I left her on her knees, thanking the gods.
With tears and prayers.

Val. You have given me too much comfort.
Mary. She will not be long from you.
Hylas. Your fair cousin?

Val. It is so, and a bait you cannot balk, sir,
If your old rule reign in you. You may know her.
Hylas. A happy stock you have.-Right worthy
lady,

The poorest of your servants vows his duty
And obliged faith.*

Mary. Oh, 'tis a kiss you would, sir;
Take it, and tie your tongue up.

Hylas. I'm an ass,

I do perceive now, a blind ass, a blockhead;
For this is handsomeness, this that that draws us,
Body and bones. Oh, what a mounted forehead,
What eyes and lips, what every thing about her!
How like a swan she swims her pace, and bears
Her silver breasts! This is the woman, she,
And only she, that I will so much honour
As to think worthy of my love; all older idols
I heartily abhor, and give to gunpowder,
And all complexions besides hers, to gypsies.

Enter FRANCISCO at one door, and CELLIDE at another.

Val. Oh, my dear life, my better heart! all dangers,

Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes,
Had they been endless like the hours upon me,

A happy stock ye have, &c.] This is made a continuation of Valentine's speech, by an omission of Hylas's name in the former editions. Seward.

In this kiss had been buried in oblivion.
How happy have you made me, truly happy!
Cel. My joy has so much over-master'd me,
That, in my tears for your return

Val. Oh, dearest !

My noble friend too? What a blessedness
Have I about me now! how full my wishes
Are come again! A thousand hearty welcomes
I once more lay upon you! All I have,
The fair and liberal use of all my servants
To be at your command, and all the uses
Of all within my power,-

Fran. (You're too munificent;

Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, sir-
Val. You wrong my tender love now)-even
my service;

Nothing excepted; nothing stuck between us
And our entire affections, but this woman;3

3

and all the uses

Of all within my power,

Fran. Ye are too munificent,

Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, sir.

Val. Ye wrong my tender love now, even my service,
Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between us

And our entire affections, but this woman.] The change of accepted to excepted is Seward's, and needs no defence. But when that editor makes even a verb, and explains the words-Even my service," You shall be served equal with myself; or expect a service equal to that which is paid to me," he is evidently wrong, and confounds confusion. The present regulation of the pointing makes all plain, and is one of the happiest propositions of Mr Mason. "Valentine is proceeding," he observes, " to express his love for Francis, and his kind attention to him; but, in the midst of his speech, is interrupted by Francis, who cannot contain his expressions of gratitude: To this Valentine makes a short reply, and then proceeds as he first intended. If the speech of Francis, and Valentine's reply to it, be included in a parenthesis, and the passage be properly pointed, the sense of it will be evident. Even my services means, even my own service, as well as that of my servants."

I do confess, would make a thief, but never
Of him that's so much yours, and bound your ser-

vant :

That were a base ingratitude.

Val. You are noble !

Pray be acquainted with her. Keep your way, sir; My cousin, and my sister.

Alice. You are most welcome.

Mary. If any thing in our poor powers, fair sir, To render you content, and liberal welcome, May but appear, command it.

Alice. You shall find us Happy in our performance.

Fran. The poor servant

Of both your goodnesses presents his service. Val. Come, no more compliment; custom has made it

Dull, old, and tedious: You are once more wel

come

As your own thoughts can make ye, and the same

ever:

And so we'll in to ratify it.

Hylas. Hark ye, Valentine:

Is Wild-Oats yet come over?
Val. Yes, with me, sir.

Mary. How does he bear himself?

Val. A great deal better.

Why do you blush? The gentleman will do well.

Mary. I should be glad on't, sir.

Val. How does his father?

Hylas. As mad a worm as e'er he was.

Val. I look'd for't:

Shall we enjoy your company

?

Hylas. I'll wait on ye:

Only a thought or two.

Val. We bar all prayers. [Exeunt all but HYLAS. Hylas. This last wench! ay, this last wench. was a fair one,

A dainty wench, a right one! A devil take it,
What do I ail? to have fifteen now in liking!
Enough, a man would think, to stay my stomach:
But what's fifteen, or fifteen score, to my thoughts?
And wherefore are mine eyes made, and have lights,
But to increase my objects? This last wench
Sticks plaguy close unto me; a hundred pound
I were as close to her! If I loved now,

As many foolish men do, I should run mad. [Exit.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in Sebastian's House.

Enter SEBASTIAN and LAUNCELOT.

Seb. Sirrah, no more of your French shrugs, I advise you!

If you be lousy, shift yourself.

Laun. May it please your worship

Seb. Only to see my son; my son, good Launcelot;

Your master and my son! Body o' me, sir,
No money, no more money, Monsieur Launcelot,
Not a denier, sweet signior! Bring the person,
person of my boy, my boy Tom, Monsieur
Thomas,

The

Or get you gone again! Du gata whee,* sir!

• Du gata whee.] The expression Du cat a whee occurs in the

Bassa mi cu, good Launcelot ! valetote !5
My boy, or nothing!

Laun. Then, to answer punctually,-
Seb. I say to th' purpose.

Laun. Then I say to th' purpose;

Because your worship's vulgar understanding May meet me at the nearest: Your son, my master,

Or Monsieur Thomas, (for so his travel styles him)
Through many foreign plots that virtue meets with,
And dangers (I beseech you give attention)
Is at the last arrived,

To ask your (as the Frenchman calls it sweetly)
Benediction de jour en jour.

Seb. Sirrah, don't conjure me with your French furies."

Laun. Che ditt'a vous, monsieur?
Seb. Che doga vou, rascal!

Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly,

Custom of the Country; upon which we have said (vol. II. p. 300,) that we were assured it was not Welch," as Theobald had asserted, though without declaring its signification. The genuine Welch, of which this is a vitiation, is Duw cadw chwi, God bless or preserve you. Duw cadw ni is, God bless or preserve us.-Ed. 1778.

5 Valetote.] A corruption of voila tout !-Ed. 1778.

• Don't conjure me with your French furies.] The old man, not understanding the expression de jour en jour, repeats the English words that are nearest it in sound; and, in the old quarto of this play, it is hard to distinguish whether the last word be juries or furies; I prefer the former, and think the similitude of sounds more in character than any allusion between the furies and conjuration.-Seward.

Furies is the visible lection of the old quarto, and every edition prior to Mr Seward's; it is also good sense and natural; and conJURE me is play enough upon Launcelot's de JOUR en JOUR.— Ed. 1778.

I strongly suspect Seward in the present case is right, though the lection in the quarto is plainly furies...