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SCENE, the Court of France, at Marseilles.

B

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two
Attendants. 3

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 Majefty's ear,
If he would spend his power. God fave you, Sir.
Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have feen you in the court of France.
Gent. I have been ometimes there.

Hel. I do prefume, Sir, that you are not fallen
From the report that goes upon your goodness;
And therefore, goaded with moft sharp 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

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Gent. Not, indeed.

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

Wid. Lord, how we lofe our pains!

Hel. All's well, that Ends well

yet,

Tho' time seem so adverse, 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 to his 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 speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This I'll do for you..

Hel. And you fhall find yourself to be well thank`d, What-e'er falls more. We must to horse again.

Go, go, provide.

SCENE changes to Roufillon.

Par. 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 difpleasure.

Clo

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(23) But I am now, Sir, muddied in Fortune's Mood, and smell • fomewhat frong of her frong Displeafare.] Fortune's Mood is, without Queftion, good Senfe, and very proper: and yet I verily believe, the Poet wrote as I have reftor'd in the Text;in Fortune's Moat: becaufe the Clown in the very next Speech replies, I will benceforth eat no Fish of Fortune's buttering, and again, when he comes to repeat Parolles's Petition to Lafeu,that bath fall'n into the unclean Fishpond of ber Displeasure, and, as be fays, is muddied withal. And again, Pray you, Sir, ufer

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

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

Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor flink, I will ftop my nofe against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee further.

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

Clo. Foh! pr'ythee, ftand away; a paper from forune's clofe ftool, 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 fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he fays, is muddied withal. Pray you, Sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rafcally knave. (24) I do pity his diftrefs in my fimiles of comfort, and leave him to your Lordship.

Par. My Lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly fcratch'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 fays, of Fortune's firong Displeasure, carries on the fame Image: For as the Meats round old Seats were always replenish'd with Fifh, 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 Lafex- -Fob! pr'ytbee, fland away: A Paper from Fortune's Clofeftool, to give to a Nobleman!

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

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-decu 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 fhall 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 firft, that found

me.

Laf. Was I, infooth? and I was the firft, 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 trum pets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talk of you last night; tho' you are a fool and a knave, you shall ? eat; go to, follow.

S

Par. I praise God for you.

[Exeunt Flourish. Enter King, Countefs, Lafeu, the wa 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

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 understood in one Sense; and that Senfe won't carry Water: i. e. We fuffer'd in our Eftimation by her

Lofe

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