Ber. Good morrow, noble Captain. 2 Lord. God bless you, Captain Parolles. 1 Lord. God fave you, noble Captain. 2 Lord. Captain, what Greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France.

1 Lord. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of that fame Sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Roufillon if I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare you well. [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 fhame, 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 burft at this. Captain I'll be no more,
But I will eat and drink, and fleep as soft,
As Captain fhall. 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 thal, be found an afs.
Ruft, fword! cool, blufhes! and, Parolles, live
Safeft in fhame! being fool'd, 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
Florence.

Enter Helena, Widow and Diana.

Hel.

THA

HAT you may well perceive I have not
wrong'd you,

One of the Greatest in the christian world
Shall be my Surety; 'fore whofe Throne 'tis needful,
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel.
Time was, I did him a defired office

D 3

Dear

Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
Through flinty Tartar's bofom would peep forth,
And answer thanks. I duly am inform'd,
His Grace is at Marfeilles, to which place
We have convenient Convoy; you must know,
I am fuppofed 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 fervant, to whose trust
Your bufinefs was more welcome.

Hel. Nor you, Mistress,

Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompenfe 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, O ftrange men!
That can fuch sweet ufe make of what they hate,
When faucy trufting 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 inftructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.

Dia. Let death and honefty
Go with your impofitions, I am yours
Upon your will to fuffer.

Hel. Yet I pray you:

But with the word the time will bring on fummer,
When briars fhall have leaves as well as thorns,
And be as fweet as fharp: 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 fo little Idea of Sense here, that it seems very liable to Sufpicion. How could Time revive these travelling Adventurers?

Mr. Warburton very reasonably conjectures, that we should read, and Time revyes us;

i. e. looks us in the Face, calls upon us to haften.

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Roufillon in France.

Enter Countefs, Lafeu, and Clown.

Laf.

Ni

no, no, your Son was mif-led with a fnipt-taffata fellow there, whofe villainous faffron 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 fon 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 flefh, and coft 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 fuch another herb.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, fhe was the fweet marjoram of the fallet, or rather the herb of grace.

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

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

Laf. Whether doft thou profefs thy felf, a knave or a fool?

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

Laf. Your diftinction ?

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

Laf. So you were a knave at his fervice, indeed. Ch. And I would give his wife my bauble, Sir, to do her fervice.

Laf. I will fubfcribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.

C lo.

D 4

Clo. At your fervice.
Laf. No, no, no.

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

Laf. Who's that, a Frenchman?

Clo. Faith, Sir, he has an English name; but his phifnomy 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 purfe; I give thee not this to feduce thee from thy Mafter thou talk'st of, ferve him ftill.

Clo. I'm a woodland fellow, Sir, that always lov'd a great fire; and the Mafter I fpeak of ever keeps a good fire; but, 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: fome, 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 horfes 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 fhrewd knave, and an unhappy.

Count. So he is. My Lord, that's gone, made himfelf much sport out of him; by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his fawcinefs; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.

Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amifs; and I was about to tell you, fince 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 Mafter to speak in the behalf of my Daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his Majefty, out of a felf-gracious remembrance, did

first propofe; his Highnefs hath promis'd me to do it; and to ftop 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 wish 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 feldom fail'd.

Count. It rejoices me, that, I hope, I fhall fee him. ere I die. I have letters, that my fon will be here to night: I fhall befeech your Lordship to remain with me 'till they meet together.

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might fafely 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 fon with a patch of velvet on's face; whether there be a fcar under't, 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.

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

Clo. But it is your carbonado'd face.

Laf. Let us go fee your fon, 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 moft courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at every man.

[Exeunt.