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What angels shall

Count.
Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Despatch the most convenient messenger:-
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love: which of them both,
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
To make distinction:-Provide this messenger:-
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.-Without the walls of Florence. A
tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Flo-
rence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other citi-

zens.

Wil. 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.

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Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim.

Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think, from France?
Hel.
I did so.
Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours,
That has done worthy service.
Hel.
His name, I pray you?
Dia. The count Rousillon: Know you such a one?
Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
His face I know not.

Dia.

Whatsoe'er he is,
He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
Against his liking: Think you it is so?
Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his
lady.

Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count,
Reports but coarsely of her.
What's his name?

Hel.

Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
Hel.

O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated; all her deserving Wid. It is reported, that he has taken their Is a reserved honesty, and that greatest commander; and that with his own hand I have not heard examin'd. he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our la- Dia. bour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you of a detesting lord. 'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife may know by their trumpets.

Alas, poor lady!

Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice our- Wid. A right good creature: wheresoe'er she is, selves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do

of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

her

A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

Hel.

May be, the amorous count solicits her
How do you mean?

Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion. Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Pa- In the unlawful purpose. rolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions2

Wid.

He does, indeed;

for the youner earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their And brokes with all that can in such a suit promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: engines of lust, are not the things they go under :3 But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard many a maid hath been seduced by them, and In honestest defence.

the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Flothe 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 are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which That, Escalus. 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? Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand.

Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?

(1) Weigh, here means to value or esteem. (2) Temptations.

(3) They are not the things for which their names would make them pass.

rentine army, Bertram, and Parolles.
Mar. The gods forbid else!
Wid.
So, now they come :-
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
Which is the Frenchman?

Hel.

Dia.

He;

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow;
I would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honester,
He were much goodlier:-Is't not a handsome
gentleman?

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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. Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so

Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something: Look, lost?-There was an excellent command! to he has spied us.

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 Saint 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.
SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence.

Bertram, and the two French Lords.

charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Casar 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.
Ber. It might, but it is not now.

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, [Exe. if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native Enter quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, 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.

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. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will preknowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him sently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an in- in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparafinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment.

2 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 main danger, fail you.

Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

tion, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. 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 possi bility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

Par. I love not many words.

[Exit. 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his 1. Lord. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently to do. seems to undertake this business, which he knows 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will sud- is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares denly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am better be damned than to do't.

sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind 2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal adversaries, when we bring him to our tents: Be of discoveries; but when you find him out, you but your lordship present at his examination; if he have him ever after.

do not, for the promise of his life, and in the high- Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed est compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, at all of this, that so seriously he does address himand deliver all the intelligence in his power against self unto?

you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon 1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. invention, and clap upon you two or three proba 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch ble lies: but we have almost embossed him,' you his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, your lordship's respect.

and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, be melted, if you give him not John Drum's enter-ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, he comes. tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.

Enter Parolles.

1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be

1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not caught.

(2) The camp.

(1) A paltry fellow, a coward. (4) I will pen down my plans, and the probable (3) I would recover the lost drum or another, or obstructions. die in the attempt. (5) Hunted him down.

(6) Strip him naked.

Greater than shows 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.

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.

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

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Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?-I
Farewell.

[Erit.

Count. What have we here? 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 (Exit Helena. make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run Go thou toward home; where I will never come, away; know it, before the report come. If there Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum:-be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long Away, and for our flight. distance. My duty to you. Par. 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.

Bravely, coragio! [Exe.

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 heard

The fundamental reasons of this war;
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.

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin
France

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, 2
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 it his pleasure.

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?

he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear 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 Gent. Save you, good madam.

Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gent. Do not say so.

Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gen

tlemen,

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our na- Can woman me unto't :-Where is my son, I pray

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you?

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Thither we bend again.

passport.

[Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, 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.

That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Hel. Look on this letter, madam; here's my Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord!
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;
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
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That all the miseries which nature owes,
Were mine at once: no, come thou home, Rousillon,
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 offie'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
1 Gent.
Ay, madam;
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,2
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 Gent. Ay, madam. Count.

And to be a soldier?

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

Count.

Return you thither?

1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

Hel. [Reads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing

in France.

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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.
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick-
edness.

My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.

1 Gent.

Indeed, good lady,

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.

2 Gent.

We serve you, madam,
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
Will you draw near?

[Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.

Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France,
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
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

(1) i. e. When you can get the ring, which is on my finger, into your possession.

(2) If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself. (3) In reply to the gentlemen's declaration, that they are her servants, the countess answers-uo

[Exit. SCENE III.-Florence. Before the Duke's Pa lace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others. Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence, Upon thy promising fortune.

Ber.

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.
Then go thou forth;
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
As thy auspicious mistress!
Ber.
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 of
her?

Might you not know, she would do as she has done,
By sending me a letter? Read it again.
Stew. I am Saint 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 før.
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 fees 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!-

Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,

otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility.

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Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, 1 Lord. As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, [Exit. And lawful meaning in a lawful act;

Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: But let's about it.

you The lass I spoke of. 2 Lord.

But, you say, she's honest. Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but

once,

And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,
By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind,
Tokens and letters which she did re-send;
And this is all I have done: She's a fair creature;
Will you go see her?
2 Lord.

With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-Florence. A Room in the Widow's house. Enter Helena and Widow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
I know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.'
Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well
born,

Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
And would not put my reputation now

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First, give me trust, the count he is my husband;
And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken,
Is so, from word to word; and then you cannot,
By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
Err in bestowing it.

Wid.

I should believe you;
For you have show'd me that, which well approves
You are 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,

Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
Resolves to carry her; let her, in fine, consent,
As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it,
Now his important2 blood will nought deny
That she'll demand: A ring the county' wears,
That downward hath succeeded in his house,
From son to son, some four or five descents
Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds
In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
Howe'er repented after.

Wid.

Now I see The bottom of your purpose.

Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent: after this, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is past already.

Wid. I have yielded : Instruct my daughter how she shall perséver, That time and place, with this deceit so lawful, May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd To her unworthiness: It nothing steads us, To chide him from our eaves; for he persists, As if his life lay on't. Hel.

Why then, to-night

(1) i. e. By discovering herself to the count. (2) Importunate. (3) i. e. Count. (4) From under our windows.

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-Without the Florentine camp. Enter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in ambush.

1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge's corner: When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter: for we must not seem to understand him; unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

1 Seld. No, sir, I warrant you.

1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak to us again?

1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me.

1 Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: chough's language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

Enter Parolles.

Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say] have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it: They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too fool-hardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.

1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. [Aside.

Par. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum; being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say, I got them in exploit: Yet slight ones will not carry it: They will say, Came you off with so little? and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore? what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

1 Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is? [Aside. Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn; or the breaking of my Spanish sword.

[Aside.

1 Lord. We cannot afford you so. Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to say, it was in stratagem.

1 Lord. 'Twould not do.
Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say

stripped.

1'Lord. Hardly serve.

[Aside.

was

[Aside.

(5) i. e. Foreign troops in the enemy's pay. (6) A bird like a jack-daw. (7) The proof.

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