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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 II. Changes to Rousillon, in France. Enter Countess and Clown.

Count.

It hath happen'd, all as I would have had it; save, that he comes not along with her.

Clo.

By my troth, I take my young Lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count.

By what observance, I pray you?

Clo.

Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend his ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing. I knew a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song.

Count.

Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.

[Reads the letter.

Clo.

I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court. Our old ling, and our Isbels o'th' country, are nothing like your old ling, and your Isbels o'th' court: the brain of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves mony, with no stomach.

Count.

What have we here?

Clo.

E'en That you have there.

[Exit.

Countess reads a letter.

I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the King, and undone me. I have wedded her,

-- 56 --

not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you.

Your unfortunate Son,
Bertram.


This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a King,
To pluck his indignation on thy head;
By the misprizing of a maid, too virtuous
For the contempt of empire. Re-enter Clown.

Clo.

O Madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady.

Count.

What is the matter?

Clo.

Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be kill'd so soon as I thought he would.

Count.

Why should he be kill'd?

Clo.

So say I, Madam, if he run away, as I hear he does; the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more. For my part, I only hear, your son was run away.

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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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