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The confirmation of my promis'd gift,

What she has done for me? Which but attends thy naming.

Ber.

Yes, my good lord ;

But never hope to know why I should marry her.
Enter several Lords.

King. Thou know'st she has rais'd me from
Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful my sickly bed.
parcel

Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,

Must answer for your raising ? I know her well; O'er whom both sovereign power and father's She had her breeding at my father's charge : voice

A poor physician's daughter my wife !-Disdain i have to use : thy frank election make;

Rather corrupt me ever! Thou hast power to choose, and they none to King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the forsake.

which Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, mistress

Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Fall, when love please !--marry, to each, but Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off, one!

In differences so mighty : If she be
Laf. I'd give bay Curtal, and his furniture, All that is virtuous save what thou dislik'st,
My month no more were broken than these boys', A poor physician's daughter, thou dislik'st
And writ as little beard.

of virtue for the name: but do not so: King.

Peruse them well : From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, Not one of those but had a noble father.

The place is dignified by the doer's deed : Hel. Gentlemen,

Where great additions swell, and virtue none, Heaven bath, through me, restored the king to It is a dropsied honour: good alone health

Is good ;---without a name, vileness is so : All. We understand it, and thank Heaven for the property by what it is should go, you.

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair ; Hel. lam a simple maid; and therein weal. In these to nature she's inmediate heir ; thiest,

And these breed honour; that is honour's scorn, That, J protest, 1 simply am a maid :

Which challenges itself as honour's born, Please it your majesty, I have done already: ' And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive, The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,

When rather from our acts we them derive
We blush, that thou shouldst choose ; but, be Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave,
refus'd,

Debauch'd on every tomb, on every grave,
Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever ; A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,
We'll ne'er corne there again.

Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
King:

Make choice ; and see, of honour'd bones indeed. What should be Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me.

said ? Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly ;

If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
And to imperial Love, that god most high, I can create the rest : virtue, and she,
Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit?

her own dower: honour and wealth from
1 Lord. And grant it.
Hel. Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst
mes-ace for my life.

strive to choose. Hel The honour, sir, that flames in your fair Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am eyes,

glad; Before I speak, too threateningly replies:

Let the rest go.
Love make your fortunes twenty times above King. My honour's at the stake ; which to de-
Her that so wishes, and her humble love!

feat, 2 Lord. No better, if you please.

I must produce my power: Here, take her hand, Hel.

My wish receive, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift;
Which great love grant! and so I take my leave. That dost in vile misprision shackle up

Laf. Do all they deny her ? An they were sons My love and her desert; that canst not dream,
of mine, I'd have them whipped ; or I would We, poising us in her defective scale,
send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of. Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
Hel. Be not afraid [To a Lord] that I your It is in us to plant thine honour, where
hand should take;

We please to have it grow: Check thy contempt
I'll never do you wrong for your own sake : Obey our will, which travails in thy good :
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed Believe not thy disdain, but presently
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Do thine own fortunes that obedient right,
Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none Which both thy duty owes, and our power
have her: sure, they are bastards to the English: claims;
the French ne'er got them.

Or I will throw thee from my care for ever, Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too Into the staggers and the careless lapse good,

Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and To make yourself a son out of my blood.

hate, 4 Lord. Fair one. I think not so.

Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, Laf. There's one grape yet,-I am sure, thy Without all terms of pity : Speak: ihine answer. father drank wioe.-But if thou be'st not an ass, Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for 1 submit I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee My fancy to your eyes : When I consider, already.

What great creation, and what dole of honour, Hel. 1 dare not say, I take you ;[To Bertram) Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late bat I give

Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
Me, and my service, ever whilst I live, The praised of the king; who, so ennobled,
Irio your guiding power. This is the man. Is, as 'twere, born so.
King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, King,

Take her by the hand, she's thy wife.

And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise Ber. My wife, my liege ? I shall beseech your A counterpoise; if not to thy estate, highness,

A balance more replete. In such a business give me leave to use

Ber.

I take her hand. The help of mine own eyes.

King. Good fortune and the favour of the king. King.

Know'st thou not, Bertram,'Smile upon this contract: whose ceremony

me.

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Bhall seem expedient on the now-born brief, dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion 1 And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast dost make hose of thy sleeves ? do other serShall more attend upon the coming space, vants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. were but iwo hours younger, I'd beat thee: me(Exeunt King, Bertram, Helena, Lords, thinks, thou art a general offence, and every and Attendants.

man should beat thee. I think thou wast creLaf. Do you hear monsieur ? a word with you. ated for men to breathe themselves upon thee Par. Your pleasure, sir ?

Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, Laf. Your lord and master did well to make my lord. his recantation.

Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for Par. Recantation ? My lord ? my master ? picking a kernel out of a pomegranate ; you are Laf. Ay; Is it not a language, I speak ? à vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more Pat. A most harsh one; and not to be under saucy with lords, and honourable personages, stood without bloody succeeding. My master ? than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousil- you commission. You are not worth another lon

word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. Par. To any count; to all counts; to what is

(Erit. man? Laf. To what is count's man: count's master

Enter Bertram. is of another style.

Par. Good, very good; it is so then.--Good, Par. You are too old, sir ; let it satisfy you, very good ; let it he concealed a while. you are too old.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to Par. What is the matter, sweet heart? which title age cannot bring thee.

Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. sworn, Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to I will not bed her. be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tole Par. What? what, sweet heart? rable vent of thy travel; it might pass : yet the Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me:scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, did

mani- I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. foldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more of too great a burden. I have now found thee; merits when I lose thee again, I care not: yet art thou The tread of a man's foot: to the wars! good for nothing but taking up; and that thou Ber. There's letters from my mother; what art scarce worth.

the import is, Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity I know not yet. upon thee,

Par. Ay, that would be known: To the wars, Laf. Do not plnnge thyself too far in anger, my boy, to the wars! test thou hasten thy trial'; which if-Lord have He wears his hononr in a box unseen, mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home; of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not Spending his manly marrow in her arms, open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Par. My lord, you give me most egregious or Mars's fiery steed: To other regions! indignity.

France is a stable : we, that dwell in't, jades; Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art Therefore, to the war! worihy of it

Ber. It shall be so ; I'll send her to my house, Par. I have not, my lord, deserv'd it.

Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I And wherefore I am fled; write to the king will not bate thee a scruple.

That which I durst not speak : His present gift Par. Well, I shall be wiser.

Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thon hast Where noble fellows strike : War is no strife to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou To the dark house, and the detested wife. be'st bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ? find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge ; that I may say, I'll send her straight away : To-morrow in the default, he is a man I know.

I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable Par. Why, these balls bound ; there's noise vexation.

in it. 'Tis hard ; Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: and my poor doing eternal : for doing I am Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: past ; as I will by thee, in what motion age will The king has done you wrong; but, hush ! 'tis give me leave. (Erit.

(Exeunt. Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis

SCENE IV. grace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord !Well, I must be patient; there is no feitering of The same. Another Room in the same. authority. I'll beat him by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, and he were double

Enler Helena and Clown. and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well ? his age, than I would have of-I'll beat him, an Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her if I could but meet him again.

health ; she's very merry; but yet she is not

well : but thanks be given, she's very well, and Re-enter Lafeu.

wants nothing i' the world ; but yet she is not Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, well. there's news for you ; you have a new mistress. Hel. If she be very well, what does she zil,

Par. I most unseignedly beseech your lordship that she's not very well ? to make some reservation of your wrongs : He Clo Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for is my good lord : whom I serve above, is my two things. master.

Hel. What two things? Laf. Who? God?

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither Par. Ay, sir.

God send her quickly! the other, that she's in Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why earth, from whence God send her quickly!

me.

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Enter Parolles.

Ber. Will she away to-night? Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady!

Par. As you will have her. Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my mine own good fortunes.

treasure, and to keep them on, have them still.–O, my And, ere I do begin, Par. You had my prayers to lead them on : Given order for our horses, and to-night,

When I should take possession of the bride, knave! How does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her, Laf. A good traveller is something at the money, I would she did as you say.

latter end of a dinner; but one that lies threePar. Why, I say nothing.

thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thou. Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many sand nothings with, should be once heard, and a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: thrice beaten.-God save you, captain. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing,

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my and to have nothing, is to be a great part of lord and you, monsieur ? your title ; which is within a very little of. Par. I know not how I have deserved to run nothing:

into my lord's displeasure. Par. Away, thou’rt a knave.

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave and spurs and all, like him that leap'd into the thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather knave: this had been truth, sir.

than suffer question for your residence. Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my found thee.

lord. Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir ? or were

Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him you taught to find me? The search, sir, was

at his prayers Fare you well, my lord ; and profitable ; and much fool may you find in you, this light nut; the soul of this man is his

believe this of me. There can be no kernel in even to the world's pleasure, and the increase clothes : trust him not in matter of heavy conof laughter. Par. A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. - sequence; I have kept of them tame,

and know Madam, my lord will go away to-night ;

their natures.-Farewell, monsieur : I have A very serious business calls on him,

spoken better of you, than you have or will The great prerogative and rite of love,

deserve at my hand; but we must do good

against evil. Which, as your due, time claims, he does ac

[Erit knowledge ;

Par. An idle lord, I swear.

