The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me.

2 Lord. We shall, noble captain.

Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! [Exeunt Lords.] What will you do?

Ber. Stay; the king

[Seeing him rise.

Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble SCENE I-Paris. A room in the King's palace. of too cold an adieu : be more expressive to them; lords; you have restrained yourself within the list Flourish. Enter King, with young Lords taking for they wear themselves in the cap of time, there, leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parol-do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under les, and attendants.

King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin-
ciples,

Do not throw from you :-and you, my lord, fare-
well:-

Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd,
And is enough for both.

1 Lord.

It is our hope, sir,
After well-enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confess he owes the malady
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords;||
Whether I live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy Frenchmen: 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 questant2 shrinks, find what you seek,
That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell.
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.3
Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewell.-Come hither to me.
[The King retires to a couch.
1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay be-
hind us.

Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark2 Lord.

Ò, 'tis brave wars
Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars.
Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil4 with;
Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early.
Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away
bravely.

Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn,
But one to dance with 5 By heaven, I'll steal away.
1 Lord. There's honour in the theft.
Par.

Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.

1 Lord. Farewell, 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

(1) i. e. Those excepted who possess modern Italy, the remains of the Roman empire. (2) Seeker, inquirer.

(3) Be not captives before you are soldiers. (4) With a noise, bustle.

(5) In Shakspeare's time it was usual for gentlemen to dance with swords on.

the influence of the most received star; and though
the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed:
after them, and take a more dilated farewell.
Ber. And I will do so.

Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exe. Bertram and Parolles. Enter Lafeu.

Laf. Pardon, my lord, [Kneeling.] for me and
for my tidings.
King. I'll fee thee to stand up.
Laf
Then here's a man
Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you
Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; and
That, at my bidding, you could so stand up.
King. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate,
And ask'd thee mercy for't.

No.

O, will you eat

Laf.
Good faith, across :9
Of your infirmity?
But, my good lord, 'tis thus; Will you be cur'd
King.
Laf
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox
No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will,
Could reach them: I have seen a medicine,10
That's able to breath life into a stone;
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary,"l
With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple touch
Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay,
To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand,
And write to her a love-line."

King.
What her is this?
Laf. Why, doctor she: My lord, there's one
If you will see her,-now, by my faith and honour,
arriv'd,
If seriously I may convey my thoughts
In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession,12
Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more
Than I dare blame my weakness: Will you see her
(For that is her demand,) and know her business?
That done, laugh well at me.

King.
Now, good Lafeu,
Bring in the admiration; that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine,
By wond'ring how thou took'st it.

Laf

Nay, I'll fit you, [Exit Lafeu.

And not be all day neither.
King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

Re-enter Lafeu, with Helena.

Laf. Nay, come your ways.
King.

This haste hath wings indeed.
This is his majesty, say your mind to him:
Laf. Nay, come your ways;

(6) They are the foremost in the fashion.
(7) Have the true military step. (8) The dance.
(9) Unskilfully; a phrase taken from the exer-
cise at a quintaine.

(12) By profession is meant her declaration of the (10) A female physician. (11) A kind of dance. object of her coming.

A traitor you do look like; but such traitors
His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle,
That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Ex.
King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us?
Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was
My father; in what he did profess, well found.2
King. I knew him.

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him;

Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death
Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one,
Which, as the dearest issue of his practice,
And of his old experience the only darling,
He bade me store up, as a triple eye,3
Safer than mine own two, more dear: I have so :
And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd
With that malignant cause wherein the honour
Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humbleness.

King.

We thank you, maiden ;|
But may not be so credulous of cure,-
When our most learned doctors leave us; and
The congregated college have concluded
That labouring art can never ransome nature
From her inaidable estate,-I say we must not
So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malady
To empirics; or to dissever so
Our great self and our credit, to esteem

A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.
Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my pains:
I will no more enforce mine office on you;
Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts
A modest one, to bear me back again.

