fellow, full of wickedness;" and that her son "corrupts a wellderived nature with his inducement." He held the respectable office of toad-eater, and something worse, to the weak young lord. Mariana, too, whom he had addressed in loveterms, says of him, "I know the knave !-hang him!—a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young carl." And lastly, Helena describes him as a "notorious liar, a great way fool, and solely a coward." She, too, although of a gentle nature, cannot forbear girding at him for being a palpable and transparent poltroon. In taking leave of her, to go to the court with his master, he says, with the insolence natural to a braggart, "Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court." She answers with the sarcasm of a well-bred female "Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. "Par. Under Mars, I. "Hel. I especially think, under Mars. "Par. Why under Mars? "Hel. The wars have so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars. 'Par. When he was predominant. "Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. "Par. Why think you so? "Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. "Par. That's for advantage. "Hel. So is running away when fear proposes the safety. But the composition that your valour and fear make in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. "Par. I am so full of businesses I cannot answer thee acutely." If Parolles had not been a fool as well as knave, he would not have answered Helena's first reply. He did not know when to drop the dialogue, and at last does so like a fool. It was a pleasant thought in the poet, when the troops were returning victorious, and content with their triumph, to make Parolles, the boaster, the only one who is dissatisfied: and what a cause for his displeasure; because they had lost a drum! the only thing in a battle "full of sound and fury," without result; the emblem of his precious self-empty, noisy, and urging on others to the fight. For the loss of this drum, therefore, he swells and fumes with infinite humour. While he is marching in procession, and the women inquire of each other why that "French jackanapes, with the scarfs, is so melancholy;" we hear him ejaculate, "Lose our drum! WELL!"—and we find afterwards how he has been blowing and storming about this drum; for the young lords, when they are resolved that Bertram shall open his eyes to his purblind confidence in the knave, lay the plot to surprise him, one of them advises, “Oh, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for it." And the other echoes, "For the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.” Bertram assents to the plot for the hoax; and Parolles coming in, he calls out to him "How now, Monsieur; this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. "2 Lord. Oh, the deuce take it; let it go; 'tis but a drum. "Par. But a drum! Is 't but a drum? A drum so lost!" The parley ends by Bertram promising, that if he will undertake the recovery of the drum, the whole merit of the enterprise shall be awarded to him. "Then, by the hand of a soldier," answers Parolles, "I will undertake it;” adding, “I love not many words." The scene of the plot which ensues (the opening of the 4th Act) is long, and, perhaps, the most humorous of its class ever penned; not untainted, however, with painfulness, as we contemplate the shocking self-prostration and debasement of a fellow-mortal. It opens with his famous soliloquy; which, for self-knowledge, with baseness, has never been surpassed, not even, perhaps, equalled : "Par. Ten o'clock: within three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the report of my tongue. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? "I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in the exploit. Yet, slight ones will not carry it; they will say, 'Came you off with so little?' and great ones I dare not give." Then follows one of those profound reflections that give one pause in studying these fine pictures of human nature. One of the young lords says, aside, "Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?" Well, the whole party sally from their ambush, seize, and blindfold him, jabbering all the while to each other in gibberish. One of the soldiers volunteers the office of interpreter between them; and to him, through fear of present death, he betrays the secrets of his party, and even traduces his friend and benefactor; the only one, by the way, of whom he speaks the truth. At this juncture, when he has blown himself up, and is left, the last of the party, the common soldier, reviles him in a farewell speech— "If you could find out a country where but women were, that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation." And when all are gone, and he is alone, he gives utterance to another remarkable prompting of selfknowledge : "Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft In the sequel, however, we find the poor wretch paying the extreme penalty of misery and starvation. He introduces himself to the Clown, whom he formerly had insulted, and now calls "Sir;" another instance of propriety in the poet's characters, into whatever position they may be thrown "Good Monsieur Lavatch, give my Lord Lafeu this letter. I have, ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. "Clown. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speak'st of. I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Prithee, allow the wind. "Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir. by a metaphor. 66 I spake but Clown. Indeed, sir; if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee farther." Old Lafeu comes in, inquires after his drum, and crowns his contempt of the reptile by telling him, that "though both fool and knave, he shall eat." Two conclusions, among others, we must come to in reading this delightful play; one-that nobility of birth, without nobleness of character, is naught; and the other—that virtue and self-respect bring their own reward of peace and satisfaction within, with esteem and benevolence from all who are worthy to bestow them. |