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Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.1

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still.-0, my knave! How does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, would she did as you say. Par. Why, I say nothing.

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.2 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 compellid restraint;3



- fortunes.] Old copy-fortune. Corrected by Mr. SteeMalone.

and well fed.] 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.

3 But puts it off by a compelld restraint ;] The old copy reads to a compellid restraint. Steevens.

The editor of the third folio reads-by a compelld restraint; and the alteration has been adopted by the modern editors; perhaps without necessity. Our poet might have meant, in his usual licentious manner, that Bertram puts off the completion of his wishes to a future day, till which he is compelled to restrain his desires. This, it must be confessed, is very harsh; but our author is often so licentious in his phraseology, that change on that

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Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with sweets,
Which they distil now in the curbed time, 4
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.

What's his will else?
Par. That you will take your instant leave o'the king,
And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
Strengthen’d with what apology you think
May make it probable need.5

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.

I pray you. Come, sirrah. [Ereunt.

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ground alone is very dangerous. In King Henry VIII, we have a phraseology not very different:

All-souls day “ Is the determin’d respite of my wrong's.” i. e. the day to which my wrongs are respited. Malone.

4 Whose want, and whose delay, &c.] The sweets with which this want is strewed, I suppose, are compliments and professions of kindness. Johnson.

Johnson seems not to have understood this passage; the meaning of which is merely this:“ That the delay of the joys, and the expectation of them, would make them more delightful when they come.” The curbed time, means the time of restraint. Whose want, means the want of which. So, in The Two Noble Kinsmen, Theseus says:

A day or two
“Let us look gadly,--in whose end,

“ The visages of bridegrooms we 'll put on.” M. Mason. The sweets which are distilled, by the restraint said to be imposed on Bertram, from “the want and delay of the great prerogative of love,” are the sweets of expectation. Parolles is here speaking of Bertram's feelings during this “curbed time,” not, as Dr. Johnson seems to have thought, of those of Helena. The following lines, in Troilus and Cressida, may prove the best comment on the present passage:

“I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
“ The imaginary relish is so sweet
- That it enchants my sense. What will it be,
“ When that the watery palate tastes indeed
“ Love's thrice-reputed nectar? Death, I fear me,
“Swooning destruction;" &c. Malone.
- probable need.] A specious appearance of necessity.



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.
Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted testimony.
Laf. Then


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. [To BER, Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? Par. Sir?

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? [ Aside to Par.
Par. She is.
Ber. Will she away to-night?
Par. As you 'll have her.

a bunting. ] This bird is mentioned in Lyly's Love's Metamorphosis, 1801: “— - but foresters think all birds to be buntings." Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, gives this account of it: “Terraneola et rubetra, avis alauda similis, &c. Dicta terraneola quod non in arboribus, sed in terra versetur et nidificet.” The following proverb is in Ray's Collection: "A gosshawk beats not a bunting.Steevens.

I took this lark for a bunting.] This is a fine discrimination between the possessor '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. 7. Fohnson.

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 leap'd into the custard;8 and out of it you 'll run again, rather than suffer question for


residence. 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.-Farewel, monsieur: I have spoken bet

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7 A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds, &c.] So, in Marlowe's King Edward II, 1598:

“ Gav. What art thou?
“ 2 Poor Man. A traveller.
Gav. Let me see; thou would'st well
“ To wait on my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner-time."

Malone. 8 You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leap'd into the custard ;] 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. I do not advance this without some authority; and a quotation from Ben Jonson will very well explain it:

“He may perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner,

Skip with a rhime o' th' table, from New-nothing,
“ And take his Almain-leap into a custard,
“Shall make my lady mayoress, and her sisters,
“ Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders."

Devil's an Ass, Act I, sc.i. Theobalu

ter 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.

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king, and have procurd his leave
For present parting; only, he desires
Some private speech with you.

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:1
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.

And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that,

- than you have or will deserve --] The oldest copy erro. neously reads--have or will to deserve. Steevens.

Something seems to have been omitted; but I know not how to rectify the passage. Perhaps we should read-than you have qualities or will to deserve. The editor of the second folio reads -than


have or will deserve Malone. 1 And rather muse, &c.] To muse is to wonder. So, in Macbeth:

“Do not muse at me, my most noble friends." Steevens.

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