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

understand me?

Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE III.-Paris. A room in the King's palace.

Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and 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. 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,-
Pur. Why, there 'tis; so say I too.
Laf. Not to be helped,-

Par. Right: as 'twere a man assured of an-
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.

Pur. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.

Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in,-What do you call there?

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 mistress

Fall, when love please!-marry, to each, but one! 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 blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, We blush, that thou should'st choose: but, be refus'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?

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; and I 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, he is a man I know.

Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable

vexation.

me leave.

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 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.

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 general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breathe 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 virtues gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit.

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. sworn, I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, sweet heart?

Ber. Omy 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

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-wicksy 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, and the detested wife.

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

me.

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

[Excunt.

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! Enter PAROLLES.

Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave! How does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say.

Par. Why, I say nothing.

Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing.

Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir.

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.

Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter.

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.-
Madam, my lord will go away to-night;
A very serious business calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,
Which, as your due, time claims, he does ac-
knowledge;

But puts it off by a compell'd restraint;
Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with

SCENE V.-Another room in the same. Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.

Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. Ber. And by other warranted testimony. Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.

Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the amity.

Given orders for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride,And, ere I do begin,

Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies threethirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.-God save you, captain.

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur ?

Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord.

Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you.

Ber. I shall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helena, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular: prepar'd I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,
Greater than shews itself, at the first view,
To you, that know them not. This to my mo-
ther:
[Giving a letter.

'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so
I leave you to your wisdom.

Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel. And ever shall,

With true observance, seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that go:

My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home. Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.

Ber. Well, what would you say?

Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe; Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own.

Ber. What would you have?

Hel. Something; and scarce so much :—nothing, indeed.

I would not tell you what I would: my lord'faith, yes;-.

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss. Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to

horse.

SCENE I.-Florence. A room in the Duke's palace.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attended; two French lords, and others.

Duke. So that from point to point, now have you heard

The fundamental reasons of this war;
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth,
And more thirsts after.

1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part; black and fearful
On the opposer.

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France

Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers.

2 Lord. Good my lord,

The reasons of our state I cannot yield,

But like a common and an outward man,

That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
Say what I think of it; since I have found
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.

Duke. Be at his pleasure.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature,

That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day,
Come here for physick.

Duke. Welcome shall they be ;
And all the honours, that can fly from us,
Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Rousillon. A room in the
Countess's palace.

Enter Countess and Clown. Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that he comes not along with her.