Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.

Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords, and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. Enter BERTRAM.

Par. Good, very good; it is so then.-Good, very good; let it be concealed a while.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares forever!

Par. What is the matter, sweet heart?

Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,

I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, sweet heart?

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me :

I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits

The tread of a man's foot to the wars!

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is,

I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known: To the wars, my boy,

to the wars!

He wears his honour in a box unseen,

That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home ;7
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,

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

Ber. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,

[7] Sir T. Hanmer, in his Glossary, observes, that kicksy-wicksy is a made word in ridicule and disdain of a wife. GREY.

And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
That which I durst not speak: His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,

Where noble fellows strike: War is no strife
To the dark house, and the detested wife.
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.

A

Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it.'Tis hard;

young man, married, is a man that's marr'd:

Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:

The king has done you wrong; but, hush! 'tis so. [Exe.

The same.

SCENE IV.

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' th' 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!

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.

[8] The dark house is a house made gloomy by discontent. Milton says of death and the king of hell preparing to combat:

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

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 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 compell'd restraint;

Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets,
Which they distil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,

And pleasure drown the brim.

Hel. What's his will else?

Par. That you will take your instant leave o' th' king, And make this haste 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 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.

[Exeunt.

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.

[9] 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.

[1] A specious appearance of necessity. JOHNSON.

Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.

Ber. And by other warranted testimony.

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.
Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor?

Par. Sir?

[TO BERT.

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?

Par. She is.

Ber. Will she away to-night ?

Par. As you'll have her.

[Aside to PAR.

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 custard ;3 and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.

[2] This is a fine discrimination between the possessor of 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. J. JOHNSON

[3] 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. THEOBALD.

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.-Farewell, monsieur : I have spoken better 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.

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,
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:
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.

Hel. And ever shall

With true observance seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that go:

My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home.