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,

[bour

Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly la-
To recompense your love; doubt not, but
heaven
[dower,
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's
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

Go with your impositions,§ I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.

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, 1 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.

Lof. 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.

Luf. 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; alius, 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.

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 his nobility remain in his court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I 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 But with the word, the time will bring on sum-leads to the broad gate, and the great fire. When briers 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

Hel. Yet, I pray you,

crown;

[mer,

Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.-Rousillon.—A Room in the COUN-

TESS' Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata 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 humble-bee I speak of.

Count. I would, I had not known him! it was the death of the most virtuous gentlevoman, that ever nature had praise for creatng: if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost ne the dearest groans of a mother, I could not 2ave owed her a more rooted love.

Luf. "Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady:

For mover. Lascivious. I. e. An honest death.
Commands.
End.

There was a fashion of using yellow starch for bands and ruffles, to which Lafeu alludes

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.

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

Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.‡ Count. So he is. My Lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him: by this 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 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

of as able body as when he numbered thirty; | I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
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. [Exeunt.

249

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,
[again;-
Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse
Go, go, provide.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II-Rousillon.-The inner Court of the COUNTESS' Palace.

Enter CLOWN and PAROLLles.

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 moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

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

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, Sir; I spake 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 further.

Pur. Pray you, Sir, deliver me this paper. from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Clo. Foh, pr'ythee, stand away: A paper 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 as he says, is muddied withal: Pray you, Sir, the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally comfort, and leave him to your lordship. knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of

[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.*

Pur. 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 tha! 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

* You need not ask:-here it

|

devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other
brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's
coming, I know by his trumpets.-Sirrah, in-
quire 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' Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, COUNtess, Lafeu,
LORDS, GENTLEMEN, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our es-
teem*

Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.t

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;

Steais ere we can effect them: You remember
[ACT V.
The daughter of this lord?

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first
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:

[away

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores
From the great compt: But love, that comes
too late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
Crying, That's good that's gone: our rash
To the great sender turns a sour offence,

faults

Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave.

Though my revenges were high bent upon him, Oft our displeasures to ourselves unjust,
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.

him hither;

Well, call

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 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 sent me, That set him high in fame.

Enter BERTRAM.

Luf. He looks well on't.

King. I am not a day of season,||

For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail
In me at once: But to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou
The time is fair again.

Ber. My high-repented blames,¶
Dear sovereign pardon to me.
King. All is whole;

[forth,

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

*Reckoning or estimate.

+ Completely, in its full extent.

So in As you like it :-to have "seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands."

I. e. The first interview shall put an end to all recol

lection of the past.

I. e. Of uninterrupted rain.

Faults repented of to the utmost.

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 Maud-
[lin:
To see our widower's second marriage-day.
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
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 iny house's

name

To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
Must be digested, give a favour from you,
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 e'er 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,

This ring was mine; and, when I gave it He-
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.-
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token

[len,

I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave her

Of what should stead her most?

Ber. My gracious sovereign,
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.

Count. Son, on my life,

At her life's rate.
I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it

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