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Given order for our horses; and to-night,
When I should take possession of the bride,-
And, ere I do begin,-

· 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 deserv'd to run into my lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs, and all, like him that leap'd into the custard; 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.-Farewel, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil.


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 Here comes my clog.

Gives him a worthy pass.

Enter Helena.

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only, he desires Some private speech with you.

Ber. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office

On my particular: prepar'd I was not

For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,
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.
Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
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.

Let that go:
My haste is very great: Farewel; hie home.
Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.

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.


What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much:—nothing, indeed.

I would not tell you what I would; my lord—'faith,

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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


Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?— Farewel. [Exit Helena. Go thou toward home; where I will never come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum:Away, and for our flight.


Bravely, coragio!





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 reason 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


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 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.


Be it his pleasure.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physick.


Welcome shall they be;

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.



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 he means to come. [Opening a Letter.

Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court: our old lings and our Isbels o'the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o'the court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

Count. What have we here?

Clo. E'en that you have there.


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