The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

If she refuse me :-and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.

[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd-boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.
Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him,
Methought, he was a brother to your daughter:
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born,
And hath been tutor❜d in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.

Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.

Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all!

Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman, that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a courtier, he swears.

avoid, but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too,
with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take
up a quarrel; but when the parties were met themsel-
ves, one of them thought but of an If, as, If you said
so, then I said so; and they shook hands, and swore
brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much
virtue in If.

Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. laq. And how was that ta'en up?

Touch. 'Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.

Jaq. How seventh cause?-Good my lord, like this fellow.

Duke S. Ilike him very well.

Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good
at any thing, and yet a fool.

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and
under presentation of that, he shoots his wit.
Enter HYMEN, leading ROSALIND in woman's clothes;
and CELIA.

Touch. God'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks.-A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor kumour of mine, sir, to take that, that no man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster.

Duke S.By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.

Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?

Still Music.

Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even

Atone together.

Good duke, receive thy daughter,
Hymen from Heaven brought her,

Yea brought her hither ;

That thou might'st join her hand with his,
Whose heart within her bosom is.

Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To Duke S.
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
[To Orlando.
DukeS.If there be truth in sight,you are my daughter.
Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
Phe. If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love, adieu!

Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he:

[To Duke S.
I'll have no husband, if you be not he:- [To Orlando.
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. [To Phebe.
Hym. Peace, ho! Ibar confusion:

Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed;-Bear your body more seeming, Audrey ::-as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said, his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: this is called the Retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the Quip modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: this is called the Reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the Reproof valiant. Ifagain, it was not well cut, ke would say, Ilie: this is called the Countercheck quarrelsome: and so to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie direct.

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well

cut?

Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie circumstantial; nor he durst not give me the Lie direct; and so we measured swords, and parted.

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?

'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part:

[To Orlando and Rosalind.

You and you are heart in heart:

[To Oliver and Celia.
You [To Phebe] to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord :-
You
and you are sure together,

[To Touchstone and Audrey.
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
SONG.

Wedding is great Juno's crown ;

Oblessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honoured:
Honour, high honour and renown,
To Hymen, god of every town!
Duke S. O, my dear niece, welcome thou art to me;
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

Phe. I will not eat my word: now thou art mine;
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. [To Silvius.
Enter JAQUES DE BOIS.

Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two! I am the second son of old sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly: Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, as Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day you have books for good manners. I will name you Men of great worth resorted to this forest, the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous; the se- Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, cond, the Quip modest; the third, the Reply churlish; In his own conduct, purposely to take the fourth, the Reproof valiant; the fifth, the Counter- His brother here, and put him to the sword: check quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with circum- And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; stance; the seventh, the Lie direct. All these you may Where, meeting with an old religious man,

After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprize and from the world:
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restor❜d to them again,
That were with him exil'd. This to be true,
I do engage my life.

Duke S. Welcome, young man!

Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding:
To one, his lands withheld; and to the other,
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.
First, in this forest, let us do those ends,
That here were well begun, and well begot;
And after, every ofthis happy number,
That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us,
Shall share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity,
And fall into our rustic revelry:—

Play, music;-and you, brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall!
Jaq. Sir, by your patience; if I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life,

And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He hath.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.-
You to your former honour I bequeath; [To DukeS.
Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it:
You [To Orlando] to a love that your true faith doth

merit:

You To Oliver to your land,and love, and great allies:
You [To Silvius] to a long and well-deserved bed :-

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play, as please them: and so I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that, between you and the women, the play may please. Ifl were a woman, would kiss as many of you,as had beards,that pleased me, complexions, that liked me, and breaths, that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

A Page,

Countess of Rousillon, mother to Bertram.
HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the countess.
An old Widow of Florence.

DIANA, daughter to the widow.

VIOLENTA,
MARIANA,

neighbours and friends to the widow.

Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, etc. French and Florentine.

SCENE, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

A C T I. Rousillon. A room in the Count's palace. Enter BERTRAM, the Countess of Rousillon, HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.

Ber. And J, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father. He, that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up, where it wanted, rather than lack it, where there is such abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam, under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0, that had! how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great, as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease.

Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam? Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourningly: Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge
could be set up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?
Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Was this

Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would, it were not notorious. gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? Count. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her, they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her

tears.

Enter PAROLles.

One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look leak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen!
Hel. And you, monarch!
Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?
Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let
me ask you a question: Man is enemy to virginity; how
may we barricado it against him?
Par. Keep him out.

resistance!

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant
praise in. The remembrance of her father never ap-in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike
proaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows
takes all livelihood from her check. No more of this,
Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought, you
affect a sorrow, than to have.

