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SCENE changes to the Court of France. Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters,
and divers Attendants. H Senoys
King. T Have fought with equal fortune, and con
tinue A braving war.
1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir.
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it,
i Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your Majesty, may plead Por ample credence.
King. He hath arm'd our answer ;
2 Lord. It may well serve
Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. 1 Lord. It is the count Roufillon, my good lord, young Bertram.
King. Youth, thou bear'ft thy father's face.
Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship
First try'd our soldiership: he did look far
say, (3) So like a Courtier, no Contempt or Bitterness
Were in his Pride or Sharpness; if they were,
His Equal bad awak'd tbem..] This Passage seems so very incorre&tly pointed, that the Author's Meaning is lost in the Carelessness. . As the Text and Stops are reform’d, these are most beautiful Lines, and the Sense this He had no “ Contempt or Bitterness; if he had any thing that look'd like “ Pride or Sbarpness, (of which Qualities Contempt and Bit“ terness are the Excesses,) his Equal had awak'd them, not “ his Inferior ; to whom he scorn'd to discover any thing that " bore the Shadow of Pride or Sharpness."
Thall lack you
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
2 Lord. You're loved, Sir; They, that least lend it
first. King: I fill a place, I know't
. How long is’t, count, Since the physician at your father's died ? He was much fam'd.
Ber. Some six months since, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet;
Ber. Thank your Majesty. [Flourish. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Countess's at Rousillon,
Enter Countes, Steward, and Clown. Count: Will now hear; what say you of this gentle.
woman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my pait endeavours; for then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them. Count. What does this knave here ?get you gone,
Sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you, I do not all believe ; 'tis my flowness that I do not, for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.
cle. "Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.
Count. Well, Sir.
Clo. No, Madam. ; 'tis not so well that I am poor, tho' many of the rich are damn'd ; but, if I have your ladyship’s good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own; service is no heritage, and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, 'till I have issue of my body; for they say, bearns are bleffings.
Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
Clo. My poor body, Madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.
Count. Is this all your worship’s reason ?
Clo. Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
Count. May the world know them ?
Clo. I have been, Madam, a wicked creature, as you and all Aer and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.
Count. ?hy marriage. sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, Madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's fake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clo. Y'are Shallow, Madam, in great friends ; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am weary, of ; he that eares my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inne the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge; he, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood ; he, that cherisheth my flesh and. blood, loves my flesh and blood; he, that loves my
flesh and blood, is my friend : ergo, he, that kisses my wife, is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poyfam the papift, howsoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one; they may joul horns together, like any deer i' th’ herd.
Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave?
Clo. A prophet, I, Madam ; and I speak the truth the next way ; “ For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true
“ fhall find; “ Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckow sings
“ by kind, Count. Get you gone, Sir, I'll talk with you more anon.
Stew. May it please you, Madam, that he bid Helen come to you ; of her I am to speak.
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo. "Was this fair face the cause; quoth she, (4)
[Singing. " Why the Grecians facked Troy? * Fond done, fond done ; for Paris, he,
(4) Was this fair Face the Cause, quotb Sbe,
Wby tbe Grecians facked Troy?
Was this King Priam's Joy?] As the Stanza, that foltows, is in alternate Rhyme, and as a Rhyme is here wanting to. Sbe in the first Verse ; 'tis evident, the third Line is wanting. The old Folio's give Us a part of it; but how to supply the loft Part, was the Question. Mr. Rowe has given us the Frage ment honestly, as he found it; but Mr. Pope, rather than to seem founder'd, has sunk it upon Us.
- I communicated to my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton, how I found the Paffage in the old Books ;
[Fond done, done, fond,
Was ibis King Priam's Foy x] And from Him I received that Supplement, which I have given to the Text. And the Hiftorians tell us, it was Paris who was Priam's favourite Son.