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; 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 swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know bis 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.

1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians,-to belie him I will not,-and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain.

1 Lord. He hath out-villained villainy so far, that the rarity redeems him.

Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the feesimple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. [Dumain? 1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain 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 out-runs 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. [his pleasure. 1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know 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 you shall, 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 fare 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. [Exit.

Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this: Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall, simply the thing I am [gart, Shall make me live. Who knows himself a bragLet him fear this; for it will come to pass, That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! There's place, and means, for every man alive. I'll after them.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. Florence. A Room in the Widow's House.

Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA. 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 needful,
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 forth,
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 aiding,
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.

Nor you, mistress,

Hel. Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love; doubt not, but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, 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 hate, 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. Hel.

Yet, I pray you,——— But with the word, the time will bring on summer, When briars 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 crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's

Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata fellow there; whose villainous 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 I 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: 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? [his service. Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. [knave and fool.

Laf. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both 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, alias, 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 talk'st of; serve him still.

Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that alway 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 narrow 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, that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.

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 tricks.

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

a

Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with 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 balf, 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. [Exeunt.

Laf. A shrewd 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 my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved 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 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 it? Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected.

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

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,. 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.

Than is his use.

Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains! Hel. All's well that ends well, yet; Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.I do beseech you, whither has he gone? 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 thank'd, Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again;— Go, go, provide. [Exeunt.

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

Enter Clown and PAROLLES.

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 but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or 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 close-stool to give to a nobleman! 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 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, ingenions, 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. [single word. Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. Yon beg more than one word then.-Cox' my passion! give me your hand: How does your drum? [found me. Par. O my good lord, you were the first that 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 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's

Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

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,
I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
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 captive;
Whose dear perfection, hearts, that scorn'd to serve,
Hambly call'd mistress.

King. Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear.Well, call him bither;

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 highness.
That set him high in fame.
King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters
[sent me,

Laf.

Ber.

Enter BERTRAM.

He looks well on't.

For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail
King. I am not a day of season,
In me at once: But to the brightest beams
The time is fair again.
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth,
My high-repented blames,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
Not one word more of the consumed time.
King.
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
Steals, ere we can effect them: You remember
The daughter of this lord?

All is whole;

I stuck
Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first
my
choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
his scornful perspective did lend me,
Contempt
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:
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: But love, that comes too
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, [late,
Crying, That's good, that's gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
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 her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The 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 hea-
ven, bless!

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's

Enter BERTRAM, guarded.

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
Laf.
I am sure, I saw her wear it.
I
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it:
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
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.

King.
Plutus himself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you: Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
(Where you have never come,) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber.

She never saw it.

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
That thou art so inhuman,-'twill not prove so ;-
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,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him ;—
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. Enter a Gentleman.

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. Gent. Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not; 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.

DIANA CAPULET. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him for this, I'll none of him. [Lafeu, King. The heavens have thought well on thee, To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors: 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

doers!

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

And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry.-What woman's that?'

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?

Dia.

Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I 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. 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.

ture,

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 crea[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, [nour,

Till your deeds gain them:
Than in my thought it lies!
Dia.

Fairer prove your ho

Good my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
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.
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him: O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect, and rich validity,
Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

Count. He blushes, and 'tis it:
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife;
That ring's a thousand proofs.

King.

Methought, you said, You saw one here in court could witness it. Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles. Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. King. Find him, and bring him hither. Ber. What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd; Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth: Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter, That will speak any thing? King. She hath that ring of yours. Ber. I think, she has certain it is, I lik'd her, And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth: She knew her distance, and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her insuit coming with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; And I had that which any inferior might At market-price have bought. Dia,

I must be patient;

you,

Not fearing the displeasure of your master, (Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off,) By him, and by this woman here, what know you? Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.

King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love this woman?

Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her: But how?
King. How, I pray you?

Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves

a woman.

King. How is that?

command.

Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. King. As thou art a knave and no kuave:What an equivocal companion is this? Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's [orator. Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak, King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her, for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know.

Dia.

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: But thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside.This ring, you say, was yours? Ay, my good lord. King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. King. Who lent it you? Dia. It was not lent me neither. King. Where did you find it then? Dia. I found it not. King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? Dia.

I never gave it him. Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I

know.

King. Take her away.

Dia.
I'll put in bail, my liege.
King. I think thee now some common customer.
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this
while?

Dia. Because, he's guilty, and he is not guilty;
He knows, I am no maid, and he'll swear to't:
I'll swear, I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.
(Pointing to Lafeu.)
King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her.
Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-Stay, royal
sir;
[Exit Widow.
The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him :
He knows himself, my bed he hath defil'd;
And at that time he got his wife with child:
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick;
So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick:
And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter Widow with HELENA.

King. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is't real, that I see? Hel. No, my good lord: 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name, and not the thing. Ber. Both, both; O, pardon! Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, I found you wond'rous kind. There is your ring, And, look you, here's your letter: This it says, When from my finger you can get this ring, And are by me with child, &c.—This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you!O, my dear mother, do I see you living?

[clearly,

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon :Good Tom Drum, (to Parolles.) lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank thee; wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

King. Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow:If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,

(To Diana.) Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid, Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.Of that, and all the progress, more and less, Resolvedly more leisure shall express : All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. (Flourish.)

(Advancing.)

The king's a beggar, now the play is done: All is well ended, if the suit be won, That you express content: which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.

[Exeunt.