Which should fuftain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery fteed: To other regions!
France is a ftable; we that dwell in't, jades;
Therefore, to the war!

Ber. It fhall be fo; I'll fend her to my house,
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 those Italian fields,

Where noble fellows ftrike: War is no ftrife
To the dark house, 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, fhe to her fingle forrow.

Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noife 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

8

Enter Helena and Clown.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly; Is the well?
Clo. She is not well; but yet fhe has her health:

To the dark houfe,-] The dark houfe is a houfe made gloomy by difcontent. Milton fays of death and the king of hell preparing

to combat:

"So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell
"Grew darker at their frown." JOHNSON.

Perhaps this is the fame thought we meet with in K. Henry IV. only more folemnly exprefs'd:

66

he's as tedious

“As is a tired horse, a railing wife,
“Worse than a fmoaky houfe.'

The old copy reads - detected wife. STEEVENS.

fhe's

fhe's very merry; but yet fhe's not well: but, thanks be given, fhe's very well, and wants nothing i'the world; but yet she is not well.

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

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

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God. fend her quickly! the other, that fhe's in earth, from whence God fend her quickly!

Enter Parolles.

Par. Blefs you, my fortunate lady!

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

Par. You have 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 money, 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 fhakes out his mafter's undoing: To fay 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.

1

Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You fhould have faid, fir, before a knave, thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, fir.

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.

Clo. Did you find me in yourfelf, fir? or were you taught to find me? The fearch, fir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleafure, and the increafe of laughter.

F 3

Par.

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed,-
Madam, my lord will go away to-night;
A very ferious bufinefs calls on him.
The great prerogative and right of love,

Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknow ledge;

But puts it off by a compell'd reftraint;

Whose want, and whofe delay, is ftrew'd with sweets,
Which they diftil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.

Hel. What's his will elfe?

Par. That you will take your inftant leave o'the king,

And make this hafte as your own good proceeding,
Strengthen'd with what apology you think,
May make it probable need '.

Hel. What more commands he?

Par. That, having this obtain'd, you prefently

Attend his further pleasure.

Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will,

Par. I fhall report it fo.

Hel. I pray you.-Come, firrah.

SCENE

Exit Parolles,

[To the Clown.

[Exeunt.

V.

Enter Lafeu and Bertram.

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

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

Whofe want, and whofe delay, &c.] The fweets with which this want are firewed, I fuppofe, are compliments and profeffions of kindness. JOHNSON.

probable need.] A fpecious appearance of neceffity.

JOHNSON.

Laf.

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

Laf. Then

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

Laf. 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.

Enter Parolles.

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

Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, fir; he, fir, is a good workman, a very good taylor.

Ber. Is the gone to the king?

Par. She is.

Ber. Will fhe away to-night?

Par. As you'll have her.

[Afide to Parolles.

Ber. I have writ my letters, cafketed my treafure, Given order for our horfes; and to-night,

When I should take poffeffion of the bride,-
And, ere I do begin,

Laf. A good traveller is fomething at the latterend of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, fhould be once heard, and thrice beaten. fave you, captain.

God

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monfieur ?

2-a bunting.] This bird is mentioned in Lylly's Love's Metamorphofis, 1601: " -but forcfters think all birds to be buntings." Barrett's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, gives this account of it: "Terraneola et rubetra, avis alaudæ fimilis, &c. Dicta terraneola quod non in arboribus, fed in terra verfetur et nidificet." The following proverb is in Ray's Collection: "A gofshawk beats not at a bunting." STEEVENS.

Par. I know not how I have deferv'd to run into my lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and fpurs and all, like him that leapt into the cuftard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than fuffer queftion for your refidence.

Ber. It may be, you have miftaken him, my lord. Laf. And fhall do fo ever, though I took him at's prayers. Fare you well, my lord: and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; the foul of this man is his clothes: truft him not in matter of heavy confequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell, monfieur: I have fpoken better of you, than you have or will deferve at my hand; but we must do good against èvil. [Exit,

Par. An idle lord, I fwear.

Ber. I think fo.

Par. Why, do you not know him?

Ber. Yes, I know him well; and common fpeech Gives him a worthy pafs.

Here comes my clog.

Enter Helena.

Hel. I have, fir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave

3 You have made shift to run into't, boots and fpurs and all, like him that leapt into the custard;] This odd allufion is not introduc'd without a view to fatire. It was a foolery practifed at city entertainments, whilst the jefter or zany was in vogue, for him to jump into a large deep custard, fet for the purpofe, to fet on a quantity of barren Spectators to laugh, as our poet fays in his Hamlet. I do not advance this without fome authority; and a quotation from Ben Jonfon will very well explain it :

"He may perhaps, in tail of a sheriff's dinner

"Skip with a rhime o' th' table, from New-nothing,
"And take his Almaine leap into a custard,

"snall make my lady mayorefs, and her fifters,

Laugh all their hoods over their fhoulders."

Devil's an Afs, act I. fc. i. THEOBALD.

For