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SCENE changes to the Court of France.
Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters,
and divers Attendants. .
, tinue A braving war.
1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir.
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it,
i Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your Majesty, may plead For ample credence.
King. He hath arm'd our answer ;
2 Lord. It may well serve
Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. 1 Lord. It is the count Roufillon, my good lord, young Bertram.
King. Youth, thou bear'ft thy father's face. Frank nature, rather curious than in halle, 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 Majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal foundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship
First try'd our foldiership: he did look far
say, (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 Passage seems so very incorrectly pointed, that the Author's Meaning is loft in the Carelessness. As the Text and Stops are reform'd, these are most beautiful Lines, and the Sense this - He had no “ Contempt or Bitterness; if he had any thing that look'd like “ Pride or Sbarpness, (of which Qualities Contempt and Bit" terness are the Excelles,) his Equal had awak'd them, not “ his Inferior ; to whom he scorn'd to discover any thing that " bore the Shadow of Pride' or Sharpness." Mr. Warburton.
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
2 Lord. You're loved, Sir; They, that least lend it
shall lack you first. King: I fill a place, I know't. How long is’t, count, Since the physician at your father's died ? He was much fam'd.
Ber. Some six months since, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet ; Lend me an arm ;
rest have worn me out.
Ber. Thank your Majesty. [Flourish. [Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Countess's at Rousillon.
Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. Count: Will now hear; what say you of this gentle.
woman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your con: tent, I wish might be found in the calendar of my pait endeavours; for then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, 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 such knaveries yours..
cle. "Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.
Count. Well, Sir.
Clo. No, Madam. ; 'tis not so well that I am poor, cho' many of the rich are damn'd; but, if I have your ladyship’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. In Isbel's case, and mine own; service is no heritage, and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, 'till I have issue of my body; for they say, bearns are bleffings.
Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
Cl.. My poor body, Madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.
Count. Is this all your worship’s reason ?
Clo. Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
Count. May the world know them ?
Clo. I have been, Madam, a wicked creature, as you and all Aesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.
Count. Thy marriage, sooner 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 fallow, Madam, in great friends ; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am weary of; he that eares my land, spares 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 kisses 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 papift, howsoe'er their hearts are sever'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 speak the truth the next way; “ For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true
« Ihall find; “ Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckow sings
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 speak.
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo. “ Was this fair face the cause; quoth the, (4)
[Singing. “ Why the Grecians facked Troy? * Fond done, fond done for Paris, he,
(4) Was this fair Face the Cause, quotb Sbe,
Wby tbe Grecians facked Troy?
Was this King Priam's yoy] As che Stanza, that follows, is in alternate Rhyme, and as a Rhyme is here wanting to Sbe in the first Verse ; '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 Frage ment honestly, as he found it: but Mr. Pope, rather than to seem founder'd, has sunk it upon Us. - I communicated to my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton, how I found the Passage in the old Books ;
[Fond done, done, fond,
Was ibis 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,