Countefs, Steward, and Clown.
Will now hear; what fay you of this gentlewoman?
Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of our defervings, when of ourselves we publish them.
Count. What does this knave here? get you gone,
Sirrah 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 fuch knaveries yours..
Clo. "Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.
Count. Well, Sir.
Clo. No, Madam; 'tis not fo well that I am poor, tho' many of the rich are damn'd; but, if I have your ladyfhip's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ?
Clo. I do beg your good will in this cafe..
Clo. In Isbel's cafe, and mine own; fervice is no he ritage, and, I think, I fhall never have the bleffing of God, 'till I have iffue of my body; for they fay, bearns are bleffings.
Count. Tell me thy reafon why thou wilt marry.
Clo. My poor body, Madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he muft needs go, that the devil drives.
Count. Is this all your worship's reason?
Clo. Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, fuch as they are.
Count. May the world know them?
Clo. I have been, Madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh 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 fake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
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, fpares 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 flesh and blood; he, that loves my
flesh and blood, is my friend: ergo, he, that kiffes 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 Poyfam the papist, howfoe'er their hearts are fever'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 calumnious knave?
Clo. A prophet, I, Madam; and I fpeak the truth the next way;
"For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true "fhall find;
"Your marriage comes by deftiny, your cuckow fings by kind,
Count. Get you gone, Sir, I'll talk with you more anon. Stew. May it please you, Madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to fpeak.
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean.
Clo. "Was this fair face the caufe, quoth fhe, (4)
66 Why the Grecians facked Troy?
"Fond done, fond done;
for Paris, he,
(4) Was this fair Face the Caufe, quoth She,
Why the Grecians facked Troy?
Was this King Priam's Joy?] As the Stanza, that follows, is in alternate Rhyme, and as a Rhyme is here wanting to She in the first Verfe; 'tis evident, the third Line is wanting. The old Folio's give Us a Part of it; but how to supply the loft Part, was the Question. Mr. Rowe has given us the Frag ment honestly, as he found it: but Mr. Pope, rather than to feem founder'd, has funk it upon Us. I communicated to my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton, how I found the Paffage in the old Books;
[Fond done, done, fond,
Was this King Priam's Joy ?]
And from Him I received that Supplement, which I have given to the Text. And the Hiftorians tell us, it was Paris who was Priam's favourite Son.