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Clo. Faith, Sir, he has an English name: but his phisnomy is more honour'd in France than there.

Laf. What Prince is that?

Clo. The black Prince, Sir, alias the Prince of Darkness, alias the Devil.

Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse; I give thee not this to seduce thee from thy Mafter thou talk it of, serve him ftill.

Clo. I'm a woodland fellow, Sir, that always lov'd 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's Court. I am for the House with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for Pomp to enter : fome, that humble themfelves, may; but the many will be too chill and tender, and they'll be for the flow'ry way that leads to rhe broad gate, and the great fire.

Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a weary of thee, and I tell thee fo before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways, let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks.

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

[Exit. Laf. A shrewed knave, and an unhappy. Count. So he is. My Lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him: by his 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


was upon turn home, I moy'd 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 promis'd me to do it; and to stop up the displeasure

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he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How do's your Ladyship like it?

Count. With very much content, my Lord, and I wish it happily effe&ted.

Laf. His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able a body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceiy'd by him that in such intelligence hath feldom fail'd.

Count. It rejoices me, that hope, that I shall see him ere I die. I have letters, that my son will be here !ò 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.

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't, 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.

Count. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour. So, belike, is that.

Clo. But it is your carbinado'd 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. * But it is your carbonado'd face.] Mr. Pope reads it carbinado'd, which is right. The Joke, such as it is, consists in the Allusion to a Wound made with a Carabine ; Arms, which Henry IV. had made famous, by bringing into Use amongst his Horsc.



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The Court of France, at Marseilles. Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants.


UT this exceeding posting day and night

Muft wear your spirits low; we cannot help it.
But since you've 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 Gentleman.
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,
Tho' time feem fo adverse, and means unfit:
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Roufillon,
Whither I'm going.

Hel. I beseech you, Sir,
Since you are like to see the King before me,
Commend this 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 fpeed
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This I'll do for you.

Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank’d, What-e'er falls more.

We must to horse again. Go, go, provide.



Changes to Rousillon.

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Enter Clown, and Parolles. Par. OOD Mr. Levatch, 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, mudJied 'in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's difpleasure is but suttilh, if it smell so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will henceforth eat no filh of fortune's butt'ring. Prythee, , allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, Sir; I fpake but by a metaphor.

Clo.. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose 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 clofe-ftool, to give to a Nobleman! look here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu. Here is a pur of fortune's, Sir, or fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat;) that hath fall'n 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 limilies of comfort, and leave him to your Lordship.

Par. My Lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd.

Laf. And what would you have me to do ? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you play'd the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good Lady, and would not have kr ves 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 fhall ha't, save your word.

Par. My name, my good Lord, is Parolles.
Laf. You beg more than one word then. Cox'

my paffion! give me your hand : how does your drum?

Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

Laf. Was I, insooth ? and I was the first that loft thee.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in fomc 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 Devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Sound Trumpets.] The King's coming, I know, by

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