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you there.

but women were, that had received so much shame, As captain shall : simply the thing I am you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, well, sir; I am for France too: we shall speak of Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,

[Erit. That every braggart shall be found an ass. Par. Yet am I thankful : if my heart were Rust, sword ! cool, blushes! and Parolles, live great,

Safest in shame! being foold, by foolery thrive! "Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; There's place, and means for every man alive. But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft

I'll after them.

[Erit.

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ACTIV. SCENE 3.- So, look about you

know you any here?

SCENE IV.-Florence. A Room in the Widow's Under my poor instructions, yet must suffer
House.

Something in my behalf.
Dia.

Let death and honesty
Enter HELENA, Widow, and Diana.

Go with your impositions, I am yours Hel. That you may well perceive I have not Upon your will to suffer. wrong' you,

Hel.

Yet, I pray you: One of the greatest in the Christian world

But with the word, the time will bring on summer, Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne, 'tis need When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns, ful,

And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel.

Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us : Time was I did him a desired office,

“ All's well that ends well:” still the fine's the Dear almost as his life; which gratitude

crown; Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. And answer, thanks. I duly am inform’d,

[Exeunt. His grace is at Marseilles, to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know,

SCENE V.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's I am supposed dead: the army breaking,

Palace.
My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,
And by the leave of my good lord the king,

Enter Countess, LAFEU, and Clown.
We'll be before our welcome.
Wid.
Gentle madam,

Laf. No, no, no; your son was misled with a You never had a servant, to whose trust

snipt-taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron Your business was more welcome.

would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth Hel.

Nor you, mistress, of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, To recompense your love : doubt not, but heaven more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, humble-bee I speak of. As it hath fated her to be my motive,

Count. I would I had not known him. It was And helper to a husband. But O, strange men! the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that That can such sweet use make of what they hate, ever nature had praise for creating: if she had parWhen saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts taken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play

of a mother, I could not have owed her a more With what it loathes, for that which is away. rooted love. But more of this hereafter.—You, Diana,

Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we

may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. another herb.

Count. So a'is. My lord, that's gone, made himClo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of self much sport out of him: by his authority. he the salad, or, rather the herb of grace.

remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave; they sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs are nose-herbs.

where he will. Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have Laf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was not much skill in grass.

about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave, death, and that my lord, your son, was upon his or a fool ?

return home, I moved the king, my master, to speak Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority at a man's.

of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious Laf. Your distinction ?

remembrance, did first propose. His highness Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do hath promised me to do it; and to stop up the dishis service.

pleasure he hath conceived against your son, there Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship

Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, like it? to do her service.

Count. With very much content, my lord; and I Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave wish it happily effected. and fool.

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, Clo. At your service.

of as able body as when he numbered thirty: a' will Laf. No, no, no.

be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve such intelligence hath seldom failed. as great a prince as you are.

Count. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him Laf. Who's that ? a Frenchman ?

ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here Clo. Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his to-night: I shall beseech your lordship, to remain phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there. with me till they meet together. Laf. What prince is that?

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners Clo. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of I might safely be admitted. darkness; alias, the devil.

Count. You need but plead your honourable Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee

I give thee privilege. not this to suggest thee from thy master thou Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; talkest of: serve him still.

but, I thank my God, it holds yet. Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever

Re-enter Clown. keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of Clo. O, madam! yonder's my lord your son with the world, let his nobility remain in's court. I am a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to under it, or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly be too little for pomp to enter: some that humble patch of velvet. His left cheek is a cheek of two themselves, may; but the many will be too chill and pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn tender, and they'll be for the flowery way, that leads | bare. to the broad gate, and the great fire.

Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; || livery of honour; so, belike, is that. and † tell thee so before, because I would not fall Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. out with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long looked to, without any tricks.

to talk with the young noble soldier. Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate be jades tricks, which are their own right by the fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow law of nature. (Erit. I the head, and nod at every man.

Ereunt

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AC

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.

Gent. And you.
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.

Not here, sir?
Gent.

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

[Ereur 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 wil henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr’ythee, allow the wind.

Þar. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir: I spake but 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.

