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Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes safety: but the composition, that your valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good ming; and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses, as I cannot answer thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier ; in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, fo thou wilt be capable of courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou dieft in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away : farewel. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewel.

[Exit. SCENE IV. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heav’n. The fated sky Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love fo high, That makes me fee, and cannot feed mine


The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pain in sense; and do suppose,
What hath been, cannot be. Whoever strove
To fhew her merit, that did miss her love?
The King's disease-my project may deceive me,

my intents are fix’d, and will not leave me. [Exit.

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Changes to the court of Fronce. Flourish cornets. Enter the King of France with let

ters, and divers attendants.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th’ears ; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.

i Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir.

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King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it,
A certainty vouch'd from our cousin Austria;
With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

i Lord, His Love and wisdom, Approv’d so to your Majesty, may plead For ample credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer ;
And Florence is deny’d, before he comes :
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part,

2 Lord, It may well servé
A nursery to our gentry, who are fick
For breathing and exploit.
King. What's he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.
1 Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good Lord,
Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face.
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos d,thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris,

Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's.

King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father and myself in friendihip
First try'd our soldiership: he did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the brav'st. He lasted long;
But on us both did haggilh age iteal

And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father; in his youth
He had the wit which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour :
So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness
Were in him; pride or sharpness, if there were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,


Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exceptions bid him fpeak; and at that time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks;
Making them proud; and his humility,
In their poor praise, he humbled. Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would now demonstrate them

Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.

King. Would I were with him ! he would always say,
(Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them
To grow there, and to bear), Let me not live-
(Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of partir
When it was out), let me not live (quoth he)

my flame lacks oil; to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, wholc apprehenfive fenfes
All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions : this he wish'd.
I, after him, do after him wish too
(Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home)
I quickly were diffolved from my hive,
To give some labourer room.

2 Lord. You're loved, Sir;
They that least lend it you, shall lack you

first. King. I fill a place, I know’t, How long is't, Count, Since the physician at your father's died ? He was much fam’d,

Ber. Some six months since, my Lord.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet ;Lend me an arm ;

-the rest have worn me out With several applications ; nature and fickness Debate it at their leifure. Welcome, Count, My son's no dearer. Ber. Thank your Majesty.

[Flourish. Exeuns

tho' many

SCENE VI. Changes to the Countess's at Rousillon.

Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. Count. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my paft endeavours; for then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here ? get you gone, firrah: the complaints I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'tis my flowness that, I do not; for I know you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yare.

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.

Count. Well, Sir.
Clo. No, Madam ; 'tis not so well that I am poor,

of the rich are damn'd; but if I have your Ladyship’s good will to go to the world, Ilbel the woman and I will do as we may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ?
Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case ?

Clo. In Ilbel's case, and mine own; service is no heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue of my body; for they say, bearns are blessings. Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt

marry. Clo. My poor body, Madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your Worship’s reason ?

Clo. 'Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, Madam, a wicked creature, you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I de marry, that I may repent.

Gount. Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness.


Clo. I am out of friends, Madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's fake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave,

Clo. Y' are fallow, Madam, in great friends ; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am weary of. He that ears my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inne the crop. If I be his cuckold, he's my drudge. He that comforts my wife, is the cherither of my

feíh and blood; he that cherisheih my fleih and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my

ficih and blood, is my friend : ergo, he that kisses my wife, is my friend. If inen could be cortented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage : for young Charbon the Puritan, and old Poyfon the Papist, howfoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one; they may joul horns together, like any deer i'th' herd.

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave ?

Cl. A prophet, I, Madam; and I speak the truth the next way. “ For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true

65 shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckow sings

by kind. Count. Get you gone, Sir, I'll talk with you more


Stew. May it please you, Madam, that he bid Helen come to you ; of her I am to speak.

Count, Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth me,

[Singing: Why the Grecians sacked Troy? “ Fond done, fond done; for Paris, he, " Was this King Priam's joy. " With that she sighed as she stood, “ And gave this sentence then ;

Among nine bad if one be good, 6. There's yet one good in ten.

Count. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, firrah, Vol. III.


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