A very serious business calls on him. 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! The great prerogative and rite of love, Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the im-Whose want, and whose delay is strewed with sweets, I know not yet. Which they distil now in the curbed time, Par. Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, And pleasure drown the brim. to the wars! He wears his honour in a box unseen, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Ber. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house, - Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it'Tis hard; A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same. Another room in the same. Enter HELENA and Clown. 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? Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed,but for two things. Hel. What two things? Hel, What's his will else? Par. That you will take your instant leave o'the king, May make it probable need. 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. Hel. What more commands he? Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently 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, Hel. In every thing 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. 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. 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. Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing. To say no- Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and thing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have no-spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard; thing, 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 thon art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir. Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee. 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; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. 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? Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Ber. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helena, at my course, So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you, To you, that know them not. This to my mother! Ber. Let that go: My haste is very great. Farewell! hie home! Ber. Well, what would you say? Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth Iowe; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal Ber. What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much:- nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would: my lord — 'faith, - 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 heard Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. 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? Col. 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 [Opening a letter, means to come. 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 stomach. Count. What have we here? [Exit. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I 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 a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 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 come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Save you, good madam! Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gent. Do not say so! son was run away. Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, Count.Think upon patience!-'Pray you, gentlemen, 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 first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto't. -Where is my son, I pray you? 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Flo rence: We met him thitherward: from thence we came, Thither webend again. That all the miseries, which nature owes, Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, [Reads.]When thou canst get the ring upon my fing-Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, er, which never shall come off, and show 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? And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains. 2 Gent. Av, madam. Count. And to be a soldier? Towards Florence is he? 1 Gent. Tis but the boldness of his hand,haply, which His heart was not consenting to. 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 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman, Which I have some time known. Count. Parolles, was't not? 1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. As oft it loses all; I will be gone: Enter Countess and Steward. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Stew. Iam Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. 1 Gent. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen; 2 Gent. We serve you, madam, Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France, That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou With sainted vow my faults to have amended. words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, Stew. Pardon me, madam! If I had given you this at over-night, Count. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, SCENE V.-Without the walls of Florence. A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, MARIANA, and other Citizens. Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable service. Wid. It is reported, that he has taken their greatest commander, and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion. Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana! their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under; many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; but, I hope, your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty, which is so lost. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. Enter HELENA, in the dress of a pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.-Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another: I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound? Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Wid. Ay, marry, is it. -Hark you! [Amarch afar off. I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; Hel. How do you mean? May be, the amorous count solicits her And brokes with all that can in such a suit I Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Floren- That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; Hel. Which is the Frenchman? That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow; Dia. 'Tis pity, he is not honest. -Yond's that same knave, That leads him to these places; were I his lady, Hel. Which is he? Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy? Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'the battle. Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something: Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, Officers,and Soldiers. Wid. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents There's four or five, to great St Jaques bound, Already at my house. Hel. I humbly thank you: Please it this matron, and this gentle maid, To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking, Shall be for me; and, to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts on this virgin, Worthy the note. Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence. Enter BERTRAM, and the two French Lords. 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way! 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect. 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceived in him? 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertain ment. 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. Enter PAROLLES. 2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do: 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand. Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. 2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. 2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. Par. It might have been recovered. 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere 2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest. 2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt. I Enter HELENA and Widow. Hel. Nor would I wish you. Wid. I should believe you; You are great in fortune. Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of ser- Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it? Par.I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. Ber. I know, thou art valiant ; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. Par. I love not many words. . [Exit. 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares better be dam ned than to do't? Hel. Take this purse of gold, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, The bottom of your purpose. Hel. You see it lawful then. It is no more, |