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Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught: I know my business is but to the court.

Count. To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!

Ber. And so 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,-
Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-
Par. Right, so I say.

Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he, that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court: but, for me, I have an answer will serve all men.

Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions.

Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock. [tions? Count. Will your answer serve fit to all quesClo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pan-cake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin. Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?

Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands.

Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't: Ask me, if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clo. O Lord, sir,There's a simple putting off-more, more, a hundred of them."

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that

loves you.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-Thick, thick, spare not me. Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. [you. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Nay, put me to't, I warrant Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Spare not me. Count. Do you cry, O Lord, sir, at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed, your Ổ Lord, sir, is very sequent to your whipping; you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't.

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my-. O Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not

serve ever.

Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Why, there't serves well again. [this,

Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give Helen And arge her to a present answer back : Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son; This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them.

Count. Not much employment for you: You understand me?

Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III.-Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times.

Laf. That gave him out incurable,-
Par. Why, there 'tis ; so say I too.
Laf. Not to be helped,-

Par. Right: as 'twere a man assured of an-
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.

Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in,- -What do you call there?[actor. Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly Par. That's it I would have said; the very same. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier; 'fore I speak in respect

me,

Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most facinorous spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be Laf. Very hand of heaven. [thePar. Ay, so I say.

Laf. In a most weak

Par. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. Par. I would have said it; you say well: Here comes the king.

Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: Why, he's able to lead her a coranto.

Par. Mort du Vinaigre! Is not this Helen?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.

King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.-
Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
[Exit an Attendant.
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promis'd gift,
Which but attends thy naming.

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Heaven hath, through me, restor'd the king to health.
All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
Hel. I am a simple maid; and therein wealthiest,
That, I protest, I simply am a maid:
Please it your majesty, I have done already :
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,
We blush, that thou should'st choose: but, be refus'd,
Let the white death sit on
cheek for ever;
We'll ne'er come there again.
King.
Make choice; and, see,
Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now Dian, from thy altar do I fly;
And to imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream.-Sir, will you hear my suit?
1 Lord. And grant it.

Hel. Thanks, sir: all the rest is mute. Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw ames-ace for [eyes, life. my Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair

Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love! 2 Lord. No better, if you please. Hel. My wish receive, Which great love grant! and so I take my leave. Laf. Do they all deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of.

Hel. Be not afraid (to a Lord) that I your hand should take;

I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them.

:

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood.

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.

Laf. There's one grape yet,-I am sure, thy father drank wine.-But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. Hel. I dare not say I take you; (to Bertram) but I give Me, and my service, ever whilst I live, Into your guiding power.-This is the man. King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, she's thy wife. [highness, Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes.

King. Know'st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me? Ber. Yes, my good lord; But never hope to know why I should marry her. King. Thou know'st, she has rais'd me from my sickly bed.

My love, and her desert; that canst not dream,
We, poizing us in her defective scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam: that wilt not know,
It is in us to plant thine honour, where
We please to have it grow: Check thy contempt:
Obey our will, which travails in thy good :
Believe not thy disdain, but presently
Do thine own fortunes that obedient right,
Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims;
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever,
Into the staggers, and the careless lapse [hate,
Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and
Loosing upon thee in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity: Speak; thine answer.
Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit
My fancy to your eyes: When I consider,
What great creation, and what dole of honour,
Flies where you bid it, I find, that she, which late
Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
The praised of the king; who, so ennobled,
Is, as 'twere, born so.
King.

Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your rising? I know her well; She had her breeding at my father's charge: A poor physician's daughter my wife!-Disdain Rather corrupt me ever!

[which

King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the
I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty: If she be

All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone

Is good, without a name; vileness is so :
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;
And these breed honour; that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,
Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou can'st like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest: virtue, and she,

Is her own dower; honour, and wealth, from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st
strive to choose.
[glad;

Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am Let the rest go.

[feat,

King. My honour's at the stake; which to deI must produce my power: Here take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; That dost in vile misprision shackle up

Take her by the hand,
And tell her, she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoise; if not to thy estate,
A balance more replete.

Ber.

I take her hand. King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king, Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the new-born brief, And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.

[Exeunt King, Bertram, Helena, Lords, and Attendants.

Laf. Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. Par. Your pleasure, sir? [recantation. Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his Par. Recantation?-My lord? my master? Laf. Ay; is it not a language, I speak? Par. A most harsh one; and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master?

man.

Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousillon? Par. To any count; to all counts; to what is [of another style. Laf. To what is count's man; count's master is Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old.

Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee.

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou art scarce worth.

Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,

Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial;-which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.

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Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable | SCENE ĮV.—The same. Another Room in the same. vexation. Enter HELENA and Clown.

Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me [Exit.

leave.

Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double, and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of-I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

Re-enter LAFEu.

Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, there's news for you; you have a new mistress.

Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs: He is my good lord whom I serve above, is my master. Laf. Who? God?

Par. Ay, sir.

Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. [lord. Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords, and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtues gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit.

Enter BERTRAM.

Par. Good, very good; it is so then.-Good, very good; let it be concealed a while.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! Par. What is the matter, sweet heart? Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have I will not bed her. [sworn,

Par. What? what, sweet heart?

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me ;I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot: To the wars!

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the [import is,

I know not yet.
Par. Ay, that would be known: To the wars,
my boy, to the wars!

He wears his honour in a box unseen,
That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed: To other regions!
France is a stable; we, that dwell in't, jades;
Therefore, to the war!

