ment of one count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, | I need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to but, for all that very ruttish: I pray you, Sir, put it up again.

1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. Par. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid: for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy; who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds.

Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue!

1 Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;

After he scores, he never pays the score: Half won, is match well made; mutch, and well make it ;*

He ne'er pays after debts, take it before; And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this, Men are to meli with, boys are not to kiss: For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it, Who pays before, but not when he does owe it, Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear, PAROLLES. Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme in his forehead.

2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, Sir, the manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier. Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me.

1 Sold. I perceive, Sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you.

Par. My life, Sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, Sir, in a dungeon, i'the stocks, or any where, so I may live.

1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this captain Dumain: You have answered to his reputation with the duke, and to his valour: What is his honesty?

Par. He will steal, Sir, an egg out of a cloister;t for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking them, he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, Sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swinedrunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, Sir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing.

1 Lord. I begin to love him for this.

Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he is more and more

a cat.

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Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu* he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. 1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Dumain?

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 1 Sold. What's he?

Par. E'en a crow of the same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: In a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp.

1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine?

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Rousillon.

1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure."

Par. I'll no more drumming: a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the count, have I run into this danger: Yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? [Aside.

1 Sold. There is no remedy, Sir, but you must die: the general says, you, that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head.

Par. O Lord, Sir; let me live, or let me see my death!

1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unmuffling him.

So look about you; Know you any here? Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain. 2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord Lafeu? I am for France.

1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fair you well. [Exeunt BERTRAM, LORDS, &c. 1 Sold. You are undone, captain: all but your scarf, that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

1 Sold. If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, Sir; I am for France too; we shall speak of you there.


Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were

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SCENE IV.-Florence.-A Room in the
WIDOW'S House.


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

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

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


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,


Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly la-
To recompense your love; doubt not, but
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

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, I 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.

Laf. 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 nar row 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, 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,



Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
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

speak of.


Count. I would, I had not known him! it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever nature had praise for creating: if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not

have owed her a more rooted love.

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

For mover. Lascivious. I. e. An honest death.
Il 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


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, moved the king my master, to speak in the behalf of my daugh ter; 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


Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected.

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles,

* I. c. Rue.

+Seduce. Mischievously unhappy, waggish.


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

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.



SCENE I-Murseilles-A Street.

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
Whate'er fails more.-We must to horse
Go, go, provide.

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


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 meta

Enter HELLENA, WIDOW, and DIANA, with two phor. Pr'ythee, get thee further.


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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 knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [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.

Par. 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 that 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 is.


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

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem*

Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home.+

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,

have forgiven and forgotten all;

Steals ere we can effect them: You remember The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 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,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying, That's good that's gone: our rash


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
Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to
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


King. Then shall we have a match. I have

letters sent me, That set him high in fame.


Laf. 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;


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

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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



Send forth your amorous token for fair MaudThe main consents are had; and here we'll stay To see our widower's second marriage-day. 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

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I stood engag'd:* but when I had subscrib'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honour
As she had made the overture, she ceas'd,
In heavy satisfaction, and would never
Receive the ring again.

* In the sense of unengaged.


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King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;

And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me, Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove [so ;That thou art so inhuman,-'twill not prove And yet I know not:-thou didst hate her deadly,

And she is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, More than to see this ring.-Take him away.— [Guards seize BERTRAM. My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, [him;Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with

We'll sift this matter further.

Ber. If you shall prove

This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was.

[Exit BERTRAM, guarded.


King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. Gent. Gracious sovereign, [not; Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath, for four or five removes, come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, Is here attending: her business looks in her With an importing visage; and she told me, In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor

maid is undone.


Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him: for this, I'll none of him. King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, [suitors:To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these Go, speedily, and bring again the count. [Exeunt GENTLEMAN, and some Attendants. I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd.

Count. Now, justice on the doers!

Enter BERTRAM, guarded.

King. I wonder, Sir, since wives are monsters to you,

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And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, [that? Yet you desire to marry.-What woman's Re-enter GENTLEMAN, with WIDOW, and DIANA.

Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capulet; My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied. Wid. I am her mother, Sir, whose age and honour

Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease without your remedy. King. Come hither, count; Do you know these women?

Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that know them: Do they charge me further? Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife?

Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
Dia. If you shall marry,

You give away this hand, and that is mine; You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;

You give away myself, which is known mine;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she, which marries you, must marry me,
Either both, or none.

Laf. Your reputation [To BERTRAM.] comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her.

Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, [highness Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour, Than for to think that I would sink it here.

King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill

to friend,

[honour, Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your Than in my thought it lies!

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
Dia. Good my lord,
He had not my virginity.

King. What say'st thou to her?
Ber. She's impudent, my lord;
And was a common gamester to the camp.f
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were

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* Decease, die.

+ Gamester when applied to a female, then meant a

common woman.

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