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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 business.

Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one fingle word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't, fave your word.

Par. My name, my good Lord, is Parolles.

Laf. You beg more than one word then. Cox' my paffion! give me your hand: how does your drum?

Par. O my good lord, you were the first, that found

me.

Laf. Was I, insooth? 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! dost 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 last night; tho you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow.

Par. I praise God for you,

[Exeunt.

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

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

(25)

our Esteem

As

Was made much poorer by it: -) What's the Meaning of the King's Esteem being made poorer by the Lofs of Helen? 1 think, it can only be understood in one Sense; and that Sense won't carry Water: i. e. We suffer'd in our Estimation by her

Lofs

As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

Count. 'Tis paft, my Liege;
And I beseech your Majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i'th' blade of youth,
When oil and fire, too strong 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 shoot.

Laf. This I must say,

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

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;
Whose dear perfection, hearts, that scorn'd to serve,
Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praising what is loft,

Makes the remembrance dear. Well call him

hither;

We're reconcil'd, and the first view shall 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 stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent. I shall, my Liege.

Loss. But how to? 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 must certainly read therefore;

We lost a Jewel of her; our Estate

Was made much poorer by it:

That's the certain Consequence of any one's losing a Jewel,

for their Estate to be made proportionably poorer according

to the Value of the Loss.

Mr. Warburton.

King. What says he to your daughter? Have you

spoke ?

Laf. All, that he is, hath reference to your Highness. King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters

sent me,

That fet him high in fame.

Enter Bertram.

Laf. He looks well on't.

King. I'm not a day of season,

For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail
In me at once; but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth,
The time is fair again.

Ber. My high repented blames,

Dear Sovereign, pardon to me.
King. All is whole,

Not one word more of the consumed time,
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this Lord ?

Ber. Admiringly, my Liege. At first
I ftuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stoll'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object: thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have loft, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King. Well excus'd:

That thou do'st love her, strikes some scores away From the great 'compt; but love, that comes too late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,

To the great fender turns a fowre offence,

Crying,

Crying, that's good that is gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of ferious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave.
Oft our displeasures, to our selves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and, after, weep their dust:
Our own love, waking, cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate fleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell; and now, forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin,
The main consents are had, and here we'll stay
To fee our widower's second marriage-day:

Count. (25) Which better than the first, O dear

heav'n, bless,

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!

Laf. Come on, my fon, in whom my house's name
Must be digested: give a favour from you
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. By my old beard,
And ev'ry hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
Was a fweet creature: fuch a ring as this,

The last that e'er she took her leave at court,
I faw upon her finger.

Ber. Her's it was not.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it: For mine eye,

While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.
This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
I bad her, if her fortunes ever stood

Neceffitied to help, that by this token
I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her
Of what should stead her moft?

(25) Which better than the first, O dear Heav'n, bless,

Or, e'er they meet, in me, O Nature, cease!] I have ventur'd, against the Authority of the printed Copies, to prefix the Countess's Name to these two Lines. The King appears, indeed, to be a Favourer of Bertram: but if Bertram should make a bad Husband the second Time, why should it give the King such mortal Pangs? A fond and disappointed Mother might reasonably not defire to live to see such a Day: and from her the Wish of dying, rather than to behold it, comes with Propriety.

Ber.

Ber. My gracious Sovereign,

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,

The ring was never her's.

Count. Son, on my life,

I've seen her wear it, and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.

Laf. I'm fure, I saw her wear it.

Ber. You are deceiv'd, my Lord, she never saw it; In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: (26) Noble she was, and thought I stood ungag'd; but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceast In heavy fatisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King. Plutus himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you: then if you know,
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to furety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
(Where you have never come) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber. She never faw it.

(26)

noble She was, and thought

1 stood engag'd;-) I don't understand this Reading; if we are to understand, that She thought Bertram engag'd to her in Affection, infnar'd by her Charms, this Meaning is too obscurely express'd. The Context rather makes me believe, that the Poet wrote,

-noble She was, and thought

I stood ungag'd;

i, e, unengag'd: neither my Heart, nor Person, dispos'd of.

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