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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 Dumain ?

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 1 Sold. What's he?

Par. E'en a crow of 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. 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 ?

[Aside. 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, headsmen, off with his head.

My husband hies him home; where, heaven aid-
And by the leave of my good lord the king, [ing,
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 loaths, 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 I am yours

Go with your impositions,
Upon your will to suffer.
Hel.
Yet, I pray you,
But with the word, 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 revives us :
All's well that ends well still the fine's the crown;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
[Exeunt.

Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my SCENE V.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's 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. 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain.

2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord Lafeu? I am for France.

1 Lord. 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, Lords, &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 bragLet 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.

[gart,

[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,

Palace.

Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.

Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata fellow there; whose villainous saffron I would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-inlaw had been alive at this hour; and your son here at home more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed humble-bee 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 salad-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 ?

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

Clo. At your service. Laf. No, no, no.

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

Laf. Who's that? a Frenchman ?

Clo. Faith, sir, he 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 darkness; alias, the devil.

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

f

Enter a gentle Astringer.

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 This man may help me to his majesty's ear, the world, let his nobility remain in his court. IIf he would spend his power.-God save you, sir am for the house with the narrow gate, which I Gent. And you. take to be too little for pomp to enter: some, that humble themselves, may; 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

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Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. Count. So he 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 pace, but runs where he will.

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 promis'd 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?

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
The use of your own virtues, for the which
I shall continue thankful.
Gent.

What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you
To give this poor petition to the king;
And aid me with that store of power you have,
To come into his presence.
Gent. The king's not here.

Hel.
Gent.

Not here, sir?

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:

Count. With very much content, my lord, and II will come after you, with what good speed
wish it happily effected.
Our means will make us means.
Gent.

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he 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 patch of velvet. his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. 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.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

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;-

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.

this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

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

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

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

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

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

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 fish-pond 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 | Not one word more of the consumed time. make you and fortune friends; I am for other bu

siness.

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 further 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.

Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them: You remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object: Thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.
King.
Well excus'd:
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: But love, that comes too
late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying, That's good that's gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:

Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, Lords, Our own love waking cries to see what's done,

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 do we bury
The incensing relicks of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

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While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.

Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!

Or, ere they meet in me, O nature, cease!

Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's

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Laf.

I am sure, I saw her wear it. Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it. In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd: but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King. Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, Hath not in nature's mystery more science, Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, Whoever gave it you: Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety, That she would never put it from her finger,

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And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,-'twill not prove so;-
And yet I know not :-thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring.-Take him away.-
[Guards seize Bertram.
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him;-
We'll sift this matter further.

Ber.

If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was. [Erit Bertram, guarded.
Enter a Gentleman.

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gent.
Gracious sovereign,
Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not;
Here's a petition from a Florentine,

Who hath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending her business looks in her
With an importing visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to
marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it,
he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widower
his rows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid
to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave,
and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant
it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise a sedu-
cer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.
Diana Capulet.

Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him for this, I'll none of him.

King. The heavens have thought well on thee,
Lafeu,

To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors:
Go, speedily, and bring again the count.

[Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.
I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.
Count.

Now, justice on the doers !
Enter Bertram, guarded.

King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to

you,

And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?

Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow, and Diana.
Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet;
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedy.
King. Come hither, count; Do you know these
women?

Ber. My lord, I neither can, nor will deny
But that I know them: Do they charge me further?
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your
Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
wife?
Dia.

If you shall marry,
You give away this hand, and that is mine;
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
You give away myself, which is known mine;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,

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Dia.

Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your ho.
Than in my thought it lies!
[nour,
Good my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.
King. What say'st thou to her ?

Ber.
She's impudent, my lord;
And was a common gamester to the camp.

Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price :
Do not believe him: O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect, and rich validity,
Did lack a parallel; yet for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

Count.

He blushes, and 'tis it:

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You saw one here in court could witness it.
Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles.
Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he be.
King. Find him, and bring him hither.
What of him?

Ber.

He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd,
Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth:
Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter,
That will speak any thing?

King.
She hath that ring of yours.
Ber. I think, she has certain it is, I lik'd her,
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
Her insuit coming with her modern grace,
Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
And I had that whic. any inferior might
At market-price have bought.

Dia.
I must be patient;
You, that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,
(Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband,)
Send for your ring, I will return it home,
And give me mine again.

Ber.

I have it not.
King. What ring was yours, I pray you?
Sir, much like
[late.

Dia.

The same upon your finger.
King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of
Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.
King. The story then goes false, you threw it him
Out of a casement.

Dia. I have spoke the truth.

Enter Parolles.

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Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.

King. Come, come, to the purpose. Did he love this woman?

Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her; But how?
King. How, I pray you?

King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with

her.

Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-Stay, royal sir; [Exit Widow. The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself,

Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:

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orator.

Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her, for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know. King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: But thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside.This ring, you say, was yours?

Dia.

Ay, my good lord. King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. King. Who lent it you? Dia. It was not lent me neither. King. Where did you find it then? I found it not. King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? Dia.

Dia.

I never gave it him. Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I

know.

King. Take her away, I do not like her now; To prison with her: and away with him.Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour.

Dia.

I'll never tell you.

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He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd;
And at that time he got his wife with child:
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick;
So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick;
And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter Widow, with Helena.

Is there no exorcist

King. Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is't real, that I see? No, my good lord; 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name, and not the thing.

I

Hel.

Ber.

Both, both; O, pardon! Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid,

found you wond'rous kind. There is your ring, And, look you, here's your letter; This it says, When from my finger you can get this ring, And are by me with child, &c. This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,

I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you !_ O, my dear mother, do I see you living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon:-Good Tom Drum, [to Parolles.] lend me a handkerchief:-So, I thank thee; wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

King. Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow :If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,

[To Diana. Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid, Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.Of that and all the progress, more and less, Resolvedly more leisure shall express: All yet seems well; and, if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

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