1

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 any where, 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 swine-drunk; 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.

1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians,-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 there call'd 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.

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

Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to

revolt.

1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unmuffling him. So, look about you; Know you any here? Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. Lord. God save you, noble captain. 2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord Lafeu? I ain for France. 1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare you well. [Exeunt Bertram, Lords, &c. 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 women 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 brag-
gart,

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 thrivel
There's place, and means, for every man alive.
I'll after them.
[Exit.

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 you,

One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne, 'tis need-
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel:
ful,

Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-Time was, I did him a desired office, simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it: and Dear almost as his life; which gratitude cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpe-And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd, Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, tual succession for it perpetually.

1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Dumain?

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 he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the

cramp.

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

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count

Rousillon.

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,

And by the leave of my good lord the king,
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
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
With what it loathes, for that which is away:
Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play

1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the count, have I run into this danger: Yet, But more of this hereafter:-You, Diana, who would have suspected an ambush where 1 Under my poor instructions yet must suffer was taken ? [Aside. Something in my behalf. 1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must Dia. Let death and honesty die: the general says, you, that have so traitor-Go with your impositions, I am yours ously discovered the secrets of your army, and Upon your will to suffer." made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly But with the word, the time will bring on sum Yet, I pray you, held, can serve the world for no honest use therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off When briars shall have leaves as well as thorne, with his head. Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my Our wagon is prepar'd, and time revives us: And be as sweet as sharp. We must away;

death!

Hel.

mer,

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?

I

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

A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata fellow there; whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he in-law had been alive at this hour; and your son will be here to-morrow, or 1 am deceived by him here at home, more advanced by the king, than that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see Count. I would, I had not known him! it was him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, here to-night: 1 shall beseech your lordship, to that ever nature had praise for creating: if she remain with me till they meet together. had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dear: Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what manest groans of a mother, I could not have owed ners I might safely be admitted. 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

knave at a man's.

Laf. Your distinction?

a

Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.

Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.

Laf. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool.

Clo. At your service.

Laf. No, no, no.

Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are.

Laf. Who's that? a Frenchman?

Clo. 'Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France, than

there.

Laf. What prince is that?

Clo. The black prince, sir, alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil.

Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still.

Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world, let his nobility remain in his court. 1 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. Go thy 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 nature. [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 sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.

Laf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss: and 1 was about to tell you, since I heard of the good

Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege.

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

Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.
Hel.
I do beseech you, sir,
Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it:
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.
Gent.

This I'll do for you. Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,

Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again;
Go, go, provide.
[Exeunt.

The inner Court of the Countess's Palace.
Enter Clown and Parolles.

Par. Good Monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strong as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering 'Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose: or against any man's metaphor.

'Prythee, get thee further.

Par. 'Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Clo. Foh, pr'ythee, stand away; A paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a noble

man! Look, here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu.

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: 'Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. Exit Clown. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Count.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it; but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.
"Tis past, my liege:
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth:
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.
King.
My honour'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.
Laf.
This I must say,
But first I beg my pardon,--The young lord
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady
Offence of mighty note; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took cap-
tive;

Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to
Humbly call'd mistress.

serve,

hither;

Makes the remembrance dear.-Well, call him
King.
Praising what is lost,
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition:-Let him not ask our pardon;

The nature of his great offence is dead,
The incensing relicks of it: let him approach,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,

So 'tis our will he should..
Gent

I shall, my liege.
[Erit Gentleman
King. What says he to your daughter? have
you spoke-

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high

ness.

King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me,, That set him high in fame.

Ber.

Enter Bertram.

He looks well on't

Laf. And what would you have me to do | Laf. 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein King. I am not a day of season, have you played the knave with fortune, that For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail she should scratch you, who of herself is a good In me at once: Bat to the brightest beams lady, and would not have knaves thrive long Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth, under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you: Let The time is fair again. the justices make you and fortune friends; 1 My high-repented blames, am for other business. Dear sovereign, pardon to me. King. All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of time then.-Steals ere we can effect them: You remember The daughter of this lord?

Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one single word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles.
Laf. You beg more than one word
Cox' my passion! give me your hand :-How
does your drum?

Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

Laf. Was I, in sooth ? and I was the first that lost thee.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound. ] The king's coming, I know by his trumpets.-Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow.

Par. 1 praise God for you.

[Exeunt.

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object: Thence it came,,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom
myself,

Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.
King.
That thou didst love her,
away

Well excus'd: strikes some scores

From the great compt: But love, that comes too, My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.
Count. Which better than the first, O dear
heaven, bless!

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's

name

Must be digested, give a favour from you,
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come.-By my old beard,
And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this,
The last that e'er I took her leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.
Hers it was not.

Ber.

King. Now, 'pray you, let me see it; for mine

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
Laf.
1 am sure, I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw

it:

In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name,
Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
I stood ingag'd: but when I had subscrib'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honour
As she had made the overture, she ceas'd,
In heavy satisfaction, and would never
Receive the ring again.

King.
Plutus himself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas
Helen's,

Whoever gave it you: Then if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforce-

ment

You got it from her: she call'd the saints to
surety,

That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,

(Where you have never come,) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber.

She never saw it.

King. Thon speak'st it falsely, as I love mine
honour;

And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,-'twill not prove

And yet I know not:-thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead: which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring.-Take him away.
[Guards seize Bertram.

Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with

him :

We'll sift this matter further.
Ber.

If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was.
[Exit Bertram guarded

not;

Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her business looks in her"
With an importing visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and 1 follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flou rishes, and a poor maid is undone.

DIANA CAPULET.
Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and
toll for him: for this, I'll none of him.
King. The heavens have thought well on thee,
Lafeu,

To

Go, speedily, and bring again the count.
[Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.
I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.
Count.

Now, justice on the doers!
Enter Bertram, guarded.

King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you,

And that you fly them as you swear them lord-
ship,

Yet you desire to marry.-What woman's that?
Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow, and Diana.
Derived from the ancient Capulet :
Dia. 1 am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,

My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and
honour

And both shall cease, without your remedy.
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
King. Come hither, count; Do you know these
women?

Ber. My lord, I neither can, npr will deny But that I know them: Do they charge me further?

Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your
wife?

Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
Dia.
If you shall marry,
You give away heaven's vows, and those are
You give away this hand, and that is mine;
mine;

You give away myself, which is known mine;
That she, which marries you, must marry me,
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
Either both, or none.

too short for my daughter; you are no husband
Laf. Your reputation [To Bertram comes
for her.

Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate] By him, and by this woman here, what know

Good my lord, King. How is that?