Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing.

Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave⚫ this had been truth, sir

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.

Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter.

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed."—
Madam, my lord will go away to-night;
A very serious business calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,

Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge;
But puts it off by a compell'd restraint;

Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,

And pleasure drown the brim.

Hel. What's his will else?

Par. That you will take your instant leave o' th' king, And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strengthen'd with what apology you think

May make it probable need.'

Hel. 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.

Hel. I pray you.-Come, sirrah.

SCENE V.

[Exeunt.

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.

[9] An allusion, perhaps to the old saying-" Better fed than taught;" to which the Clown has himself alluded in a preceding scene:-" I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught." RITSON.

[1] A specious appearance of necessity

JOHNSON.

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.
Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor?

Par. Sir?

[TO BERT.

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?

Par. She is.

Ber. Will she away to-night?

Par. As you'll have her.

[Aside to PAR.

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 leaped into the custard ;3 and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.

[2] 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 sky-lark. J. JOHNSON.

[3] 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, THEOBALD.

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.-Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better 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.

Enter HELEna.

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.

Ber. 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:
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.

Hel. And ever shall

With true observance seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that go:

My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home.

Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.

Ber. 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.

Ber. What would you have?

Hel Something; and scarce so much :-nothing, indeed.

I would not tell you what I would: my lord-'faith, yes ;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 ?-Farewell. [Exit HELENA Go thou toward home; where I will never come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :Away, and for our flight.

Par. Bravely, coragio!

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Florence. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attended; two French Lords, and others.

Duke.

So that, from point to point, now have you heard

The fundamental reasons of this war;

Whose great decision hath much blood let forth,
And more thirsts after.

1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel

Upon your grace's part; black and fearful

On the opposer.

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom

Against our borrowing prayers.

2 Lord. Good my lord,

The reasons of our state I cannot yield,
But like a common and an outward man,*
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
[4] i. e. One not in the secret of affairs. WARBURTON.
So inward is familiar, admitted to secrets. JOHNSON.

Say what I think of it; since I have found
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.

Duke. Be it his pleasure.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature," That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physic.

Duke. Welcome shall they be ;

And all the honours, that can fly from us,

Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field.

[Flourish. Exeunt

SCENE II.

Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess and Clown.

Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that he comes not along with her.

Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you ?

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song.

Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he [Opening a letter.

means to come.

Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' th' country are nothing like your old ling, and your Isbels o' th' court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

Count. What have we here?
Clo. E'en that you have there.

[Exit.

Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it,

[5] i. e. as we say at present, our young fellows. STEEVENS.

[6] The tops of the boots, in our author's time, turned down, and hung loosely over the leg. The folding is what the Clown means by the ruff. Ben Jonson calls it ruffle; and perhaps it should be so here. "Not having leisure to put off my silver spurs, one of the rowels catch'd hold of the ruffle of my boot." Every Man out of his Humour. Act IV. sc. vi. WHALLEY.