Ber. I think so.
But puts it off by a compell'd restraint ;
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with Par. Why, do you not know him ?
sweets,

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common Which they distil now in the curbed time,

speech To make the coming hour o'er flow with joy,

Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. And pleasure drown the brim. Hel. What's his will else?

Enter Helena. Par. That you will take your instant leave o'

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from the king,

you, And make this haste as your own good pro- Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave ceeding,

For present parting: only, he desires
Strengthen'd with what apology you think Some private speech with you.
May make it probable need.

Ber.

I shall obey his will. Hel.

What more commands he ? You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently which holds not colour with the time, nor does Attend his further pleasure.

The ministration and required office Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will. On my particular: prepar'd I was not Par. I shall report it so.

For such a business, therefore am I found ни. I pray you.--Come, sirrah. So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat

[Exeunt.

yoll, SCENE V. Another Room in the same That presently you take your way for home; Enter Lafeu and Bertram.

And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:

For my respects are better than they seem; Laf. But, I hope your; lordship thinks not And my appointments have in them a need, him a soldier.

Greater than shows itself at the first view, Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant ap- To you that know thein not. This to my mother: proof.

[Giving a letter. Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.

"Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so Ber. And by other warranted testimony.

I leave you to your wisdom. Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this Hel.

Sir, I can nothing say, lark for a bunting.

But that I am your most obedient servant. Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very

Ber. Come, come, no more of that. great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

Hel.

And ever shall Laf. I have then sioned against his experience, With trne observance seek to eke out that, and transgressed against his valour; and my wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet To equal my great fortune. pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the My haste is very great: Farewell ; hie home. amity. Enter Parolles.

Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.
Ber.

Well, what would you say ? Par. These things shall be done, sir.

Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe;

(To Bertram. Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is ; Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor ? But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal Par. Sir ?

What law does vouch mine own. Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is Ber.

What would you have 3 a good workman, a very good tailor

Hel. Something; and scarce so much :Ber. Is she gone to the king

nothing, indeed. | Aside to Parolles. I would not tell you what I would: my lord Par. She is.

'faith, yes ;

you heard

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss. l world, I will hold a long distance. My duty

Ber. I pray you stay not, but in haste to horse. to you.
Hel I shall not break your bidding, good my

Your unfortunate son,
lord.

BERTRAM Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ? This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, Farewell.

(Exit Helena. To fly the favours of so good a king;
Go thou toward home; where I will never come, To pluck his indignation on thy head,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the By the misprizing of a inaid too virtuous
drum:

For the coutempt of empire.
Away, and for our flight.
Par.
Bravely, coragio!

Re-enter Clown.
[Exeunt. Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within,

between two soldiers and my young lady.

Count. What is the matter?
ACT III.

Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news,
SCENE I. Florence.

some comfort ; your son will not be killed so

soon as I thought he would. A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Count. Why should he be killed ? Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attend, Clo. So sayi, madam, if he ran away, as I ed; two French Lords, and others.

hear he does: the danger is in standing to't;

that's the loss of men, though it be the getting Druke. So that, from point to point, now have of children. Here they come, will tell you The fundamental reasons of this war;

more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away

Exit Clown. Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.

Enter Helena and two Gentlemen. 1 Lord.

Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part; black and fearful 1 Gent. Save you, good madam.
On the opposer.

Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin 2. Gent. Do not say
France

Count. Think upon patience.—'Pray you, genWould, in so just a business, shut his bosom

tlemen,Against our borrowing prayers.

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, 2 Lord.

Good my lord, That the first face of neither, on the start, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, Can woman me unto't:-Where is my son, I But like a common and an outward man,

pray you ? That the great figure of a council frames 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke By self-unable motion : therefore dare not

of Florence : Say what I think of it; since I have found

We met him thitherward; from thence we came, Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail And, after some despatch in hand at court, often as I guess'd

Thither we bend again.
Duke.
Be it his pleasure.

Hel. Look on his letter, madam ; here's my 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our passport. nature,

[Reads. When thou canst get the ring upon That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, my finger, which never shall come off, and Come here for physick.

show ine a child begotten of thy body, that I Duke.

Welcome shall they be ; am father to, then call me husband: but in And all the honours, that can fly from us,

such a then I' write a never. Shall on them settle. You know your places This is a dreadful sentence! well;

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ? When better fall, for your atails they fell:

1 Gent.

Ay, madam; To-morrow to the field. (Flourish. Exeunt. And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our

pains. SCENE II. Rousillon.

Count. I pr’ythee, lady, have a better cheer ; A Room in the Countess's Palace. If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,

Thou robb'st me of a moiety : He was my son; Enter Countess and Clown.

But I do wash his name out of my blood, Count. It hath happened all as I would have And thou art all my child.-Towards Florence had it, save, that he comes not along with her. is he?

