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your birth and virtue gives you commission. You are not worth another word, elle I'd call you knave. I
SCE N E
Par. Good, very good, it is so then. Good, ve- , ry good, let it be conceal'd a while.
Ber. Undone, and forfeited cares for ever!
Ber. Although before the folemn priest I've sworn,
Par. What? what, sweet heart !
Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me : I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot : to th' wars.
Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is, I know not yet..
Par. Ay, that would be known : to th’ wars, my
Ber. It shall be fo, I'll send her to my house,
Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ?
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go,
SCENE IX. Enter Helena and Clown.
Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health; she's very merry, but yet she is not well: but, thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'th' world; but yet
she is not well. Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well?
Cl.. 'Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two things.
Hel. What two things?
Clo. One, that she's not in heav'n, whither God send her quickly; the other, that she's in earth, from whence God fend her quickly!
Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good-will to have mine own good fortune.
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 fay.
Par. Why, I say nothing.
Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue speaks 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 ’rt a knave.
Glo. You should have faid, Sir, before a knare th'art a knave; that's, before me th’art a knave. This had been truth, Sir.
Par. Go to, 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,
ferious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowBut puts it off by a compellid reftraint :
Hel. What's his will else ?
Hel. What more commands he ?
Par. That having this obtain'd, you prefently
Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will.
[Exit Parolles. Hel. I pray you.----Come, firrah. [To Clown.
[Exeunt. SCENE X. Enier Lafeu and Bertram. Laf. But I hope your Lordship thinks not him a soldier.
Ber. Yes, my Lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.
Ber. I do assure you, my Lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valan.
Laf. I have then finnud against his experience, and tranfgress’d against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I canaor yet find in my hcart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the inity.
God save you,
Laf. O, I know him well; I, Sir, he, Sir, 's a good workman, a very good tailor.
Ber. Is she gone to the King ? [Afide to Parolles.
Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, given order for our horses; and to-night, when I should take poffeffion of the bride and ere I do begin
Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that Iyes three thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.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.
Laf. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leapt into the 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, tho' I took him at's prayers. Fare you well, my Lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut : the foul of this man is his cloaths. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence. I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewel, Monsieur ; I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand, but we must do good against evil. [Exit. Par. An idle Lord, I swear.Ber. I think so. Par. Why, do you not know him?
Ber. Yes, I know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
SCENE XI. Enter Helena.
Ber. I shall obey his will.
[Giving a letter.
Hel. Sir, I can nothing fay,
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel. And ever shall
Ber. Let that
Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon.
Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe :
deedI would not tell you what I would, my Lord—'faith,