Ast.

Not here, sir?

of nature.

Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law [Exit. 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; 't is 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; 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..

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

I do beseech you, sir,

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

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. Prithee allow the wind.

Count. You need but plead your honourable 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 't is 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. [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 gentle Astringer.

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

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Ast. 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.

Ast.

What's your will? Hel. That it will please you To give this poor petition to the king;

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

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. tune's close-stool to give to a nobleinan! Look, Clo. Foh, prithee stand away; A paper from forhere 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 died withal: Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; fish-pond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is mudfor he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 't is 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. [word.

Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single 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 word then.-Cox' my passion! give me your hand: How does your drum? Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found [thee. Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.

me.

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.

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.

'T is 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 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

[bless!

Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested, give a favour from you,
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. By my old beard,
And every hair that 's on 't, Helen, that 's dead,
Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this,
The last that ere I took her leave at court,

I saw upon her finger. Ber. Hers it was not.
King. Now, pray you, let me see it for mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to it.-
This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token

Ber.

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
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 't is our will he should.
Gent.

him

I shall, my liege. [Exit. 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.
[sent me

My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. King.

All is whole;

Not one word more of the consumed time.
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:
Our own love waking cries to see what 's done,
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:

Count. Son, on my life,

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
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: 't was mine, 't was Helen's,
Whoever gave it you: Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 't was 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,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
(Where you have never come,) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster. Ber. She never saw it.
King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine

honour,

And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,-'t will 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.

Ber.

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.
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. [Ex. Ber., guarded.
Enter the Astringer.

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Ast.
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 vows 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?

you,

And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry.-What woman 's that?
Re-enter the Astringer, 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
Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny [women?
But that I know them: Do they charge me further?
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife?
Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
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 by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you must marry me,
Either both or none.

Laf. Your reputation [to Bertram] comes too short
for my daughter: you are no husband for her.
Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your high-

ness

Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,
Than for to think that I would sink it here. [friend,
King, Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to
Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your honour,
Than in my thought it lies! Dia. 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 't is his:

Of six preceding ancestors, that gem
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath it been cw'd and worn. This is his wife;
That ring's a thousand proofs.
King.

Methought, you said,
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.
Ber.

What of him? 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 anything? 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;

Dia.

I must be patient; You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, I pray you yet, May justly diet me. (Since you lack virtue I will lose a husband,) Send for your ring, I will return it home, Ber. I have it not. And give me mine again. King. What ring was yours, I pray you? Dia. Sir, much like the same upon your finger. King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.

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.

Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts Is this the man you speak of? [you.Dia. Ay, my lord. King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge Not fearing the displeasure of your master, [you, (Which, on your just proceeding I'll keep off,) By him, and by this woman here, what know you? 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?
[woman.
Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a
King. How is that?

Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
King. As thou art a knave, and no knave :-What
an equivocal companion is this!

Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command. [orator. Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty 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 which 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?

Dia.

I found it not.
King. If it were yours by none of all these ways,
How could you give it him?
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.

King. Take her away.
Dia.
I'll put in bail, my liege.
King. I think thee now some common customer.
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 't was you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this

while?

Dia. Because he 's guilty, and he is not guilty:
He knows I am no maid, and he 'll swear to't:
I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;

I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.
[Pointing to Lafeu.
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,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
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.

King.

Re-enter Widow, with Helena.

Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is 't real that I see? Hel. No, my good lord; 'T is but the shadow of a wife you see, The name, and not the thing. Ber.

Both, both; O, pardon! Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, I 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 handker-
chief: 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 kep'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.

(Advancing.)

[Flourish.

The king's a beggar, now the play is done : All is well ended, if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeunt.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending. Duke. If music be the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again;-it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.-Enough; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

Of what validity and pitch soe'er,

But falls into abatement and low price,

no more;

Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone is high-fantastical.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord?

Duke.

What, Curio?

Cur. The hart.

The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
And water once a day her chamber round
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
Those sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
(Her sweet perfections,) with one self king!-
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Sea-coast. Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors. Vio. What country, friends, is this? Cap. This is Illyria, lady. Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. [sailors? Perchance he is not drown'd:-What think you, Cap. It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, may [chance,

he be.

Cap. True, madam; and, to comfort you with Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and those poor number sav'd with you,