-

Par. Well, thou haft a fon fhall take this difgrace off me'; fcurvy, old, filthy, fcurvy Lord! well, I must be patient, there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a Lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of ---- I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again,

Re-enter Lafeu.

Laf. Sirrah, your Lord and Master's married, there's news for you: you have a new mistress.

Par. I molt unfeignedly befeech your Lordship to make fome refervation of your wrongs. He, my good Lord, whom I ferve above, is my master.

Laf. Who? God?

Par. Ay, Sir.

Lef. The devil it is, that's thy mafter. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? daft make hofe of thy fleeves? do other fervants fo? thou wert best fet thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man fhould beat thee. I think, thou waft created for men to breathe themfelves upon thee.

age will give me leave.] Here is a line loft after past; fo that it fhould be diftinguished by a break with afterifks. The very words of the loft line it is impoffible to retrieve; but the fenfe is obvious' enough. For doing I am fa; age has deprived me of much of my force and vigour, yet I have fill enough to fhew the world I can do myfelf right a. I will by flec, in what mation [or in the beft manner] age will give me lave. WARBURTON. This fulpicion of a chafm

Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my Lord. Laf. Go to, Sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more fawcy with lords and honourable perfonages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commiffion. You are not worth another word, elfe I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Bertram.

Par. Good, very good, it is fo then.-Good, very good, let it be conceal'd a while.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Par. What is the matter, fweet heart?

Ber. Although before the folemn Priest I've sworn, I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, fweet heart?

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me: I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot: to th' wars.

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is, I know not yet.

Por. Ay, that would be known: to th' wars, my boy, to th' wars.

He wears his honour in a box, unfeen,
That hugs his kickfy-wickfy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which fhould fuftain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery fteed: to other regions
France is a stable, we that dwell in't jades,
Therefore to th' war.

Ber. It fhall be fo, I'll fend her to my house,

& In former copies:

heraldry.] Sir Tho. Hanmer re

than the commiffion of fored it. your birth and virtue gives you

Acquaint

Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the King
That which I durft not speak. His prefent gift
Shall furnish me to thofe Italian fields,

Where noble fellows ftrike. War is no ftrife
To the dark houfe, and the detefted wife.

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art fure?
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
I'll fend her ftraight away: to-morrow

I'll to the wars, the to her fingle forrow.

Par. Why, thefe balls bound, there's noise in it.— 'Tis hard;

A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd:
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go,
The King has done you wrong: but, hufh! 'tis fo.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.

Enter Helena and Clown.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is fhe well? Clo. She is not well, but yet fhe has her health; fhe's verry merry, but yet fhe is not well: but, thanks be given, fhe's very well, and wants nothing i'th' world; but yet fhe is not well.

Hel. If he be very well, what does fhe ail, that fhe's not very well?

Clo. Truly, he's very well, indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that he's not in heav'n, whither God fend her quickly; the other, that she's in earth, from whence God fend her quickly!

To the dark boufe,-] The dark boufe is a house made gloomy by difcontent. Milon fays of death and the king of Hell pre

paring to combat,

So frown'd the mighty comba-
tants, that Hell
Grew darker at their frown,
Enter

Enter Parolles.

Par. Blefs you, my fortunate Lady!

Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortune.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them ftill. O, my knave, how does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles and I her mony, I would, fhe did, as you say.

Par. Why, I fay nothing.

Clo. Marry, you are the wifer 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 faid, Sir, before a knave th'art a knave; that's, before me th'art a knaye: 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 fearch, 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 bufinefs calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,

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

Whole want, and whofe delay, ' is frew'd with fweets Which they diftil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,

And pleafure drown the brim.

Hel. What's his will elfe?

Par. That you will take your inftant leave o'th' King, And make this hafte as your own good proceeding; Strengthen'd with what apology, you think, May make it probable need 2.

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 fhall report it fo.

Hel. I pray you-Come, Sirrah.

SCENE X.

Enter Lafeu and Bertram.

[Exit Parolles.

To Clown.

[Exeunt.

Laf. But, I hope, your Lordship thinks not him a foldier.

Ber. Yes, my Lord, and of very valiant approof.
Lef. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted teftimony.

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

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

Lef. I have then finned against his experience, and tranfgrefs'd against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, fince I cannot yet find in my heart to repent: here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will purfue the amity.

2

Enter Parolles.

Par. Thefe things fhall be done, Sir.
Laf. I pray you, Sir, who's his taylor?

troballe need.] A fpecious appearance of neceflity.