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd
grateful;

Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give,
As one near death to those that wish him live:
But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part;
I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try,
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy:
He that of greatest works is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister:
So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown,
When judges have been babes.4 Great floods have
flown

From simple sources ;5 and great seas have dried,
When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits.
King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind
maid;

Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid:
Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward.
Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd:
It is not so with him that all things knows,
As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows:
But most it is presumption in us, when
The help of heaven we count the act of men.
Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent;
Of heaven, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an impostor, that proclaim
Myself against the level of mine aim ;7

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; no worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended.

King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak;

weak:

His powerful sound, within an organ
And what impossibility would slay
In common sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life is dear; for all, that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate ;9
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and prime10 can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try;
That ministers thine own death, if I die.

Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die;
And well deserv'd: Not helping, death's my fee;
But, if I help, what do you promise me?
King. Make thy demand."

Hel.
But will you make it even?
King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of

heaven.

Hel. Then shalt thou give me, with thy kingly hand,

What husband in thy power I will command:
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royal blood of France;
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd;
So make the choice of thy own time; for I,
Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely.

More should I question thee, and more I must; Though, more to know, could not be more to trust; From whence thou cam'st, how tended on,-But

rest

Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest.— Give me some help here, ho!-If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE II-Rousillon. A room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.

(7) i. e. Pretend to greater things than befits the mediocrity of my condition. (8) The evening star.

(9) i. e. May be counted among the gifts enjoyed by thee.

(10) The spring or morning of life.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught: I know my business is but to the court. Count. To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!

Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; but, for me, I have an answer will serve all men.

Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions.

Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.

Count. Will your answer serve fit to all questions?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin.

Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?

Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands.

Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't: Ask me, if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clo. O Lord, sir,--There's a simple putting off;-more, more, a hundred of them.

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-Thick, thick, spare not me. Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-Nay, put me to't,I warrant you.
Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
Clo. O Lord, sir,-Spare not me.

Count. Do you cry, O Lord, sir, at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed, your O Lord, sir, is very sequent to your whipping; you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't.

Count. Haste you again.

Act 11

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE III-Paris. A room in the King's
Palace. Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

our philosophical persons, to make modern? and
Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have
familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence
is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing
ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should
submit ourselves to an unknown fear.3

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times.

Ber. And so 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,-
Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-
Par. Right, so I say.

Laf. That

gave him out incurable,Par. Why, there 'tis; so say I too. Laf. Not to be helped,

Par. Right: as 'twere, a man assured of anLaf. Uncertain life, and sure death. Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. ing, you shall read it in, What do you call Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showthere?

Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.

Par. That's it I would have said: the very same.
I speak in respect-
Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me

the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most
Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is
facinorous5 spirit, that will not acknowledge it to
be the

Laf. Very hand of heaven.
Par. Ay, so I say.

Laf. In a most weak

transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a
Par. And debile minister, great power, great
the king, as to be
further use to be made, than alone the recovery of

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter King, Helena, and attendants.
comes the king.
Par. I would have said it; you say well: Here

Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like
Why, he's able to lead her a coranto.
a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head:

Par. Mort du Vinaigre! Is not this Helen?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my-Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; O Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not

serve ever.

Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-Why, there't serves well again.
Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give
Helen this,

And urge her to a present answer back:
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son;
This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them.
Count. Not much employment for you: You un-
derstand me?

Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs.

(1) Properly follows.
(3) Fear means here the object of fear.
(2) Ordinary.
4)The dauphin.
(5) Wicked.

King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.—
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
[Exit an attendant.
The confirmation of my promis'd gift,
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
Which but attends thy naming.

Enter several Lords.

Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,
O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice?
I have to use: thy frank election make;
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.
Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mis-

tress

Fall, when love please!-marry, to each, but one!"

(6) Lustigh is the Dutch word for lusty, cheerful
(7) They were wards as well as subjects.
(8) Except one, meaning Bertram.

Laf. I'd give bay Curtal, and his furniture, My mouth no more were broken than these boys', And writ as little beard.

King.

Peruse them well:
Not one of those, but had a noble father.
Hel. Gentlemen,

Heaven hath, through me, restor'd the king to health.

All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
Hel. I am a simple maid; and therein wealthiest,
That, I protest, I simply am a maid :-
Please it your majesty, I have done already :
The biashes in my cheeks thus whisper ine,
We blush, that thou should'st choose; but, be re-
fus'd,

Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
We'll ne'er come there again.
King.
Make choice; and, see,
Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly;
And to imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream.-Sir, will you hear my suit?
1 Lord. And grant it.

Hel.

Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.2 Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw ames-ace3 for my life.

Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love! 2 Lord. No better, if you please. Hel. My wish receive, Which great love grant! and so I take my leave. Laf. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of.

Hel. Be not afraid [To a Lord] that I your hand should take;

I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them.

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood.

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.

Laf. There's one grape yet,-I am sure, thy father drank wine.-But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already.

Hel. I dare not say I take you; [To Bertram.] but I give

Me, and my service, ever whilst I live,
Into your guiding power.-This is the man.
King. Why then, young Bertram, take her,
she's thy wife.

Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness,

In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.
King

Know'st thou not, Bertram,

What she has done for me?

A poor physician's daughter my wife!-Disdain Rather corrupt me ever!

King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the
which

I can build up. Strange is it,.that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty: if she be
All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone
Is good, without a name; vileness is so :6
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,
Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid,

I can create the rest: virtue, and she,
Is her own dower; honour, and wealth, from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st
strive to choose.

Hel. That you are well restor❜d, my lord, I am glad;

Let the rest go.

King. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, I must produce my power: Here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love, and her desert; that canst not dream, We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam: that wilt not know, It is in us to plant thine honour, where We please to have it grow: Check thy contempt : Obey our will, which travails in thy good : Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims; Or I will throw thee from my care for ever, Into the staggers, and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate, Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, Without all terms of pity: Speak; thine answer.

Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit My fancy to your eyes: When I consider, What great creation, and what dole of honour, Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now The praised of the king; who, so ennobled, Is, as 'twere, born so. King. Take her by the hand, And tell her, she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoise; if not to thy estate, A balance more replete.

Ber. I take her hand. King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king, Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief,

238

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her,
Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.

[Exeunt King, Bertram, Helena, Lords, and
attendants.

Laf. Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. Par. Your pleasure, sir?

Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his

recantation.

there's news for you; you have a new mistress.
Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship
to make some reservation of your wrongs: He is
my good lord: whom I serve above, is my master.
Laf. Who? God?

Par. Ay, sir.

Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee: methinks, thou art a gene

Par. Recantation?-My lord? my master?
Laf. Ay; Is it not a language, I speak?
Par. A most harsh one; and not to be under-ral
stood without bloody succeeding. My master?

Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousillon?
Par. To any count; to all counts; to what is

man.

Laf. To what is count's man; count's master is of another style.

Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old.

Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee.

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass; yet the scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou art scarce worth. Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,

Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.

Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.

Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy

of it.

Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it. Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; will not bate thee a scruple.

Par. Well, I shall be wiser.

Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge; that I may say, in the default,2 he is a man I know.

Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable

vexation.

Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit. Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of-I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

Re-enter Lafeu.

Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married,

(1) i. e. While I sat twice with thee at dinner.
(2) At a need.

offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breathe3 themselves upon thee.

Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.

Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords, and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else [Exit. I'd call you knave. I leave you.

Enter Bertram.

Par. Good, very good; it is so then.-Good, very good; let it be concealed a while.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Par. What is the matter, sweet heart?
Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have
will not bed her.

sworn,

Par. What? what, sweet heart?

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me :I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot: to the wars! Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is,

I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known: To the wars, my boy, to the wars!

He wears his honour in a box unseen,

That hugs his kicksy-wicksy4 here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed: To other regions!
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,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
That which I durst not speak: His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where noble fellows strike: War is no strife
To the dark house,5 and the detested wife.

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll send her straight away: To-morrow. I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it.

-'Tis hard;

A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd:
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:
The king has done you wrong; but, hush! 'tis so.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV-The same. Another room in the
same. Enter Helena and Clown.
Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well?
Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her health;
(3) Exercise. (4) A cant term for a wife.
(5) The house made gloomy by discontent.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from ..., Svazek 1