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SCENE, the Court of France, at Marseilles.

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with twe Attendants.



UT this exceeding posting 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,

Enter a Gentleman..

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

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Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have feen' 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 most sharp occafions
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The ufe 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 prefence.

Gent. The King's not here.
Hel. Not here, Sir?

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Gent. Not, indeed.

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

Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains!
Hel. All's well, that ends well yet,
Tho' time seem so adverse, and means unfit:
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gen. Marry, as I take it, to Roufillon,
Whither I'm going.

Hel. I beseech you, Sir,

Since you are like to see 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 speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This I'll do for you.

Hel. And you fhall find your felf to be well thank'd, What-e'er falls more. We must to horse again. Go, go, provide.



SCENE changes to Roufillon.

Enter Clown, and Parolles.


OOD Mr. Levatch, give my Lord Lafeu this letter; I have ere now, Sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher cloaths; (23) but I am now, Sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.


(23) But I am now, Sir, muddied in Fortune's Mood, and smell fomewhat strong of her ftrong Displeasure.] Fortune's Mood is, without Question, good Senfe, and very proper: and yet I verily believe, the Poet wrote as I have reftor'd in the Text;-in Fortune's Moat: because the Clown in the very next Speech replies, I will henceforth eat no Fish of Fortune's buttering, and again, when he comes to repeat Parelles's Petition to Lafeu,—— that hath fall'n into the unclean Fishpond of her Difpleasure, and, as he fays, is muddied withal. And again, Pray you, Sir, use


Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but fluttish, if it fmell fo ftrongly as thou fpeak'ft of: I will henceforth cat no fish of fortune's butt'ring. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nofe, Sir; I fpake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor ftink, I will stop my nose against any man's metaphor. Pry'thee, get thee further.

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

Clo. Foh! pr'ythee, ftand away; a paper from fortune's close-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 musk-cat ;) that hath fall'n into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, 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. (24) 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.

the Carp as you may, &c. In all which Places, 'tis obvious, a Moat, or Pond, is the Allufion. Befides, Parolles fmelling strong, as he fays, of Fortune's ftrong Displeasure, carries on the fame Image: For as the Moats round old Seats were always replenish'd with Fish, so the Clown's joke of holding his Nose, we may prefume, proceeded from This- -because la Chambre basse was always over the Moat: and therefore the Clown humourously fays, when Parolles is preffing him to deliver his Letter to Lord Lafen. -Foh! pr'ythee, stand away: A Paper from Fortune's Closeftool, to give to a Nobleman!

(24) I do pity his Distress in my Smiles of Comfort,] This very humourous Paffage my Friend Mr. Warburton rescued from Nonfenfe moft happily, by the Infertion of a single Letter, in the Manner I have reform'd the Text. Thefe Similies of Comfort are ironically meant by the Clown; as much as to fay, you may perceive, how much I think he deserves Comfort, by my calling him Fortune's Cats Carp, rafcally Knave, &c.


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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 her felf is a good Lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? there's a Quart-d'ecu for you: let the juftices make you and fortune friends; I am for other bufinefs.

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.

Cox' my

Par. My name, my good Lord, is Parolles.
Laf. You beg more than one word then.
paffion! give me your hand: how does your drum?
Par. O my good lord, you were the first, that found


Laf. Was I, infooth ? and I was the first, that loft thee.

Par. It lyes in you, my Lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! doft thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the Devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Sound Trumpets.] The King's coming, I know, by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talk of you laft night; tho' you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow.

Par. I praife God for you.


Flourish. Enter King, Countefs, Lafeu, the two
French Lords, with attendants.

King. We loft a jewel of her, (25) our esteem
Was made much poorer by it; but your fon,



our Efteem

Was made much poorer by it :] What's the Meaning of the King's Efteem being made poorer by the Loss of Helen? 1 think, it can only be understood in one Sense; and that Sense won't carry Water; i. e. We fuffer'd in our Eftimation by her


As mad in folly, lack'd the fenfe to know.
Her eftimation home.

Count. 'Tis paft, my Liege;

And I beseech your Majefty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i'th' blade of youth,
When oil and fire, too ftrong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.

King. My honour'd Lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Tho' my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to fhoot.

Laf. This I muft say,

But first I beg my pardon; the young Lord
Did to his Majefty, his mother, and his lady,
Offence of mighty note; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all. He loft a wife,
Whose beauty did aftonish the furvey

Of richeft eyes; whofe words all ears took captive;
Whofe dear perfection, hearts, that scorn'd to serve,
Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praifing what is loft,.

Makes the remembrance dear. Well

call him


We're reconcil'd, and the first view fhall kill
All repetition let him not ask our pardon.
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
Th' incenfing relicks of it, Let him approach,
A ftranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent. I fhall, my Liege.

Lofs. But how fo. Did the King contribute to her Misfortunes? Nothing like it. Or did he not do all in his Power to prevent them? Yes; he married Bertram to her. We muft . certainly read therefore;

We lost a Jewel of her; our Estate
Was made much poorer by it:

That's the certain Confequence of any one's lofing a Jewel, for their Eftate to be made proportionably poorer according to the Value of the Lofs.

Mr. Warburton.

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