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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. 43
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 to deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil.
Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you.
With true observance seek to eke out that
My haste is very great. Farewell: hie home.
What would you have? Hel. Something, and scarce so much: nothing, indeed.
I would not tell you what I would, my lord :- @
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?
SCENE I.-Florence. A Room in the DUKE'S
Flourish. Enter DUKE, attended; two French
Duke. So that from point to point now have
The fundamental reasons of this war,
Duke. Therefore we marvel much our cousin
Would in so just a business shut his bosom
That presently you take your way for home; 70
Good my lord,
That surfeit on their ease, will day by day
And all the honours that can fly from us
Welcome shall they be,
You know your places
SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the
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
Count. 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,
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 killed?
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.
Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. First Gent. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Second Gent. Do not say so.
Count. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentle
Second Gent. Ay, madam.
And to be a soldier? Second Gent. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't,
The duke will lay upon him all the honour
Return you thither? First Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter.
Count. Find you that there? Hel. Ay, madam. First 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 80 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? First Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known.
Parolles, was it not? First Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wicked
Y' are welcome, gentlemen.
The honour that he loses : more I'll entreat you
Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen. Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
Nothing in France until he has no wife!
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and
Then thou forth, go And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm As thy auspicious mistress!
This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Rousillon. A Room in the COUN TESS's Palace.
Enter COUNTESS and Steward.
Count. Alas! and would you take the letter
Might you not know she would do as she has done,
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth: He is too good and fair for Death and me; Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
SCENE V. Without the Walls of Florence.
A tucket afar off. Enter a 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 that 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 but the modesty which is so lost. are, though there were no further danger known
Dia. You shall not need to fear me.
Count. Ah! what sharp stings are in her mildest I know she will lie words;
send one another.
Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your
Wid. You came, I think, from France?
His face I know not.
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 Saint Jaques bound, Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly Already at my house. of him ; 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, 100 I will bestow some precepts of this virgin Worthy the note. Both.
Whatsoe'er he is,
He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his
Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the
Reports but coarsely of her.
Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
What's his name?
We'll take your offer kindly.
SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence.
Second Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.
O! I believe with him, let him have his way.
I have not heard examin'd.
Alas! poor lady; 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord.
Wid. Ay, right; good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her
A shrewd turn if she pleas'd.
Second Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business in a How do you mean? main danger fail you.
fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing.
Second 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 1 imp of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.
First Lord. O for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his desigu: let him fetch off his drum in any hand.
Ber. How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.
Second Lord. A pox on 't let it go: 'tis but a drum.
Par. But a drum!' Is 't but a drum'? A drum so lost! There was an excellent command, to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers! 52 Second Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service: it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented if he had been there to 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.
Par. It is to be recovered. But that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.
Ber. Why, if you have a stomach, to 't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.
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 'rt valiant; and to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
Par. I love not many words.
Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto?
First Lord. None in the world; but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost embossed him, you shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect.
Second Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old Lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.
First Lord. I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught.
Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me. First Lord. As 't please your lordship: I'll leave you. Exit. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you The lass I spoke of.
Second Lord. But you say she's honest. Ber. That's all the fault. I spoke with her
A Room in the Widow's House.
Enter HELENA and Widow.
Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses ;
Wid. I should believe you; For you have show'd me that which well approves You're great in fortune. Hel. Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay and pay again When I have found it. The count he woos your daughter,
Exit. 90 Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, First Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent, Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so As we 'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. 20 confidently seems to undertake this business, Now, his important blood will nought deny which he knows is not to be done; damns him- That she 'll demand: a ring the county wears, self to do, and dares better be damned than to That downward hath succeeded in his house do't? From son to son, some four or five descents Second Lord. You do not know him, my lord, Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds