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Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber

window:

I'll order take my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me.
My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them,
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that what in time proceeds
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be none.
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.
[Exit.
Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven

and me!

You may so in the end,

My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in's heart: she says, all men
Have the like oaths. He had sworn to marry me,
When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him,
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
Marry that will, I live and die a maid:
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The Florentine Camp. Enter the two Frenchmen, and two or three Soldiers. Fr. Gent. You have not given him his mother's letter. Fr. Env. I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in't that stings his nature, for on the reading it he changed almost into another man.

Fr. Gent. He has much worthy blame laid upon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

Fr. Env. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly within you.

Fr. Gent. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

Fr. Env. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman, here in Florence, of a most chaste renown, and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

Fr. Gent. Now, God delay our rebellion: as we are ourselves, what things are we!

Fr. Env. Merely our own traitors: and as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself.

Fr. Gent. Is it not most damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night.

Fr. Env. Not till after midnight, for he is dieted to his hour.

Fr. Gent. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his companion anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgment, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

Fr. Env. We will not meddle with him till he come, for his presence must be the whip of the other.

Fr. Gent. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?

Fr. Env. I hear there is an overture of peace.
Fr. Gent. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
Fr. Env. What will count Rousillon do then? will
he travel higher, or return again into France?

Fr. Gent. I perceive by this demand you are not altogether of his council.

Fr. Env. Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act.

Fr. Gent. Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his house her pretence is a pilgrimage to saint Jaques le Grand, which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

Fr. Env. How is this justified?

Fr. Gent. The stranger part of it by her own letters, which make her story true, even to the point of her death: her death itself, which could not be her office to say, is come, and faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place.

Fr. Env. Hath the count all this intelligence? Fr. Gent. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

Fr. Env. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. Fr. Gent. How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts of our losses.

Fr. Env. And how mightily, some other times, we drown our gain in tears. The great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.

Fr. Gent. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. Enter a Servant.

How now? where's your master?

Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king.

Fr. Env. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. Enter BERTRAM.

Fr. Gent. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now.-How now, my lord! is't not after midnight?

Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congé'd with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest, buried a wife, mourned for her, writ to my lady mother I am returning, entertained my convoy; and between these main parcels of despatch effected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

Fr. Env. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

Ber. I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit medal: he has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier.

Fr. Env. Bring him forth. [Exeunt Soldiers.] He has sat i' the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. Ber. No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? Fr. Env. I have told your lordship already; the stocks

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carry him. But, to answer you as you would be understood, he weeps, like a wench that had shed her milk. He hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance, to this very instant disaster of his sitting i' the stocks, and what think you he hath confessed?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

Fr. Env. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it.

Re-enter Soldiers, with PAROLLES.

Ber. A plague upon him! muffled? he can say nothing of me: hush! hush!

Fr. Gent. Hoodman comes!-Portotartarossa.

1 Sold. He calls for the tortures: what will you say without 'em?

Par. I will confess what I know without constraint: if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. 1 Sold. Bosko chimurko.

Fr. Gent. Boblibindo chicurmurco.

1 Sold. You are a merciful general.-Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live.

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1 Sold. "First, demand of him how many horse the
duke is strong."
What say you to that?
Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak and un-
serviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the com-
manders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and
credit, and as I hope to live.

what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or
whether he thinks, it were not possible with well-
weighing sums of gold to corrupt him to a revolt."
What say you to this? what do you know of it?
Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular
of the intergatories: demand them singly.

1 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so?
Par. Do: I'll take my sacrament on't, how and which
way you will.

1 Sold. All's one to him.

Ber. What a past-saving slave is this!

1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumaine? Par. I know him: he was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the sheriff's fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could not say him, nay. [Dumaine lifts up his hand in anger.

Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though, I know, his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. 1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp?

Fr. Gent. Y' are deceived, my lord: this is monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, (that was his own phrase) that had the whole theorick of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger. Fr. Env. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have every thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly.

1 Sold. Well, that's set down.

Par. Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. Fr. Gent. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon.

Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said,-I will say true, or thereabouts, set down,-for I'll speak truth. Fr. Gent. He's very near the truth in this.

Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he
delivers it.

Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say.
1 Sold. Well, that's set down.
Par. I humbly thank you, sir.
the rogues are marvellous poor.

1 Sold. What is his reputation with the duke? Par. The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine, and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' the band: I think, I have his letter in my pocket.

A truth's a truth:

1 Sold. Marry, we'll search.

Par. In good sadness, I do not know: either it is there, or it is upon a file, with the duke's other letters, in my tent.

1 Sold. "Demand of him, of what strength they are a-foot." What say you to that?

1 Sold. Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I read it to you?

of

Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.

Ber. What shall be done to him?

Par. I do not know if it be it, or no.
Ber. Our interpreter does it well.
Fr. Gent. Excellently.

1 Sold. [Reads.] "Dian, the count's a fool, and full gold,'

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Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir: that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up again.

Fr. Gent. Nothing, but let him have thanks.Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the duke.

1 Sold. Well, that's set down. "You shall demand of him, whether one captain Dumaine be i' the camp, a Frenchman: what his reputation is with the duke,

1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour.

Par. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds. Ber. Damnable, both-sides rogue!

1 Sold. [Reads.] "When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;

After he scores, he never pays the score: Half won is match well made; match, and well make it: He ne'er pays after debts; take it before, And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this. Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss: For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it, Who pays before, but not where he does owe it. "Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear,

"PAROLLES." Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme in's forehead.

Fr. Env. This is your devoted friend, sir; the manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier.

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me.

1 Sold. I perceive, sir, by our general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you.

Par. My life, sir, in any case! not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live.

1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely: therefore, once more to this captain Dumaine.

You have answered to his reputation with the duke, and to his valour: what is his honesty?

Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking them he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool. Drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swinedrunk, and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing.

Fr. Gent. I begin to love him for this. Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! for me he is more and more a cat.

1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians, to belie him, I will not,-and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain.

Fr. Gent. He hath out-villained villany so far, that the rarity redeems him.

Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Dumaine?
Fr. Env. Why does he ask him of me?
1 Sold. What's he?

Par. E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreat he out-runs any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp.

1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine?

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Rousillon.

1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.

Par. [Aside.] I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the count, have I run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an ambush, where I was taken? 1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The general says, you, that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman; off with his head.

Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my death!

1 Sold. That shall you; and take your leave of all your friends. [Unmuffling him. So, look about you: know you any here? Ber. Good-morrow, noble captain. Fr. Env. God bless you, captain Parolles. Fr. Gent. God save you, noble captain.

Fr. Gent. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare you well.

[Exeunt BERTRAM, Frenchmen, &c. 1 Sold. You are undone, captain; all but your scarf, that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

1 Sold. If you could find out a country where but women were, that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, sir; I am for France too: we shall speak of you there.

[Exit.
Par. 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
As captain shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and Parolles, live
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's place and means for every man alive.
I'll after them.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.-Florence. A Room in the Widow's
House.

Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA.

Hel. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd
you,

One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne, 'tis needful,
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel.
Time was I did him a desired office,
Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth,
And answer, thanks. I duly am inform'd,
His grace is at Marseilles, to which place
We have convenient convoy. You must know,
I am supposed dead: the army breaking,
My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,
And by the leave of my good lord the king,
We'll be before our welcome.
Wid.
Gentle madam,

You never had a servant, to whose trust
Your business was more welcome.

Hel.
Nor you, mistress,
Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompense your love: doubt not, but heaven
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motive,
And helper to a husband. But O, strange men!
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away.
But more of this hereafter.-You, Diana,
Under my poor instructions, yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.

Dia.

Let death and honesty
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.
Hel.

Yet, I pray you:
But with the world the time will bring on summer,
When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns,
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away;
Our waggon is prepar'd, and time reviles us:
"All's well that ends well:" still the fine's the crown;

Fr. Env. Captain, what greeting will you to my Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

lord Lafeu? I am for France.

[Exeunt.

1

SCENE V.-Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS's pomp to enter: some, that humble themselves, may;

Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no; your son was misled with a snipttaffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed humblebee I speak of.

Count. I would I had not known him. It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever nature had praise for creating: if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love.

Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such another herb.

Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or, rather the herb of grace.

Laf. They are not pot-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.

Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass.

Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave, or a fool?

Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave

at a man's.

Laf. Your distinction?

but the many will be too chill and tender, and they'll be for the flowery way, that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.

Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.

Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.

Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.

Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.

Clo. At your service.

Laf. No, no, no.

Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks, which are their own right by the law of [Exit.

nature.

Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are.

Laf. Who's that? a Frenchman?

Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. Count. So a' is. My lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no place, but runs where he will.

Clo. Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his
phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there.
Laf. What prince is that?

Clo. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of
ness; alias, the devil.

Laf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lord, your son, was upon his return home, I moved the king, my master, to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose. His highness hath promised me to do it; and to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?

Count. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected.

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: a' will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

Count. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night: I shall beseech your lordship, to remain with me till they meet together.

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.

Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege. Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.

Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O, madam! yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under it, or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly dark-patch of velvet. His left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of: serve him still.

Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world; let the nobility remain in's court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for

Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so, belike, is that.

Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble soldier.

Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at every man. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Marseilles. A Street.
Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two
Attendants.

Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night,
Must wear your spirits low: we cannot help it;
But, since you have made the days and nights as one,
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
Be bold, you do so grow in my requital,
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time,

Enter a Gentleman, a Stranger. This man may help me to his majesty's ear, If he would spend his power.-God save you, sir. Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. Gent. I have been sometimes there.

Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen From the report that goes upon your goodness; And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions Which lay nice manners by, I put you to

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Not, indeed: He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste Than is his use.

Wid.

Lord, how we lose our pains!
Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.-
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.

Hel.
I do beseech you, sir,
Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it.
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent.
This I'll do for you.
Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again :—
Go, go, provide.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.-Rousillon. The inner Court of the
COUNTESS'S Palace.

Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, ill-favoured.
Par. 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.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir: I spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee farther.

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh! pr'ythee, stand away: a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.

Enter LAFEU.

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat) that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you. Let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.

Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word, then.-Cox' my passion! give me your hand.-How does your drum? Par. O, my good lord! you were the first that found me. Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's coming; I know by his trumpets.-Sirrah, inquire farther after me: I had talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat go to, follow.

Par. I praise God for you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The Same. A Room in the COUNTESS'S

Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords,
Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it; but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

Count.
'Tis past, my liege;
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.
King.

My honour'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all,
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.
Laf.
This I must say,-
But first I beg my pardon,-the young lord
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady,
Offence of mighty note, but to himself
The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd mistress.

King.
Praising what is lost
Makes the remembrance dear.-Well, call him hither.
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon:
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent.
I shall, my liege. [Exit Gentleman.
King. What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?
Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness.
King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters
That set him high in fame.

Laf.

sent me,

Enter BERTRAM.

He looks well on't.
King. I am not a day of season,
For thou may'st see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once; but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way: so stand thou forth;
The time is fair again.
Ber.
My high repented blames,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
King.
All is whole;
Not one word more of the consumed time.

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