forth eat no fish of fortune's buttering.

allow the wind.1

Pr'ythee,

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee further.

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh, pr'ythee, stand away. A paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.

Enter LAFEU.

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of 2 comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you. Let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.

Par. I beseech your honor to hear me one single word.

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

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

Laf. You beg more than one word then.3—Cox' my passion! give me your hand.-How does your drum?

1 i. e. stand to the leeward of me.

2 Warburton says we should read, "similes of comfort," such as calling him fortune's cat, carp, &c.

3 A quibble is intended on the word Parolles, which, in French, signifies words.

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

me.

Laf.

Was 1, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

Par. It lies 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. [Trumpets sound.] The king's coming, I know by his trumpets.-Sirrah, inquire further after me: I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow.

Par. I praise God for you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same.

Palace.

A Room in the Countess's Flourish.

Enter King, Countess, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son,

As mad in folly, lacked the sense to know

Her estimation home.2

Count.

'Tis past, my liege: And I beseech your majesty to make it

Natural rebellion, done i'the blade of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.

King.

My honored lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all;

Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watched the time to shoot.

Laf.

This I must say,—

1 i. e. in losing her we lost a large portion of our esteem, which she possessed.

2 Completely, in its full extent.

3 Theobald proposes to read blaze.

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 astonish the survey

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorned to serve, Humbly called mistress.

King.

Praising what is lost,

Well, call him

Makes the remembrance dear.

hither

We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill
All repetition.2-Let him not ask our pardon:
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury

The incensing relics of it. Let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent.

I shall, my liege.
[Exit Gentleman.

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 set him high in fame.

Laf.

Enter BERTRAM.

He looks well on't.

3

King. I am not a day of season,3
For thou mayst see a sunshine 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.

1 So in As You Like It.—to have "seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands."

2 i. e. the first interview shall put an end to all recollection of the past. 3 i. e. a seasonable day: a mixture of sunshine and hail, of winter and summer, is unseasonable.

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
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can affect them. You remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admirably, my liege: at first

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue;
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warped the line of every other favor;
Scorned a fair color, or expressed it stolen ;
Extended or contracted all proportions

To a most hideous object. Thence it came,
That she, whom all men praised, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King.

Well excused:

That thou didst 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 sender turns a sour offence,

Crying, that's good that's gone. Our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave.
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust.
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.1
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 see our widower's second marriage-day.

1 This obscure couplet seems to mean, that "Our love awaking to the worth of the lost object, too late laments; our shameful hate or dislike having slept out the period when our fault was remediable."

Count. Which better than the first, O dear Heaven,

bless!

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

Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favor from you, To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come.-By my old beard, And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this, The last that e'er I took her leave at court,' I saw upon her finger.

Ber.

Hers it was not.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fastened to't.—

This ring was mine, and, when I gave it Helen,
I bade her, if her fortune ever stood

Necessitied to help, that by this token

I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her Of what should stead her most?

My gracious sovereign,

Ber.
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.

Count.

Son, on my life,

I have seen her wear it; and she reckoned it
At her life's rate.

Laf.

I am sure I saw her wear it. Ber. You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it. In Florence was it from a casement thrown me Wrapped in a paper, which contained the name Of her that threw it; noble she was, and thought I stood ingaged; 2 but when I had subscribed3 To mine own fortune, and informed her fully, I could not answer in that course of honor As she had made the overture, she ceased, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King.

Plutus himself,

1 "The last time that ever I took leave of her at court."
2 Ingaged, i. e. ple lged to her, having received her pledge.
3 Subscribed, i. e. submitted.