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

Clo. Foh! pr’ythee, stand away: a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! 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 the unclean fishpond 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.

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!

(Erit Clown.

There's a quart d'ecu for you. Let the justices Laf. Was I, in sooth ? and I was the first that make you and fortune friends; I am for other lost thee. business.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one grace, for you did bring me out. single word.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon Laf. You beg a single penny more : come, you me at once both the office of God and the devil! shall ha't; save your word.

one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. out.— [Trumpets sound.]-The king's coming; I

Laf. You beg more than one word, then.—Cox' know by his trumpets.—Sirrah, inquire further my passion! give me your hand.—How does your after me: I had talk of you last night. Though drum?

you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat: go to. Par. O, my good lord ! you were the first that follow. found me.

Par. I praise God for you

(Exeunt.

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SCENE III.-The Same. A Room in the COUNTESS'S Extended or contracted all proportions,
Palace.

To a most hideous object. Thence it came,

That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom mosedi. Flourish. Enter King, Countess, LAFEU, Lords,

Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye Gentlemen, Guards, etc.

The dust that did offend it. King. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem King.

Well excus'd: Was made much poorer by it; but your son, That thou didst love her strikes some scores away As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know

From the great compt. But love, that comes the Her estimation home.

late, Count. 'Tis past, my liege;

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, And I beseech your majesty to make it

To the great sender turns a sour offence Natural rebellion, done i’ the blade of youth; Crying, that's good that's gone. Our rash faults When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, Make trivial price of serious things we have, ()’erbears it, and burns on.

Not knowing them, until we know their grave: King.

My honour'd lady, Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, I have forgiven and forgotten all,

Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust: Though my revenges were high bent upon him, Our own love, waking, cries to see what's done, And watch'd the time to shoot.

While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. Laf.

This I must say, - Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. But first I beg my pardon,—the young lord Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin: Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, The main consents are had; and here we'll stay Offence of mighty note, but to himself

To see our widower's second marriage-day. The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife,

Count. Which better than the first, O, deur Whose beauty did astonish the survey

heaven, bless! Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; Or, ere they meet, in me, 0 nature, cease! Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serve Laf. Come on, my son, in wbom my house's Humbly call'd mistress. King.

Praising what is lost Must be digested, give a favour from you, Makes the remembrance dear.–Well, call hiin To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, bither.

That she may quickly come.—By my old beard, We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill And every hair that's on't, Helen that's dead, I All repetition.—Let him not ask our pardon: Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this, The nature of his great offence is dead,

The last that, ere I took her leave at court, And deeper than oblivion we do bury

I saw upon her finger. The incensing relics of it: let him approach,

Ber.

Hers it was not. A stranger, no offender; and inform him,

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mi e So 'tis our will he should.

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eye, Gent. I shall, my liege.

While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.

[Erit Gentleman. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen. King. What says he to your daughter ? have I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood

you spoke ? Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high- I would relieve her. "Had you that craft to rent !

her King. Then shall we have a match. I have Of what should stead her most? letters sent me,

Ber.

My gracious sovereig. That set him high in fame.

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,

The ring was never hers.
Enter BERTRAM.

Count.

Son, on my life, Laf.

He looks well on't. I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it King. I am not a day of season,

At her life's rate. For thou may'st see a sunshine and a hail

Laf.

I am sure I saw her wear it. In me at once; but to the bright beams

Ber. You are deceiv'd: my lord, she never saw ... Distracted clouds give way: so stand thou forth; In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, The time is fair again.

Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Ber.

My high repented blames, Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

I stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'd King.

All is whole;

To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully Not one word more of the consumed time.

I could not answer in that course of honour Let's take the instant by the forward top,

As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees In heavy satisfaction, and would never Th'inaudible and noiseless foot of time

Receive the ring again. Steals, ere we can effect them. You remember King.

Plutus himself,
The daughter of this lord ?

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Ber.
Admiringly.

Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
My liege, at first

Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart

Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : That you are well acquainted with yourself

, Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, You got it from her. She callid the saints to sureti, Which warp'd the line of every other favour, That she would never put it from her finger, Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen,

Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,

ness.

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