Enter Parolles. Par. These things fhall be done, Sir. Laf. I pray you, Sir, who's his taylor? Laf. OI know him well, I, Sir, he fits a good workman, a very good taylor. Ber. Is the gone to the King? Par. She is. Ber. Will the away to-night? Par. As you'll have her. [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 lyes three thirds, and ufes a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, fhould be once heard and thrice beaten---- God fave you captain. Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, Monfieur ? 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 cuftard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than fuffer queftion for your refidence. Ber. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do fo 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 clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy confequence: I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewel, Monfieur, I have fpoken spoken better of you, than you have or will deferve at my hand, but we must do good against evil. Par. An idle lord, I fwear. Ber. I think fo. Par. Why, do you not know him? [Exit. Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common fpeech gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. SCENE XI. 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 defires Some private speech with you. Ber. I fhall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, On my particular. Prepar'd I was not To you that know them not. This to my mother. 'Twill be two days ere I fhall fee you, fo I leave you to your wisdom. Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, [Giving a letter. But that I am your most obedient servant. Ber. Come, come, no more of that. Hel. And ever shall With true observance feek to eke out that Wherein tow'rd me my homely stars have fail'd Ber. Let that go: My hafte is very great. Farewel; hie home. Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon. Ber. Well, what would you say? Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I fay 'tis mine, and yet is; But, like a tim'rous thief, moft fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. Ber. What would you have? Hel. Something, and scarce fo much---- nothing indeed-- Ber. I pray you ftay not, but in haste to horse. Where are my other men? Monfieur, farewel. Ber. Go thou tow'rd home, where I will never come, [Exit. Whilst I can shake my fword, or hear the drum: ACT III. SCENE I. FLORENC E. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, two French Lords, with Soldiers. S DUKE. O that from point to point now have you heard Whose great decifion hath much blood let forth, 1 Lord. Holy feems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; but black and fearful On the opposer. Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our coufin France 2 Lord. Good my Lord, The reasons of our ftate I cannot yield, Duke. Be it his pleasure. 2 Lord. But I am fure the younger of our nation, That surfeit on their eafe, will day by day Come here for phyfick. Duke. Welcome shall they be: And all the honours that can fly from us, Shall on them fettle. You know your places well. To-morrow to the field. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Changes to Roufillon in France. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. The comes not along with her. 'T hath happen'd all as I would have had it, save that Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very me lancholy man. Count. By what obfervance, I pray you? Clo. Why he will look upon his boot, and fing; mend his ruff, and sing; ask questions, and fing; pick his teeth, and fing. I knew a man that had this trick of melancholy, fold a goodly manor for a song. Count. Let me fee what he writes, and when he means to come. Clo. I have no mind to ling, and our Isbels o'th' ling, and your Isbels o'th' knock'd out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no ftomach. Isbel fince I was at court. Our old country, are nothing like your old court: the brain of my Cupid's Count. What have we here? Clo. In that you have there. Countess reads a letter. [Exit. I have fent you a daughter-in-law: he hath recovered the King, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and fworn |