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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

Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,
And lawful meaning in a lawful act;
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact!
But let's about it.


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Par. Though I swore, I leaped from the window of the citadel

1 Lord. How deep?
Par. Thirty fathom.


1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

[Aside. Par. I would, I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear, I had recovered it.

1 Lord. You shall hear one anon.

[Aside. Par. A drum now of the enemy's! [Alarum within. 1 Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Cargo, cargo, villianda, par corbo, cargo. [Exeunt. Par. O! ransom, ransom! - Do not hide mine eyes! [They seize him and blindfold him.

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 hedgewhen 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 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you.

Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak to as 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.


Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I 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 foolhardy; 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 what he is?

1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos.
Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment,
And I shall lose my life for want of language:
If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speak to me,
will discover that, which shall undo
The Florentine.



1 Sold. Boskos vauvado:

understand thee, and can speak thy tongue: -
Kerelybonto:- Sir,

Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards
Are at thy bosom.

Par. Oh!

1 Sold. O, pray, pray, pray.— . Manka revania dulche,

1 Lord. Oscorbi dulchos volivorca.

1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet,
And, hood-wink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee; haply, thou may'st inform
Something to save thy life.
And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,
Par. O, let me live,
Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that,
Which will wonder at.

1 Sold. But wilt thou faithfully?
Par. IfI do not, damn me!
1 Sold. Acordo linta. —
Come on, thou art granted space.

[Exit, with Parolles guarded. 1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled,

Till we do hear from them.
2 Sold. Captain, I will.

1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves; — Inform'em that.

2 Sold. So I will, sir.


1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Florence. A room in the Widow's house. Enter BERTRAM and DIANA.

Ber. They told me, that your name was Fontibell.
Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber. Titled goddess;

And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument:
When you are dead, you should be such a one
[Aside. As you are now, for you are cold and stern;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet self was got.
Dia. She then was honest.
Ber. So should you be.

Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. 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.


Dia. No:

[Aside. My mother did but duty; such, my lord,

Par. Orto drown my clothes, and say, I was stripped. As you owe to your wife.

1 Lord. Hardly serve.

[Aside. Ber. No more of that!

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SCENE III. The Florentine camp.
Enter the two French Lords, and two or three

1 Tord. You have not given him his mother's letter?
2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since: there is
something in't,that stings his nature; for, on the read-
ing it, he changed almost into another man.

1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him,
for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth; 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting
But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.
What is not holy, that we swear not by,

displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his
bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing,

But take the Highest to witness. Then, pray you, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.
tell me,

If I should swear by Jove's great attributes,
Ilov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ill? this has no holding,
To swear by him, whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him. Therefore, your oaths
Are words, and poor conditions; but unseal'd;
At least, in my opinion.

Ber. Change it, change it!

Be not so holy-cruel! love is holy;
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts,

That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,
But give thyself unto my sick desires,
Who then recover: say, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so perséver.

Dia. I see, that men make hopes, in such affairs,
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring!
Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.

Dia, Will you not, my lord?

Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world
In me to lose.

Dia. Mine honour's such a ring:
My chastity's the jewel of our house,'
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy in the world
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part,
Against your vain assault.

Ber. Here, take my ring!

My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.

1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown: and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window;

1 Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion: as we are
ourselves, what things are we!

2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as, in the com-
mon course of all treasons, we still see them reveal
themselves, till they attain to their abhorred ends; so
he, that in this action contrives against his own nobi-
lity, in his proper stream o'erflows himself.

I'll order take, my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that, what in time proceeds,
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, till then; then, fail not! You have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

2 Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to

his hour.

1 Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have
him see his company anatomized; that he might take
a measure of his own judgements, wherein so curiously
he had set this counterfeit.

2 Lord. We will not meddle with him, till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other.

[Exit. Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven and


You may so in the end.

My mother told me just, how he would woo,
As if she sat in his heart; she says, all men
Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me,
When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him,
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid:
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win.

1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these


2 Lord. I hear, there is an overture of peace.
1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
2 Lord. What will count Rousillon do then? will he
travel higher, or return again into France?
1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not al-
together of his council.

