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, Shall furnish me to those Italian fields Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise 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! Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have nine 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? a Bertram would say-the strife of war is nothing, compared to that of the dark house, &c. By the "dark house" we understand the house which is the seat of gloom and discontent. 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.-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 to a compell'd restraint ; 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. Luf. 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. Ber. Will she away to-night? Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my Given order for our horses; and to-night, Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies threethirds, 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 ;4 ; 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 know their na a The lark and the common bunting greatly resemble each other, but the bunting has no song. b The reading of the original is "And, ere I do begin." This valuable correction is derived from a MS. alteration of a copy of the first folio, and is given in Mr. Collier's "Reasons for a New Edition of Shakespeare's Works." you, That presently you take your way for home; "T will be two days ere I shall see you; so 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. Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. Ber. Well, what would you say ? Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe; Nor dare I say 't is mine; and yet it is; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT II. 2 SCENE II." A morris for May-day." In A Midsummer Night's Dream (Illustrations of Act 1.) we have given a general notice of the Maygames. We take the opportunity of here introducing a copy of an ancient painted window at Betley, in Staffordshire, an engraving and description of which is generally found in the variorum editions of Shakspere, appended to Henry IV., Part I. 1 SCENE II." It is like a barber's chair." "As common as a barber's chair" was a proverbial expression, which we find used by Burton (Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1652, p. 665). In a collection of epigrams, entitled 'More Fooles yet,' 1610, we have these lines: The barber's shop, in Shakspere's time, was place where news of every kind circled and centered." So Scott has described it in the 'Fortunes of Nigel.' The "knight or worthy gentleman was nothing loth to exchange gossip with the artist who presided over the chair; and, while "the Jack or journeyman" took his turn, many a gay gallant has filled up the minutes by touching the ghittern to some favourite roundelay. Jose Amman, one of the most spirited of designers, has given us a representation of a German barber's shop, which may well enough pass for such an English "emporium of intelligence." [Morris for May-day-Tollet's Window.] Douce believes that this window "exhibits, in all probability, the most curious as well as the oldest representation of an English May-game and morrisdance that is anywhere to be found." Mr. Tollet, the possessor of this window, supposed it to have been painted in the youthful days of Henry VIII.; but Douce is of opinion "that the dresses and costume of some of the figures are certainly of an older .period, and may, without much hazard, be pronounced to belong to the reign of Edward IV." Robin Hood and Little John were prominent characters in the May-games. We do not find them in the painted window, unless some of the undistinguished dancers may be taken to personate them. The lady with a crown on her head and a flower in her hand (2) is taken to be Maid Marian, the Queen of the May; and the friar (3) to be the no less famous Friar Tuck. (See Two Gentlemen of Verona, Illustrations of Act IV.) The rider of the hobby-horse (5) is deemed by Mr. Tollet to be the King of the May: at any rate, the hobby-horse was one of the greatest personages of the Maygames. (See Love's Labour's Lost, Illustrations of Act m.) The Fool of the Morris (12) is plainly indicated by his cap and bauble; and the Piper, or Taborer, (9) in the painted window, is pursuing his avocation with his wonted energy. Drayton has described this personage as Tom Piper, "Who so bestirs him in the morris-dance At Mr. Tollet thinks that the dancers in his window were representatives of the various ranks of life, and that the peasant, the franklin, and the nobleman are each to be found here. All the dancers, it will be observed, have bells attached to their ancles or knees; and Douce says "there is good reason for believing that the morris-bells were borrowed from the genuine Moorish dance." any rate, the bells were indispensable even in Shakspere's time. Will Kemp, the celebrated comic actor, was a great morris-dancer, and in 1599 he undertook the extraordinary feat of dancing the morris from London to Norwich. This singular performance is recorded by himself in a rare tract, lately republished by the Camden Society, entitled 'Kemp's Nine Daies Wonder; performed in a Dance from London to Norwich.' The following extract is amusing in itself, and illustrates some of tho peculiarities of the morris :— "In this town of Sudbury there came a lusty, tall fellow, a butcher by his profession, that would in a morrice keep me company to Bury. I, being glad of his friendly offer, gave him thanks, and forward we did set; but, ere ever we had measured half a mile of our way, he gave me over in the plain field, protesting that, if he might get 100 pound, he would not hold out with me; for indeed my pace in dancing is not ordinary. "As he and I were parting, a lusty country lass, being among the people, called him faint-hearted lout, saying, 'If I had begun to dance, I would have held out one mile though it had cost my life.' At which words many laughed. 'Nay,' saith she, 'if the dancer will lend me a leash of his bells, I'll venture to tread one mile with him myself.' I looked upon her, saw mirth in her eyes, heard boldness in D 2 her words, and beheld her ready to tuck up her russet petticoat; I fitted her with bells, which she merrily taking, garnished her thick short legs and with a smooth brow bade the tabrer begin. The drum struck; forward marched I with my merry Maid Marian, who shook her fat sides, and footed it merrily to Melford, being a long mile. There parting with her, I gave her (besides her skin full of drink) an English crown to buy more drink; for, good wench, she was in a piteous heat: my kindness she requited with dropping some dozen of short curtsies, and bidding God bless the dancer. I bade her adieu; and, to give her her due, she had a good ear, danced truly, and we parted friendly." Sir The now vulgar expression "O Lord, sir," was for a long time the fashionable phrase, and has been ridiculed by other writers. The whipping of a domestic fool was not an uncommon occurrence. Dudley Carleton writes to Mr Winwood, in 1604,-— "There was great execution done lately upon Stone, the fool, who was well whipped in Bridewell for a blasphemous speech, that there were sixty fools in Spain besides my lord admiral and his two sons. But he is now at liberty again, and for that unexpected release gives his lordship the praise of a very pitiful lord."-(Memoirs of the Peers, by Sir E. Brydges.) 4 SCENE V. "Like him that leaped into the custard.” Ben Jonson has a passage which well illustrates this "He may perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner, Skip with a rhyme on the table, from New-nothing, And take his Almain-leap into a custard, Shall make my lady mayoress and her sisters Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders." Devil is an Ass, Act 1. Sc. I. The leaper into the custard was the city fool. Gifford has a note on the above passage of Jonson, which we copy:-"Our old dramatists abound with pleasant allusions to the enormous size of their 'quaking custards,' which were served up at the city feasts, and with which such gross fooleries were played. Thus Glapthorne : 'I'll write the city annals In metre, which shall far surpass Sir Guy Of Warwick's history, or John Stow's, upon The custard, with the four-and-twenty nooks At my lord mayor's feast.'-Wit in a Constable. "Indeed, no common supply was required; for, besides what the corporation (great devourers of custard) consumed on the spot, it appears that it was thought no breach of city manners to send or take some of it home with them for the use of their ladies. In the excellent old play quoted above, Clara twits her uncle with this practice : 'Nor shall you, sir, as 't is a frequent custom, ་ ་་ |