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Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well? Clo. She is not well: but yet she has her health: she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'the world: but yet she is not well.

Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well? [things. Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly!

Enter PAROlles.

Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady!

Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave! How does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say. Pur. Why, I say nothing.

Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir. [thee. Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter. Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.Madam, my lord will go away to-night; The great prerogative and rite of love, A very serious business calls on him. [ledge; Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowBut puts it off by a compell'd restraint; [sweets, Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim.

Hel.
What's his will else?
Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the
king,

Strengthen'd with that apology you think
And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
May make it probable need.

Hel.

What more commands he? Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently Attend his further pleasure.

Hel. In everything I wait upon his will.
Par. I shall report it so.
Hel.

I pray you.-Come, sirrah. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Another Room in the same. Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted testimony.

Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.

Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the amity. Enter PAROlles. Par. These things shall be done sir. (To Ber.)

I would not tell you what I would: my lord'faith, yes;

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my
lord.

Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?-
Farewell.
[Exit Helena.
Go thou toward home; where I will never come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :--
Away, and for our flight.
Par.

Bravely, coragio!

[Exeunt.

Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? Par. Sir?

Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor.

Ber. Is she gone to the king? (Aside to Parolles.) Par. She is.

Ber. Will she away to-night?

Par. As you'll have her.

Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given orders for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride,— And, ere I do begin,

Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.-God save you, captain.

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?

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 leaped into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. [lord.

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. [Exit.

Par. An idle lord, I swear.
Ber. I think so.

Par. Why, do you not know him? [speech Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

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 desires Some private speech with you.

Ber.
I shall obey his will.
You must not marvel, Helena, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular: prepar'd I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,
Greater than shews itself, at the first view,
To you, that know them not. This to my mother:
(Giving a letter.)
"Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so

I leave you to your wisdom.
Hel.
Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel.
And ever shall,
With true observance, seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.

Ber.
Let that go:
My haste is very great: Farewell; 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 say, 'tis mine; and yet it is;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.

Ber.

What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much :-nothing,

indeed.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Florence. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two French Lords, and others.

Duke. So that from point to point, now have you The fundamental reasons of this war; [heard Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.

1 Lord.

Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer.

[France Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. 2 Lord. Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion: therefore dare not Say what I think of it; since I have found Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail As often as I guess'd.

Duke. Be at his pleasure. 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physic.

Duke.

Welcome shall they be ; And all the honours, that can fly from us, Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell: To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS and Clown.

Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that he comes not along with her.

Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you?

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song. Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. (Opening a letter.) Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no Count. What have we here? [stomach. [Exit.

Clo. E'en that you have there. Count. (Reads. I have sent you a daughter-inlaw: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold long distance. My duty to you.

Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king; To pluck his indignation on thy head, By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

SCENE 4.3

Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter?

Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd?

Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Save you, good madam. tlemen,Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gen. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, genI have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, That the first face of neither, on the start, [you? Can woman me unto't.-Where is my son, I pray 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of

Florence:

Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I,
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France,
That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I,
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord!
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to't;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 'twere,
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
That all the miseries, which nature owes, [sillon,
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rou-
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all; I will be gone:

My being here it is, that holds thee hence:
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
Come, night; end, day!
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear.
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. [Exit.
SCENE III.-Florence. Before the Duke's Palace.
Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BER-
TRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others.
Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and we,
Upon thy promising fortune.
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence

Ber.

We met him thitherward; from thence we came,
And, after some despatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.

[port.

Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my pass(Reads.) When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and shew me a child begotten of thy body, that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a never. This is a dreadful sentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
Ay, madam;
1 Gen.
And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains.
Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer;
If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety: He was my son;
But I do wash his name out of my blood,
And thou art all, my child.-Towards Florence is he?
2 Gen. Ay, madam.
Count.

And to be a soldier?

2 Gen. Such is his noble purpose: and, believ't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour, That good convenience claims.

Count. Find you that there?
Hel.

Sir, it is

A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake,
To the extreme edge of hazard.

Duke.

Count.

Return you thither?

1 Gen. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of

speed.

"Tis bitter.

[in France. Hel. (Reads.) Till I have no wife, I have nothing|

Then go thou forth;
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
As thy auspicious mistress!

This very day,
Ber.
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file:
[Exeunt.
Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall prove
A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
SCENE IV.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's

Palace.

Ay, madam. 1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, His beart was not consenting to.

[which

Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife!
There's nothing here, that is too good for him,
But only she; and she deserves a lord,
That twenty such rude boys might tend upon,
And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him?
1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I have some time known.

Enter Countess and Steward.

[done, Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her?

Read it again.
Might you not know, she would do as she has
By sending me a letter?

Stew. I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,

With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war,
My dearest master, your dear son, may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far,
His name with zealous fervour sanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping foes to live,
Where death and danger dog the heels of worth:
He is too good and fair for death and me;
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest
words!

Parolles, was't not?
[ness.
Count.
1 Gen. Ay, my good lady, he.
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wicked-
My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.

Indeed, good lady,
1 Gen.
The fellow has a deal of that, too much,
Which holds him much to have.

Count. You are welcome, gentlemen;
I will entreat you, when you see my son,
To tell him, that his sword can never win
The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you
Written to bear along.

We serve you, madam,
2 Gen.
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
Will you draw near? [Exeunt Count. and Gentleman.
Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.

Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus she hath prevented.

Stew.

Pardon me, madam
If I had given you this at over-night,
She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes
Pursuit would be in vain,

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