Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

King. Madam, I will, if fuddenly I may.

Prin. You will the fooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay.
Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Rofa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Biron. I know, you did.

Rofa. How needless was it then to ask the question?
Biron. You must not be fo quick.

Rofa.'Tis long of you, that fpur me with fuch questions.
Biron. Your wit's too hot, it fpeeds too fast, 'twill tire.
Rofa. Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o'day?

Rofa. The hour that fools should ask.
Biron. Now fair befall your mask !
Rofa. Fair fall the face it covers!
Biron. And fend you many lovers!
Rofa. Amen, fo you be none !

Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.

King. Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but th' one half of an intire fum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.

But say, that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv'd that fum; yet there remains unpaid

A hundred thousand more; in furety of the which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,

Although not valu'd to the money's worth:
If then the King your father will restore
But that one half which is unfatisfy'd,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his Majefty:
But that, it seem, he little purposeth
For here he doth demand to have repaid

An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, (9)

(9)

-And not demands

One payment of an hundred thousand crowns,

To bave bis title live in Aquitain.]

On

The old books concur in this reading, and Mr. Pope has embraced it; tho', as I conceive, it is ftark nonfenfe, and repugnant to the circumftance fuppos'd by our poet. I have, by reforming the pointing,

and

On payment of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain ;

Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain fo gelded as it is.

Dear Princefs, were not his requests so far
From reafon's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding 'gainst fome reafon in my breast;
And go well fatisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name,

In fo unfeeming to confefs receipt

Of that, which hath so faithfully been paid.
King. I do proteft, I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.

Prin. We arreft your word :

Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For fuch a fum, from fpecial officers
Of Charles his father.

King. Satisfy me fo.

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, Where that and other fpecialties are bound: To-morrow you fhall have a fight of them.

King. It fhall fuffice me; at which interview,
All liberal reafon I will yield unto :

Mean time, receive fuch welcome at my hand,
As honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princefs, in my gates;
But here, without, you shall be fo receiv'd,

and throwing out à fingle letter, reftor'd, I believe the genuine fenfe of the paffage. Aquitain was pledg'd, it feems, to Navarre's father for 200000 crowns. The French King pretends to have paid one moiety of this debt, (which Navarre knows nothing of) but demands this moiety back again: instead whereof (fays Navarre) he fhould rather pay the remaining moiety, and demand to have Aquitain redeliver'd up to him. This is plain and easy reasoning upon the fact fuppos'd; and Navarre declares, he had rather receive the refidue of his debt, than detain the province mortgag'd for security

of it.

As

As you fhall deem yourfelf lodg'd in my heart,
Tho' fo deny'd fair harbour in my house:
Your own good thoughts excufe me, and farewell;
To-morrow we shall vifit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair defires confort your Grace! King. Thy own with wifh I thee, in every place. [Exit: Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. (10) Rofa. I pray you, do my commendations;

I would be glad to fee it.

Biron. I would, you heard it

Rofa. Is the fool fick?

Biron. Sick at the heart?

Rofa. Alack, let it blood.

groan.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Rofa. My phyfick fays ay.

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?

Rofa. No, poynt, with my knife.

Biron. Now God fave thy life!

Roja. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.

[Exit.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what Lady is that tame?
Boyet. The heir of Alanfon, Rofaline her name.
Dum. A gallant Lady; Monfieur, fare you well. [Exit.
Long. I beseech you, a word: what is fhe in white ?
Boyet. A woman fometimes, if you faw her in the light.
Long. Perchance, light in the light; I defire her name.
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to defire That
were a fhame.

Long. Pray you, Sir, whofe daughter?

(10) I have made it a rule throughout this edition, to replace all thofe paffages, which Mr. Pope in his impreffions thought fit to degrade. As we have no authority to call them in question for not being genuine; I confefs, as an editor, I thought I had no authority to difplace them. Tho', I muft own freely at the fame time, there are fome scenes (particularly in this play;) fo very mean and contemptible, that one would heartily wish for the liberty of expunging them. Whether they were really written by our author, whether he penn'd them in his boyish age, or whether he purposely comply'd with the prevailing vice of the times, when Puns, Conundrum, and quibbling conceits were as much in vogue, as Grimace and Arlequi mades are at this wife period, I dare not take upon me to determine. VOL. II. Boyet.

I

Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. Long. God's blefling on your beard! Boyet. Good Sir, be not offended. She is an heir of Faulconbridge.

Long. Nay, my choler is ended: She is a moft sweet Lady.

Boyet. Not unlike, Sir; that may be. [Exit Long. Biron. What's her name in the cap?

Boyet. Catharine, by good hap,

Biron. Is the wedded or no?

Bayet. To her will, Sir, or fo.

Biron. You are welcome, Sir: adieu.

Boyet. Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you.

Mar. That laft is Biron, the

[Exit. Biron.

merry mad

cap Lord;

Not a word with him but a jest.
Boyet. And every jeft but a word.

Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.

Boyet. And wherefore not fhips?

No fheep, (fweet lamb) unless we feed on your lips. Mar. You sheep, and I pafture; fhall that finish the jeft? Boyet. So you grant pafture for me.

Mar. Not fo, gentle beaft;

My lips are no common, though feveral they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?

Mar. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree. This civil war of wits were much better us'd

On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abus'd. Boyet. If my obfervation, (which very seldom lies) By the heart's ftill rhetorick, difclos'd with eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Prin. With what?

Boyet. With that which we lovers intitle affected.
Prin. Your reafon?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviour did make her retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough defire:
His heart, like an agat with your print impreffed,

Proud

Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not fee,
Did stumble with hafte in his eye-fight to be;
All fenfes to that fenfe did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair ;
Methought, all his fenfes were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in chrystal for some Prince to buy ;

Who tendring their own worth, from whence they were glaft,

Did point out to buy them, along as you past.
His face's own margent did quote fuch amazes,
That all eyes faw his eyes inchanted with gazes :
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,

An you give him for my fake but one loving kifs.
Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is difpos'd.
Boyet. But to fpeak that in words, which his eye
hath difclos'd:

I only have had a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Rofa. Thou art an old love-monger, and fpeakest kilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. Rofa. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?

Mar. No.

Boyet. What then, do you fee?

Rofa. Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet. You are too hard for me. (11)

[Exeunt. SCENE.

(11) Boyet. You are too hard for me.] Here, in all the books, the 2d Act is made to end: but in my opinion very mistakenly. I have ventur'd to vary the regulation of the four last Acts from the printed copies, for thefe reafons. Hitherto, the 2d Act has been of the extent of 7 pages; the 3d but of 5; and the fifth of no less than 29. And this difproportion of length has crouded too many incidents into fome Acts, and left the others quite barren. I have now reduced them into a much better equality; and distributed the business likewife (fuch as it is,) into a more uniform caft. The plot now I es thus. In the first A&t, Navarre and his companions fequefter themelves, by oath, for three years from conversation, women, feasting, &c.

[blocks in formation]
« PredošláPokračovať »