Clo. By iny troth, I take my young lord to be 2 Gent. Ay, madam. & very melancholy man.

Count.

And to be a soldier ? Count. By what observance, I pray you ? 2 Gent. Sach is his noble purpose : and, beClo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and

lieve't, sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, The duke will lay upon him all the honour and sing; pick his teeth, and sing : I know a That good convenience claims. man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a Count.

Return you thither 3 goodly manor for a song.

1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of Count. Let me see what he writes, and when speed. he means to come.

[Opening a letter. Hel. Reads.) Till I have no wife, I have Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at nothing in France. court; our old ling and our Isbels o' the country 'Tis bitter ! are nothing like your old ling and your lsbels Count. Find you that there? of the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked Hel.

Ay, madam. out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves I Gent. 'Tis bnt the boldness of his hand, hapmoney, with no stomach.

ly, which Count. What have we here?

His heart was not consenting to. Cio. E'en that you have there. [Exit. Count. Nothing in France, until he have ne Count. [Reads. I have sent you a daughter wife! in-law : she hath recovered the king, and un- There's nothing here, that is too good for him, done me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; But only she; and she deserves a lord, and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, hear, I am run away; know it, before the re- and call her hourly, mistress. Who was with port come. I there be breadth enough in thel lim?

41

I Gent. A servant only, and a gentlemen

SCENE IV. Rousillon. Which I have some time known.

A Room in the Countess's Palace Count.

Parolles, was't nor? 1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he.

Enter Countess and Steward. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick- Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of edness.

her ? My son corrupts a well-derived nature

Might you not know, she would do as she has With his inducement.

done,
1 Gent.
Indeed, good lady,

By sending me a letter ? Read it again.
The fellow has a deal of that, too much,
Wbich holds him much to have.

Stew. I am Saint Jaques's pilgrim, thither
Count. You are welcome, gentlemen,

gone ; I will entreat you, when you see my son,

Ambitious love hath so in me offended, To tell him that his sword can never win

That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, The honour that he loses. more I'll entreat Write, write, that from the bloody course of

With sainted vow my faults to have amended. you Written to bear along.

war, 2 Gent. We serve you madam,

My dearest master, your dear son may hie; In that and all your worthiest affairs.

Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far, Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.

His name with zealous fervour sanctify:

His taken labours bid him me forgive; Will you draw near?

(Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in From courlly friends, with camping foes to France.

live, Nothing in France, until he has no wife!

Where 'death and danger dog the heels of

worth: Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France, Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is't I

He is too good and fair for death and me; That chase thee from thy country, and expose

Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. Those tender limbs of thine to the event

Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildOf the none sparing war ? and is it

est words !
That drive thee from the sportive court, where Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
thon

As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark I could have well diverted her intents,
Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, Which thus she hath prevented.
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Stew.

Pardon me, madam:
Fly with false aim; move the still-piecing air, If I had given you this at over-night,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet sho
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;

writes,
Whoever charges on his forward breast, Pursuit would be in vain.
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;

Count.

What angel shall
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive,
His death was so effected ; better 'twere, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd

hear,
With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
That all the miseries, which nature owes, of greatest justice.--Write, write, Rinaldo,
Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rou. To this unworthy husband of his wife;
sillon,

Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, That he does weigh too light: my greatest
As oft it loses all; I will be gone :

grief,
My being here it is, that holds thee hence: Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Shall I stay here to do't ? no, no, although Despatch the most convenient messenger:
The air of paradise did fan the house,

When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;

He will return ; and hope I may, that she,
That pitiful rumour may report my flight, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, Led hither by pure love: wbich of them both
day!

Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
For, with the dark, poor thief, l'll steal away. To make distinction :-Provide this messen-

[Exit.

ger:

My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
SCENE III. Florence.

Grief would have' tears, and sorrow bids me
speak.

[Ereunt. Before the Duke's Palace. Flourish.

SCENE V.
Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Lords,
Officers, Soldiers, and others.

Without the Walls of Florence. A Tucket
Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and

afar off we,

Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana, Vio Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence,

lenta, Mariana, and other Citizens. Upon thy promising fortune.

Wid. Nay, come ; for if they do approach the Ber.

Sir, it is

city, we shall lose all the sight.
A charge too heavy for my strength ; but yet Dia. They say, the French, count has done
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, most honourable service.
To the extreme edge of hazard.

Wid. It is reported that he has taken their
Duke.

Then go thou forth; greatest commander; and that with his own And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,

hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost As thy anspicious mistress!

our labour; they are gone a contrary way : Ber.

This very day, hark ! you may know by their trumpets.
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice our
Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall selves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take
prove

heed of this French eal: the honour of a maid A lover of thy drum, hater of love. (Eseunt. Jis her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

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