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Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a weary of thee, and I tell thee fo before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways, let my horfes be well look'd to, without any tricks.

Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, they fhall be jades' tricks, which are their own right by the law of Nature. [Exit.

Laf. A fhrewd knave, and an (3) unhappy.

Count. So he is. My Lord that's gone, made himfelf much sport out of him; by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his fawcinefs; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.

Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amifs; and I was about to tell you, fince I heard of the good Lady's death, and that my Lord your Son was upon his return home, I mov'd the King my Mafter to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his Majesty, out of a felf-gracious remembrance, did firft propofe; his Highness has promis'd me to do it; and to ftop up the displeasure he hath conceiv'd against your fon, there is no fitter matter. How do's your Ladyfhip like it?

Count. With very much content, my Lord, and I with it happily effected.

Laf. His Highnefs comes poft from Marseilles, of as able a body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceiv'd by him that in fuch intelligence hath feldom fail'd,

Count. It rejoices me, that, I hope, I fhall fee him ere I die. I have letters, that my fon will be here to night I fhall befeech your Lordship to remain with 'till they meet together.



Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might fafely be admitted.

Cont. You need but plead your honourable privilege.

Laf Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.

(3) Unbappy.] That is, mischievousy waggish; unlucky.


Enter Clown.

Clo. O Madam, yonder's my Lord your fon. with a patch of velvet on's face; whether there be a fcar under't, or no, the velvet knows, but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet; his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

Count. A fcar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour. So, belike, is that.

Clo. But it is your (4) carbonado'd face.
Laf. Let us go fee your fon, I pray you;

talk with the young noble foldier.

I long to

Blo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em with delicate fine hats and moft courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.





The Court of France, at Marfeilles.

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with tavo


UT this exceeding pofting 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,

(4) But it is your carbonado'd face.] Mr. Pope reads it carbinado'd, which is right. The joke, fuch as it it is, confifts in the allufion to a wound made with a carabine; arms, which Henry IV. had made famous, by bringing into ufe amongst his horse.



Enter a Gentleman.

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

Gent. And you.

you, Sir.

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 sharp occafions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use 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 store of power you have,
To come into his presence.

Gent. The King's not here.

Hel. Not here, 'Sir?

Gent. Not, indeed.

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

Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains!

Hel. All's well, that ends well yet,

Tho' time feems fo adverfe, and means unfit:
I do befeech whither is he gone?


Gent. Marry, as I take it to Roufillan, Whither I am going.

Hel. I befeech 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 fpeed
(5) Our means will make us means.

(5) Our means will make us means.] Shakespeare delights much in this kind of reduplication, fometimes fo as to obfcure his meaning. Helena fays, they will follow with fuch speed as the means which they have will give them ability to exert.


Gent. This I'll do for you.

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

Go, go, provide.


Changes to Roufillon.


Enter Clown, and Parolles.

Par. Good Mr. Lewatch, give my Lord Lafen this letter; I have ere now, Sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher cloaths (6); but I am now, Sir muddied in fortune's moat, and fmell somewhat ftrong of her ftrong difpleasure.

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 stop your nofe, Sir; I fpeak but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor ftink, I will stop my nose against any man's (7) metaphor. Pr'ythee, getthee further.

(6) In former editions,


-but I am now, Sir, muddied in fortunes Mood, and fmell Somewhat frong of ber ftrong difpleasure.] I believe the poet wrote, in fortune's moat; becaufe the Clown in the very next speech replies, I will benceforth eat no fish of fortune's butt'ring; and again, when he comes to repeat Parolles's petition to Lafeu, that bath fall'n into the unclean fishpond of ber difpleasure, and, as be fays, is muddied witbal. And again, Pray you, Sir, ufe the carp as you may, &c. In all which places, 'tis obvious a moat or pond is the allufion. Befides, Parolles fmelling ftrong, as he fay, of fortune's ftrong difpleafure, carries on the fame image; for as the moats round old feats were always replenish'd with fish, fo the Clown's joke of holding his nofe, we may prefume, proceeded from this, that the privy was always over the moat; and therefore the Clown humorously fays, when Parolles is preffing him to deliver his letter to Lord Lafeu, Fob! pr'ythee, ftand away; a paper from fortune's clofeftool, to give to a Nobleman! WARBURTON.

(7) Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor fink, I will flop my nofe against any man's metaphor.] Nothing could be conceived with greater humour, or juftnefs of fatire, than this fpeech. The ufe of the flinking metaphor is an odious fault, which grave writers often com

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

Clo. Foh! pr'ythee, stand away; a paper from fortune'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 mufk-cat;) that hath fall'n into the unclean fishpond 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 (8). 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 cruelly scratch'd.

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 herself is a good Lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? there's a Quart-decu for you : let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.

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.

mit. It is not uncommon to fee moral declaimers against vice, defcribe her as Hefiod did the fury Triftitia:

Τῆς ἐκ οίνων μύξαι ξέος.

Cicero cautions well

Upon which Longinus justly obferves, that, inftead of giving a terrible image, he has given a very nafty one. against it in his book de Orat. Quoniam bac, fays he, vel fumma laus eft in verbis transferendis ut fenfum feriat id, quod tranflatum fit, fugienda eft omnis turpitudo earum rerum, ad quas eorum animos, qui audiunt trabet fimilitudo. Nolo morte dici Africani caftratam effe rempublicam. Nolo ftercus curiae dici Glauciam. Our poet himself is extremely delicate in this refpect; who, throughout his large writings, if you except a paffage in Hamlet, has fcarce a metaphor that can offend the moft fqueamish reader. WARBURTON.

(8) I pity bis diftrefs in my SMILES of comfort,] We should read, SIMILIES of comfort, fuch as the calling him fortune's cat, carp,




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