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a great
deal of his aet.

1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled
from his house; her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint
Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with most
austere sanctimony, she accomplished: and, there re-
siding, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey
to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath,
and now she sings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this justified?

1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters;
which makes her story true, even to the point of her
death: her death itself, which could not be her office
to say, is come, was faithfully confirmed by the rector
of the place.

2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence?
1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the verity.

2 Lord. I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad of this.
1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us com-
forts of our losses!

2 Lord. And how mightily, some other times, we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.

1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good [Exit. and ill together: our virtues would be proud, ifour


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faults whipped them not; and our crimes would de-knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his spair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.

Enter a Servant.

How now? where's your master? Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave; his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king.

2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. Enter BERTRAM.

1 Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now.-How now, my lord, is't not after midnight?

Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have conge'd with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; entertained my convoy; and, between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

Ber. I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier?-Come, bring forth this counterfeit module! He has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophecier.


2 Lord. I will never trust a man again, for keeping his sword clean; nor believe, he can have every thing in him, by wearing his apparel neatly. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down.


Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said,—I will say -or thereabouts, set down,-for I'll speak truth. 1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this. Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he delivers it.

Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. Par. I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor.

1 Sold. Demand of him, of what strength they are a-foot. Whats t say you to that? Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Ludowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each: mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. Ber. What shall be done to him?

1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the


2 Lord. Bring him forth! [Exeunt Soldiers.] He has 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. You shall demand sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. of him, whether one captain Dumain be i'the camp, a Ber. No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurp-Frenchman: what his reputation is with the duke, ing his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

1 Lord. I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry him. But, to answer you as you would be understood, he weeps, like a wench that had shed her milk: he hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance, to this very instant disaster of his setting i'the stocks: and what think you he hath confess'd?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face if your lordship be in't, as, I believe, you are, you must have the patience to hear it.


Re-enter Soldiers, with PAROLLES.

Ber. A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me; hush! hush!

2 Lord. Hoodman comes!-Porto tartarossa. 1 Sold. He calls for the tortures; what will you say without 'em?

Pur. I will confess what I know, without constraint; if ye pinch me, like a pasty, I can say no more.

1 Sold. Bosko chimurcho.

2 Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 1 Sold. You are a merciful general.

Our general

bids yon answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live.

1 Sold. First demand of him, how many horse the duke is strong. What say you to that?

Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live.

1 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so?

Par. Do; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will.

Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks, it were not possible, with wellweighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt. What say you to this? what do you know of it? Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them singly!

1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain? Pur. I know him: he was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the sheriff's fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could not say him nay. [Dumain lifts up his hand in anger. Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know, his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. 1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp?

Pur. Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy.

1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon.

1Sold. What is his reputation with the duke?

Par. The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day, to turn him out o'the band. I think, I have his letter in my pocket.

Sold. Marry, we'll search.

Pur. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there, or it is upon a file, with the duke's other letters, in my tent.

1 Sold. Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you?

Par. I do not know, ifit be it, or no.
Ber. Our interpreter does it well.
1 Lord. Excellently.

1 Sold. Dian. The count's a fool, and full of gold,Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one count 1 Lord. You are deceived, my lord; this is monsieur Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very Parolles, the gallant militarist, (that was his own ruttish: I pray you, sir, putit up again! phrase,) that had the whole theoric of war in the 1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour,

Par. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has
the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to the cramp.
be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to
virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds.
Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue!

1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine?

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse,count Rousillon. 1 Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, 1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his and take it; pleasure.

After he scores, he never pays the score:

Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums!

Half won, is match well made; match, and well Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supmake it;

He ne'er pays after debts, take it before;
And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this,
Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss:
For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it,
Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.

Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine eur,

PAROLLES. Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme in his forehead.

2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the mani-
fold linguist, and the armipotent soldier.
Ber. I could endure any thing before, but a cat, and
now he's a cat to me.

1 Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you.

Par. My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature, let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i'the stocks, or anywhere, so I may live! 1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this captain Dumain! You have answered to his reputation with the duke, and to his valour; what is his honesty?

Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking them, he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think, truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swinedrunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has every thing, that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing.

1 Lord. I begin to love him for this.

Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he is more and more a cat.

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position of that lascivious young boy, the count, have
I run into this danger. Yet, who would have suspected
an ambush, where I was taken?


Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The general says, you, that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army,and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the World for no honest use; therefore you must dic.Come, headsman, off with his head!

1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragediaus, to belie him I will not, and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain.

Par O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!
1 Sold. That you shall, and take your leave of all
your friends.
[Unmuffling him.

1 Lord. He hath out-villained villainy so far, that the rarity redeems him.

Ber. A poxon him! he's a cat still.

So, look about you; know you any here?
Ber. Good-morrow, noble captain!
2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles!
1 Lord. God save you, noble captain!
2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord
Lafeu? I am for France.

1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt. Par, Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the
sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Rou-
sillon? An I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of
you; but fare you well! [Exeunt Bertram, Lords, etc.
1 Sold. You are undone, captain: all but your scarf,
that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot?
1 Sold. If you could find out a country, where but wo-
men were that had received so much shame, you might
begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, sir; I am for
France, too; we shall speak of you there. [Exit.
Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
'Twould burst at this: Captain I'll be no more;
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft,
As captain shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's place, and means, for every man alive.
I'll after them.


SCENE IV.-Florence. A room in the Widow's house.
Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA.
Hel. That you may well perceive, I have not wrong'd


One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne, 'tis needful,
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel.
Time was, I did him a desired office,
Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
Through flinty Tartar's bosom would keep forth,
And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd,
His grace is at Marseilles; to which place
We have convenient convoy. You must know,
I am supposed dead: the army breaking,
My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,

1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Du-And by the leave of my good lord the king,

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me?

1 Sold. What's he?

Par. E'en a crow of the same nest; not altogether so great, as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreat,

We'll be, before our welcome.

Wid. Gentle madam,

You never had a servant, to whose trust
Your business was more welcome.
Hel. Nor you, mistress,

Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompense your love; doubt not, but heaven

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Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motive
And helper to a husband. But O strange men!
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play
With what it loaths, for that which is away.
But more of this hereafter!-You, Diana,
Under my poor instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.

Dia. Let death and honesty

Go with your impositions, I am yours,
Upon your will to suffer.

Hel. Yet, I pray you,—

But with the word, the time will bring on summer,
When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns,
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away;
Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us.
All's well that ends well: still the fine's the crown;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Rousillon. A room in the Countess's


his nobility remain in his court! I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter: some, that humble themselves, may; but the many will be too chill and tender; and they'll be for the flowery way, that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.

Laf. Gothy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks!

Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades 'tricks; which are their own right by the law of [Exit.


Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy!

Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him; by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sanciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. Laf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss: and I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the king, my master, to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose: his highness hath promised me to do it; and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?

Enter Countess, LAFEU, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipttaffata fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour; and your son here at home, more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed humble-it bee I speak of.

Count. I would, I had not known him! it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever nature had praise for creating: if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love.

Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such another herb.

Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or, rather the herb of grace.

Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs.

Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in grass.

Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, or a fool?

Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at

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great a prince, as you are.

Laf. Who's that? a Frenchman?

Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish happily effected.

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body, as when he numbered thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters, that my son will be here to-night: shall beseech your lordship, to remain with me till they meet together.

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Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what manners I might safely be admitted.

Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege.


Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but,
thank my God, it holds yet.
Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under it, or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so, belike, is that. Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you; I long to talk with the young noble soldier.

Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats,and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at every man. [Exeunt.

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Clo. 'Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Atphisnomy is more hotter in France, than there.

Laf. What prince is that?


Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night,

Clo. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of dark-Must wear your spirits low: we cannot help it; ness; alias, the devil.

Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st of;

serve him still.

But, since you have made the days and nights as one,
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
Be bold, you do so grow in my requital,
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time ;-
Enter a gentle Astringer.

Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved
a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever keeps a This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world, let If he would spend his power.- God save you, sir!

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