withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, There shall your master have a thousand loves, His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity Par. What's pity? Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, 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 charitable star. Par. Under Mars, I. Hel. I especially think, under Mars. Par. Why under Mars? As when thy father, and myself, in friendship Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you But on us both did haggish age steal on, must needs be born under Mars. Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. 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. It much repairs me And wore us out of act. 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 Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer Exception bid him speak, and, at this time, thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize He us'd as creatures of another place; thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's coun- And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, sel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon Making them proud of his humility, thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When Might be a copy to these younger times; thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them none, remember thy friends: get thee a good hus-But goers backward. band, and use him as he uses thee: so farewell. [Exit. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, [Exit. Ber. [now, His good remembrance, sir, King. 'Would, I were with him? He would al ways say, (Methinks, I hear him now: his plausive words Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, count, Since the physician at your father's died ' SCENE III.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. Count. I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, 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, do not all believe; 'tis my slowness, that I do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries Count. Well, sir. Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are damned: But, if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? Clo. I do beg your good-will in this 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? 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 imarry, that I may repent. Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked ness. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake. Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, Why the Grecians sacked Troy, Was this king Priam's joy. [Singing. Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. Clo. One good woman in ten, madam? which is a purifying o'the song: 'Would God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman 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 command you? Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be no pu ritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility 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. Sten. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. 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. Stev. 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; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any 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 ransome afterward: This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty, speedily to acCount. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clo. You are shallow, madam; e'en great friends; quaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am happen, it concerns you something to know it. Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep a-weary of. He, that ears my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If I be it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of his cuckold, he's my drudge: He that comforts my this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he, that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt: Pray that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my flesh you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and I and blood; he, that loves my flesh and blood, is my thank you for your honest care: I will speak with [Exit Steward. friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife, is my friend. you further anon. 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, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one, they may joll horns together, like any deer i'the herd. Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: For I the ballad will repeat, Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Enter Helena. Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young: If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, Count. Madam, I had. Wherefore? tell true. For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me Count. I say, I am your mother. Hel. Pardon, madam ; The count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; No note upon my parents, his all noble : My master, my dear lord he is and I His servant live, and will his vassal die : He must not be my brother. (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, That truth should be suspected: Speak, is't so ? Hel. Good madam, pardon me! Count. Do you love my son ? Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress! Count. Love you my son ? Do not you love him, madam? Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd. Hel. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love : The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, This was your motive For Paris, was it? speak. Count. [honour Dost thou believe't? Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, and love, Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings ACT II. SCENE I.-Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. Flourish. Enter King, with young Lords, taking leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles, and Attendants. King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin- Do not throw from you :-and you, my lord, fare- 1 Lord. King. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; Our hearts receive your warnings. hind us! Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark- Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. 2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles ! Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals:You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me. 2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. [Seeing him rise. Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu; be more expressive to them: for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed after them, and take a more dilated farewell. Ber. And I will do so. Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt Bertram and Parolles. Enter Lafeu. King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was My father; in what he did profess, well found. King. I knew him. Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death We thank you, maiden; Laf. Pardon, my lord, [kneeling.] for me and for I will no more enforce mine office on you; King. I'll fee thee to stand up. Laf. Goodfaith, across : But, my good lord, 'tis thus! Will you be cured Of your infirmity? King. Laf. No. O, will you eat Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts King. I cannot give thee less to be call'd grateful: Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give, As one near death to those that wish him live: Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Oft does them by the weakest minister : flown From simple sources; and great seas have dried, King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid: As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows: The help of heaven we count the act of men. But know I think, and think I know most sure, Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; no worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended. King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak ; His powerful sound, within an organ weak: In common sense, sense saves another way. And well deserv'd: Not helping, death's my fee; What husband in thy power I will command: To choose from forth the royal blood of France; King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, trust; From whence thou cam'st, how tended on,--But SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Enter Countess and Clown. Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. 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! 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. Count. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? Clo. 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 pancake 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. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. 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 O 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 myO 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. Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back : 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. Ber. And so 'tis. Laf. To be relinquish'd of the artists,- |