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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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SCENE I. The Court of France. Enter the King, with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war. Bertram and Parolles. Flourish Cornets.

King.
Farewel, young Lords: these warlike principles
Do not throw from you: you, my Lords, farewel;
Share the advice betwixt you. If both gain,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd,
And is enough for both.

1 Lord.
'Tis our hope, Sir,
After well-enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your Grace in health.

-- 27 --

King.
No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confess, it owns the malady
That doth my life besiege; farewel, young Lords;
Whether I live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy Frenchmen; 1 note

let higher Italy
(Those 'bated, that inherit but the Fall
Of the last Monarchy;) see, that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when
The bravest Questant shrinks, find what you seek,
That Fame may cry you loud: I say, farewel.

2 Lord.
Health at your bidding serve your Majesty!

King.
Those girls of Italy,—take heed of them;
They say, our French lack language to deny,
If they demand: beware of being captives,
Before you serve.

Both.
Our hearts receive your warnings.

King.
Farewel. Come hither to me.
[To Attendants. [Exit.

1 Lord.
Oh, my sweet Lord, that you will stay behind us!—

Par.
'Tis not his fault; the spark—

2 Lord.
Oh, 'tis brave wars.

-- 28 --

Par.
Most admirable; I have seen those wars.

Ber.
I am commanded here, and kept a coil with,
Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early.—

Par.

An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely.

Ber.
Shall I stay here the forehorse to a smock,
Creeking my shoes on the plain masonry,
'Till Honour be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with? by heav'n I'll steal away.

1 Lord.
There's honour in the theft.

Par.
Commit it, Count.

2 Lord.
I am your accessary, and so farewel.

Ber.

I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body.

1 Lord.

Farewel, Captain.

2 Lord.

Sweet Monsieur Parolles!—

Par.

Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin; good sparks and lustrous. A word, good metals. You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spurio with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrench'd it; say to him, I live, and observe his reports of me.

2 Lord.

We shall, noble captain.

Par.

Mars doat on you for his novices! what will ye do?

Ber.

Stay; the King—

[Exeunt Lords.

Par.

Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble Lords, you have restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu; be more expressive to them, for 2 notethey wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, to muster true gate, eat, speak, and move under the

-- 29 --

influence of the most receiv'd star; and tho' the devil lead the measure, such are to be follow'd: after them, and take a more dilated farewel.

Ber.

And I will do so.

Par.

Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.

[Exeunt.

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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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