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ne, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and e him as he uses thee: so, farewell. [Exit. 23 Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, hich we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky ves us free scope, only doth backward pull r slow designs when we ourselves are dull, hat power is it which mounts my love so high, at makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? he mightiest space in fortune nature brings join like likes and kiss like native things. possible be strange attempts to those at weigh their pains in sense and do suppose What hath been cannot be who ever strove show her merit, that did miss her love? e King's disease-my project may deceive me, t my intents are fix'd and will not leave me.
Flourish of cornets.
The KING's palace.
SCENE II. Paris.
King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
First Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.
King. Nay, tis most credible; we here receive it
He hath arm'd our answer,
d Florence is denied before he comes :
What's he comes here?
Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, ung Bertram.
King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
So like a courtier : contempt nor bitterness
To grow there and to bear,-"Let me not live,"
This his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out," Let me not live," quoth he
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
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 sayMethinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
I after him do after him wish too,
I nor wax nor honey can bring home, ckly were dissolved from my hive,
ve some labourers room.
You are loved, sir; that least lend it you shall lack you first. ng. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count, e the physician at your father's died? as much famed.
Some six months since, my lord. ng. If he were living, I would try him yet. me an arm; the rest have worn me out several applications: nature and sickness te it at their leisure. Welcome, count; son's no dearer.
Thank your majesty.
SCENE III. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.
Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown.
unt. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlean?
ew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, sh might be found in the calendar of my past endeas; for then we wound our modesty and make foul the rness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish
ount. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah : complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe: 'tis slowness that I do not; for I know you lack not folly commit them, and have ability enough to make such veries yours.
lo. "Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fel
ount. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
lo. I do beg your good will in this case.
ount. In what case?
ount Well, sir.
lo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though y of the rich are damned: but, if I may have your ship's good will to go to the world, Isbel he woman I will do as we may.
Service is no heri.
lo. In Isbel's case and mine own. e: and I think I shall never have the blessing of God I have issue o' my body; for they say barnes are bless
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?
Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such 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. 40
Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clo. You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist, howsome'er their hearts are several in religion their heads are both one; they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.
Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? 61
Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:
For I the ballad will repeat,
Which men full true shall find;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
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.
Was his fair face the cause, quoth she,
Was this King Priam's joy?
Ainong nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.
Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song,
Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purify.
Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and yet
Count. Well, now.
Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman encely.
Count. Faith, I do her father bequeathed her to me; d she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully ake title to as much love as she finds: there is more ving her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than e'll demand.
Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than I think e wished me alone she was, and did communicate to erself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I re vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. er matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, as no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt eir two estates; Love no god, that would not extend his ight, only where qualities were level; Dian no queen of irgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised, withut rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This he delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I card virgin exclaim in which I held my duty speedily to cquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, concerns you something to know it.
Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep it to ourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance that I could neither elieve nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in our bosom; and I thank you for your honest care: I will peak with you further anon. [Exit Steward