That which I durst not speak: His present gift Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll send her straight away: To-morrow I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. Another Room in the same. Enter HELENA and Clown. Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well? Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her health : she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'the world; but yet she is not well. Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well? Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two things. Hel. What two things? Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! Enter PAROLLES. Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! 2 To the dark-house,] The dark house is a house made gloomy by discontent. Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.... Par. You had my prayers to lead them on: and to keep them on, have them still. - O, my knave! How does my old lady? Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I 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.- The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; But puts it off by + a compell'd restraint; Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'er-flow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim. Hel. What's his will else? Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the king, + "But puts it off to a compell'd restraint." MALONE. And make this haste as your own good proceeding, May make it probable need.3 Hel. 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. Hel. I pray you. Come, sirrah. SCENE V. Another Room in the same. Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. [Exeunt. Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier. Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. Laf. Then my 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 BERTRAM. Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? 3-probable need.] A specious appearance of necessity. 4 —— a bunting.] The bunting is, in feather, size, and form, so like the sky-lark, as to require nice attention to discover the one 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 PAROLLES. Par. She is. Ber. Will she away to-night? Par. As you'll have her. 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 leaped into the custard4; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your 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 from the other; it also ascends and sings in the air nearly in the same manner: but it has little or no song, which gives estimation to the sky-lark. 4 You have made shift to run into’t, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped 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. know their natures. Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve+ at my hand; but we must do good against evil. Par. An idle lord, I swear. Ber. I think so. Par. Why, do you not know him? [Exit. Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. Enter HELENA. Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only, he desires Some private speech with you. Ber. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, 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, my mother: 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, And ever shall Hel. + "Will to deserve." MALONE. 5 And rather muse,] To muse is to wonder. |