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pel it of

you ; but fare

Ber. Good morrow, noble Captain.
2 Lord. God bless you, Captain Parolles.
i Lord. God save you, noble Captain.

2 Lord. Captain, what Greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France.

i Lord. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of that same Sonnet you writ to Diana in bebalf of the Count Roufillon if I were not a very coward, I'd com


[Exeunt. Int. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf ; that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a Plot?

Int. If you could find out a Country where but women were that had receiv'd 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 burit this. Captain I'll be no more, But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft, As Captain ihall. Simply the thing I am Shall make me live: who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; 6: i will come to pass, That every braggarı ihal, be found an ass. Ruit, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live Safest in Thame! being food, by fool'ry thrive ; There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them.

[Exit. SCENE changes to the Widow's House, at


Enter Helena, Widow and Diana.


Hel. HAT you may well perceive I have not

wrong'd you, One of the Greatest in the christian world Shall be my Sarety : 'fore whose Throne 'cis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. Time was, I did him a desired office


D 3

Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
Through finty Tartar's bofom would peep 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,
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 heav'n
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, О strange men!
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When faucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night; fo luft 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 fuffer.

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,
(23) Our Waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us ;

(23) Our Waggon is prepar'd, and Time revives us ;] The Word revives conveys so little idea of Sense here, that it seems very liable to Suspicion. How could Time revive these tra. velling Adventurers : Mr. Warburton very reasonably conje&ures, that we fould read,

and Time revyes us ; i. e. looks us in the Face, calls upon us to haften.


All's well, that ends well ; still the fine's the crown ; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Rousillon in France.

Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.


O, no, no, your Son was mif-led with a

saffron would have made all the unbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour; and your son here at home, more advanc'd by the King than by. that red-tail'd humblebee 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 fesh, and cost me the deareft 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 fallets ere we light on such another herb.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the fallet, or rather the herb of grace.

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

Cbo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, Sir, I have not much skill in grass.

Laf. Whether doft thou profess thy self, a knave or a fool ?

Clo. A fool, Sir, at a woman's service ; and a knave, at a man's.

Laf. Your distinction ?

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


service. Laf. No, no, no.

Clo. Why, Sir, if I cannot serve you, I can ferve as great a Prince as you are.

Laf. Who's that, a Frenchman?

Cle. 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 seduce thee from thy Mafter thou talk'it of, serve him still.

Clo. I'm a woodland fellow, Sir, that always lov'd a great fire; and the Master I speak of ever keeps a good fire; bat, fure, he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobility remain in's Court. I am for the House with the narrow gate, which I take to be too litttle for Pomp to enter : lome, that humble themselves, may: but the many will be too chill and tender, and they'll be for the flow'ry 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 fo before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways, let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks.

Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, 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 fawciness; 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 mov'd 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 promis'd me to do it ; and to stop up the displeasure he hath conceiv'd against your fon, there is no fitter matter. How do's your Ladyship like it?

Count. With very much content, my Lord, and I with it happily effected.

Laf. His Highness comes poft from Marseilles, of as able a body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here to morrow, or I am deceiv'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd.

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: I shall beseech your Lordship to remain with me 'till they meet together.

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, I thank my God, it holds yet.

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't, or no, the velvet knows, but ’tis a goodly patch of vel. vet; his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

Count. A scar nobly got, or a noble fcar, is a good livery of honour. So, belike, is that.

Clo. But it is your carbonado'd face.

Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble foldier.

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.


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