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?
Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy
father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue,
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech! What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell!-My lord,
'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him!

Laf. He cannot want the best,

That shall attend his love.

Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?

Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature,to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost. That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion, away with it!

Count. Heaven bless him! - Farewell, Bertram!
[Exit Countess.
Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your
thoughts, [To Helena] be servants to you! Be com-
fortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much

of her!

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady! You must hold the credit
of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.
Hel. O, were that all!—I think not on my father:
And these great tears grace his remembrance more,
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?

I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me :
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Par. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is a virgin; virginity murders itself, and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with't! Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. Let me see! Marry, ill, to like him, that ne'er it likes.'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request! Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear. Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,

A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,

A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,

A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptions christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
I know not what he shall. - God send him well!
The court's a learning-place; - and he is one ―
Par. What oue, i'faith?

Hel. That I wish well. - 'Tis pity-
Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt: that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think; which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter a Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
[Exit Page.
Par. Little Helen, farewell! if I can remember thee,
I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a cha-
ritable star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

1 Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely they have leave
To stand on either part.

2 Lord. It may well serve

A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.

King. What's he comes here?

Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris!
Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;

needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I, think, rather.
Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight.
Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety but the composition,that your valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee, acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell! When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewell!

[Exit.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. What power is it, which mounts my love so high? That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts, to those That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose, What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove To show her merit, that did miss her love? The king's disease-my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. [Exit.

SCENE II.-Paris. A room in the King's palace. Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters; Lords and others attending. King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.

1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us

But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father. In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute, when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him,
He us'd as creatures of another place;
Aud bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times,
Which, follow'd well, would démonstrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, sir,

Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.

King.'Would I were with him! He would always say,
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there, and to bear,)-Let me not live,-
Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out,-let me not live, quoth he,
After my jiame lacks oil,to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgements are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions! - This he wish'd:
I, after him, do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.

2 Lord. You are loved, sir;

They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first.
King. I fill a place, I know't. - How long is't, count,
Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much fam'd.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown.
Count. I will now hear: what say you of this gentle-
woman?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your con-
tent, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past
endeavours; for then we wound our modesty, and
make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of
ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone,
sirrah! The complaints I have heard of you, I do not
all believe; 'tis my slowness, that I do not: for, I know,
you lack not the folly to commit them, and have abi-
lity enough to make such knaveries yours.

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor
fellow.

Count. Well, sir.

Count.Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.
Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen
come to you: of her I am to speak.

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak
with her; Helen I mean.

Clo.Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,[Singing.
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond done, done fond,

Was this king Priam's joy.
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then ;
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.

Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song,
sirrah!

Clo.One good woman in ten, madam; which is a puri-
fying o'the song. 'Would God would serve the world
so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-wo-
man, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! an we
might have a good woman born but every blazing star,
or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a
man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one.
Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I com-
mand you?

Clo. No,madam,'tis not so well that I am poor,though Clo. That man should be at woman's command,and yet
many of the rich are damn'd: but if I may have your no hurt done! - Though honesty be no puritan, yet it
ladyship's good-will to go to the world, Isbel the wo-will do no hurt ; it will wear the surplice of humility
man and I will do as we may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case?

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. Service is no
heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the blessing
of God, till I have issue of my body; for, they say,
bearns are blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason, why thou wilt marry.
Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven
on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil
drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason?

over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth:
the business is for Helen to come hither. [Exit Clown.
Count. Well now.

Stew.I know,madam, you love your gentlewoman en-
tirely.

Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and more shall be paid her, than she'll demand.

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears;

Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.

stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virCount. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. gin exclaim in: which I held my duty, speedily to acClo. You are shallow, madam ; e'en great friends; for quaint you withal;sithence,in the loss that may happen, the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a-weary it concerns you something to know it. of. He, that ears my laud, spares my team, and gives Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep it me leave to inn the crop : ifI be his cuckold, he's my to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this be drudge. He, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of fore, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I my flesh and blood; he, that cherishes my flesh and could neither believe, nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave blood, loves my flesh and blood; he, that loves my flesh me: stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your and blood, is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife, honest care: I will speak with you further anon. is my friend.If men could be contented to be what they are,there were no fear in marriage; for youngCharbon, the puritan,and old Poysam, the papist,howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion their heads are both one, they may joll horns together, like any deer i't he herd. Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave?

[Exit Steward.

Enter HELENA.
Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young:
If we are nature's, these are ours: this thorn
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;
Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,

Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth:

By our remembrances of days foregone,

Such were our faults;-or then we thought them none.
Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now.
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
Count. You know, Helen,

« Previous Continue »

Books