her: fure, they are baftards to the Englife, the French ne'er got 'em. Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a fon out of my blood. 4 Lord. (18) Fair one, I think not fo. Par. I am fure, thy father drunk wine, Into your guiding power; this is the man. [To Bertram. The help of mine own eyes. King. Know'st thou not, Bertram, What the hath done for me? Ber. Yes, my good Lord, But never hope to know why I fhould marry her. King, Thou know'ft, fhe has rais'd me from my fickly bed. Ber. But follows it, my Lord, to bring me down A poor phyfician's daughter my wife!-Disdain King. 'Tis only title thou difdain'ft in her, the which I can build up: ftrange is it, that our bloods, (18) 4 Lord. Fair one, I think not fo. Laf. There's one grape yet, I am sure my father drunk wine; but if thou be eft not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen: I have known thee already. Surely, this is moft incongruent stuff. Lafeu is angry with the other moblemen, for giving Helena the repulfe: and is he angry too, and thinks the, fourth nobleman an afs, because he's for embracing the match? The whole, certainly, can't be the fpeech of one mouth. As I have divided the fpeech, I think, clearness and humour are reflor'd. And if Parolles were not a little pert and impertinent here to Lafeu, why fhould he fay, he had found him out already? Or, why should he quarrel with him in the very next fcene? Of Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, All that is virtuous, (fave what thou dislik'ft, (19) From loweft place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignify'd by th' doer's deed. Where great addition fwells, and virtue none, (19) From lowest place, whence virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by th' doers deed.] "Tis ftrange, that none of the editors could perceive, that both the fentiment and grammar are defective here. The eafy correction, which I have given, was prefcribed to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. (20) -Honours beft thrive, Than our foregoers.] How nearly does this fentiment of our author's refemble the following paffage of Juvenal! Ergo ut miremur te, non tua, primum aliquid da Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb, Sat. VIII. ver. 68. Of bonour'd bones, indeed, what should be faid?] This is furch pretty ftuff, indeed, as is only worthy of its accurate editors! the tranfpofition of an innocent ftop, or two, is a talk above their diligence; especially, if common fenfe is to be the refult of it. The regulation, I have given, muft ftrike every reader fo at first glance, that it needs not a word in confirmation, of Of honour'd bones, indeed. What should be faid? I can create the reft: virtue and the, Is her own dow'r; honour and wealth from me. Hel. That you are well reftor'd, my Lord, I'm glad: Let the rest go.. King. (22) My honour's at the ftake; which to defend, My love, and her defert; that canft not dream, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt: Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, Of youth and ignorance; my revenge and hate (22) My bonour's at the fake; which to defeat I must produce my pow'r.] The poor King of France is again made a man of Gotham, by our unmerciful editors: What they make him fay, is mere mook-reafoning. The paffage muft either be reftor'd, as I have conjecturally corrected; or else the King muft be fuppos'd to break off abruptly from what he was going to fay, and determine that he will interpofe his authority. As thus; My bonour's at the flake; which to defeat, The The praised of the King; who, fo enobled, King. Take her by the hand, And tell her, fhe is thine: to whom I promise Ber. I take her hand. King. Good fortune, and the favour of the King Manent Parolles and Lafeu. [Exeunt Laf. Do you hear, Monfieur ? a word with you. Laf. Your Lord and mafter did well to make his recantation. Par. Recantation ?-my Lord? my master? Laf. Ay, is it not a language I fpeak? Par. A moft harfh one, and not to be understood. without bloody fucceeding. My master? Laf. Are you companion to the Count Roufillon? Par. To any Count; to all Counts; to what is man... Laf. To what is Count's man; Count's mafter is of another ftile. Par. You are too old, Sir; let it fatisfy you, you are too old. Laf. I must tell thee, firrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee. Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wife fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel, it might pafs; yet the fcarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly diffuade me from believing thee a veffel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lofe thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that thou'rt fcarce worth. Par. Par. Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee Laf. (23) Do not plunge thyfelf too far in anger, left thou haften thy tryal; which if,-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! fo, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy cafement I need not open, I look through thee. Give me thy hand. Par. My Lord, you give me moft egregious indignity. Laf. Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it. Par. I have not, my Lord, deferv'd it. Laf. Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not bate thee a fcruple. Par. Well, I fhall be wifer Laf. Ev'n as foon as thou can'ft, for thou haft to pull at a fmack o' th' contrary. If ever thou beeft bound in thy fcarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a defire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may fay in the default, he is a man I know. Par. My Lord, you do me moft infupportable vexation. Laf. I would, it were hell-pains for thy fake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing, I am paft; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit. (23) Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, left thou haften thy tryal; which is, Lord have mercy on thee for a ben;] Mr Rowe and Mr. Pope, either by inadvertence, or fome other fatality, have blunder'd this paffage into stark nonfenfe. I have reftor'd the reading of the old folio, and by fubjoining the mark to fhew a break is neceffary, have retriev'd the poet's genuine fense: - -which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a ben! The fequel of the fentence is imply'd, not exprefs'd: This figure the Thetoricians have call'd Αποσιώπησις. A remarkable inftance we have of it in the first book of Virgil's Æneis. Quos Ego-fed motos præflat componere Fluctus. So likewife in Terence; Mala mens, malus animus; quem quidem Ego fi fenfero, Andr. Aa I. Sc. I. But I fhall have occafion to remark again upon it, when I come to King Lear. Par |