1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. I would swear I recovered it. 1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. Par. A druns now of the enemy's! [Aside. [Aside. I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows: Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I was compell'd to her: but I love thee By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service. Dia. Ay, so you serve us, Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness. Ber. [Alarum within. I will discover that which shall undo How have I sworn? Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the truth; But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths, Ber. Change it, change it; Dia. I see that men make hopes in such affairs, Dia. Dia. [Exit, with Parolles guarded. 1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled, Till we do hear from them. Captain, I will. 2 Sold. 1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves ;Inform 'em that. 2 Sold. So I will, sir. 1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd. [Exeunt. SCENE IL-Florence. A room in the Widow's house. Enter Bertram and Diana. Ber. They told me, that your name was Fon- Dia. No, my good lord, Diana. Titled goddess; Dia. She then was honest. (1) i. e. Against his determined resolution never to cohabit with Helena. Ber. Here, take my ring: I'll order take, my mother shall not hear. When back again this ring shall be deliver'd : (2) The sense is-we never swear by what is not holy, but take to witness the Highest, the Divinity. are too old. Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee. Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou art scarce worth.. Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee, Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it. Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegrante; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords, and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. Par. Ay, that would be known: To the wars, my boy, to the wars! He wears his honour in a box unseen, Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home; will not bate thee a scruple. Par. Well, I shall be wiser. Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge; that I may say, in the default, he is man I know. 2 a Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. Spending his manly marrow in her arms, Ber. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house, Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Erit. Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis-I'll grace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age. than I would have of-I'H beat him, an if I could but meet him again. Re-enter Lafeu. Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure? young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: SCENE IV.-The same. Another room in the Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. Par. You had my prayers to lead them on: and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave! How does my old lady? Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say. Par. Why, I say nothing. Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. Par. Away, thou art a knave. Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir. Par. Goto, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee. Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter. Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.Madam, my lord will go away to-night; A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; But puts it off by a compell'd restraint; Which they distil now in the curbed time, Hel. What's his will else? Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the king, And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Hel. Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will. Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant. Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; pray you, make us friends. I will pursue the amity. Enter Parolles. Par. These things shall be done, sir. [To Bertram. Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor. Ber. Is she gone to the king? [Aside to Parolles. Par. She is. Ber. Will she away to-night? Par. As you'll have her. Ber. I have writ my letters, casketted my treasure, When I should take possession of the bride,— ter end of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds, Laf. A good traveller is something at the latand uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten. God save you, captain. Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure. and spurs, and all, like him that leap'd into the Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at this of me, There can be no kernel in this light his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him ot in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do [Exit. good against evil. Par. An idle lord, I swear. Par. Why, do you not know him? Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. Enter Helena. Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only, he desires Some private speech with you. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, SCENE V. Another room in the same. Enter Which holds not colour with the time, nor does I pray you.-Come, sirrah. Lafeu and Bertram. [Exeunt. Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier. Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. Ber. And by other warranted testimony. Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this dark for a bunting.2 (1) A specious appearance of necessity. (2) The bunting nearly resembles the sky-lark; Ber. The ministration and required off ce but has little or no song, which gives estimation to Greater than shows itself, at the first view, And ever shall Let that go: My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home. Well, what would you say? Ber. What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much:-nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would: my lord-'faith, yes; Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss. Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. And all the honours, that can fly from us, Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. Count. By what observance, I pray you? Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for [Exit. Count. What have we here? Clo. E'en that you have there. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-inlaw: she hath recovered the king, and undone me, Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ?-I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to Farewell. (Exit Helena. make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run Go thou toward home; where I will never come, away; know it, before the report come. If there Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum:-be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long Away, and for our flight. distance. My duty to you. Par. Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king; To pluck his indignation on thy head, By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire. Bravely, coragio! [Exe. ACT III. SCENE I.-Florence, A room in the Duke's The fundamental reasons of this war; 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom 2 Lord. Be it his pleasure. Re-enter Clown. Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter? Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be kill'd? he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter Helena and two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gent. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gen tlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our na- Can woman me unto't:-Where is my son, I pray ture,4 That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physic. Duke. (1) Possess. Welcome shall they be ; i. e. I cannot inform you of the reasons. 73) One not in the secret of affairs. (4) As we say at present, our young fellows. Thither we bend again. passport. [Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my a never. This is a dreadful sentence. That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Hel. Look on this letter, madam; here's my Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air, That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord! Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it; And, though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected. better 'twere, I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes, Were mine at once: no, come thou home, Rousillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all; I will be gone: Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? Ay, madam; Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, 2 Gent. [Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Nothing in France, until he has no wife! (1) i. e. When you can get the ring, which is or my finger, into your possession. (2) If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself. (3) In reply to the gentlemen's declaration, that they are her servants, the countess answers-10 My being here it is, that holds thee hence: [Exit. A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet Then go thou forth; SCENE IV.-Rousillon. A room in the Coun- her? Might you not know, she would do as she has done, That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, 5 |