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Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with sweets,
Which they distil now in the curbed time,
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.

What's his will else?
Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the king,
And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
Strengthend with what apology you think
May make it probable need.5

What more commands he? Par. That, having this obtain’d, you presently Attend his further pleasure.

Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will.
Par. I shall report it so.

I pray you.-Come, sirrah. [Exeunt.


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ground alone is very dangerous. In King Henry VIII, we have phraseology not very different:

All-souls day “Is the determin’d respite of my wrongs.” i. e. the day to which my wrongs are respited. Malone.

4 Whose want, and whose delay, &c.] The sweets with which this want is strewed, I suppose, are compliments and professions of kindness. Johnson.

Johnson seems not to have understood this passage; the meaning of which is merely this:-" That the delay of the joys, and the expectation of them, would make them more delightful when they come.” The curbed time, means the time of restraint. Whose want, means the want of which. So, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, Theseus says:

A day or two
• Let us look sadly,-in whose end,

“ The visages of bridegrooms we 'll put on.” M. Mason. The sweets which are distilled, by the restraint said to be imposed on Bertram, from “the want and delay of the great prerogative of love,” are the sweets of expectation Parolles is here speaking of Bertram's feelings during this “curbed time,” not, as Dr. Johnson seems to have thought, of those of Helena. The following lines, in Troilus and Cressida, may prove the best comment on the present passage:

“I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
“ The imaginary relish is so sweet
“ That it enchants my sense. What will it be,
“When that the watery palate tastes indeed
“ Love's thrice-reputed nectar? Death, I fear me,

Swooning destruction;" &c. Malone.
- probable need.) A specious appearance of necessity.




Another Room in the same.

Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted testimony.

Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting..

Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since 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 shall be done, sir. [To Ber. Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? Par. Sir?

Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor.

Ber. Is she gone to the king? [Aside to Par.
Par. She is.
Ber. Will she away to-night?
Par. As you 'll have her.

a bunting ] This bird is mentioned in Lyly's Love's Metamorphosis, 1601: “ – but foresters think all birds to be buntings Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, gives this account of it: “ Terraneola et rubetra, avis alaudæ similis, &c. Dicta terraneola quod non in arboribus, sed in terra versetur et nidificet.” The following proverb is in Ray's Collection :

“ A gosshawk beats not a bunting.Steevens. I took this lark for a bunting.] This is a fine discrimination between the possessor of courage, and him that only has the appearance of it.

The bunting is, in feather, size, and form, so like the sky-lark, as to require nice attention to discover the one from the other; it also ascends and sinks in the air nearly in the same manner: but it has little or no song, which gives estimation to the skylark. 7. Johnson.

Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride, And, ere I do begin,

Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.—God save you captain.

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?

Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leap'd into the custard ; 8 and out of it you 'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord.

Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewel, monsieur: I have spoken bet

? A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner ; but one that lies three-thirds, &c.] So, in Marlowe's King Edward II, 1598:

“ Gav. What art thou?
“2 Poor Man. A traveller.
Gao. Let me see; thou would'st well
“ To wait on my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner-time.

Malone. 8 You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leap'd into the custard;] This odd allusion is not introduced without a view to satire. It was a foolery practised at city entertainments, whilst the jester or zany was in vogue, for him to jump into a large deep custard, set for the purpose, to set on a quantity of barren spectators to laugh, as our poet says in his Hamlet. I do not advance this without some authority; and a quotation from Ben Jonson will very well explain it:

“He may perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner,
“Skip with a rhime o'th' table, from New-nothing,
“ And take his Almain-leap into a custard,
“ Shall make my lady mayoress, and her sisters,
“ Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders.”

Devil's an Ass, Act I, sc. i. Theobald.

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ter of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil.

[Exit. Par. An idle lord, I swear. Ber. I think so. Par. Why, do you not know him?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave
For present parting; only, he desires
Some private speech with you.

I shall obey his will.
You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular: Prepar'd I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:1
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,
Greater than shows itself, at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother:

[Giving a letter. 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so I leave you to your wisdom. Hel.

Sir, I can nothing say, But that I am your most obedient servant.

Ber. Come, come, no more of that.

And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that,

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than you have or will deserve --] The oldest copy erroneously reads-have or will to deserve. Steevens.

Something seems to have been omitted; but I know not how to rectify the passage. Perhaps we should read-than you have qualities or will to deserve. The editor of the second folio reads -than you have or will deserve - Malone.

1 And rather muse, &c.] To muse is to wonder. So, in Macbeth:

"Do not muse at me, my most noble friends.” Steevens.

Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.

Let that go:
My haste is very great: Farewel; hie home.

Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.

Well, what would you say?
Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe;
Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.

What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much :-nothing, in

deed.I would not tell you what I would: my lord-'faith,

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.

Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?-Farewel.3

[Exit HEL.
Go thou toward home; where I will never come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :-
Away, and for our flight.

Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt.


the wealth I owe;] i. e. I own, possess. Steevens. 3 Where are my other men, monsieur ?-Farewel.] In former copies :

Hel. Where are my other men? Monsieur, farewel. What other men is Helen here inquiring after? Or who is she supposed to ask for them? The old Countess, 'tis certain, did not send her to the court without some attendants; but neither the Clown, nor any of her retinue, are now upon the stage: Bertram, observing Helen to linger fondly, and wanting to shift her off, puts on a show of haste, asks Parolles for his servants, and then gives his wife an abrupt dismission. Theobald.


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