fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, I look through thee. Give me thy hand.

Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indig

nity.

521

Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy

Par. I have not, my lord, deserv'd it.

Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not 'bate thee a scruple.

Par. Well, I shall be wiser.

Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say, in the default, he is a man I know.

534

Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable vex

ation.

Laf. I would, it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing, I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave.. [Exit.

Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me: scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord !-Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of—I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

3

Re-enter

Re-enter LAFEU. '

Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, there's news for you: you have a new mistress. 549

Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord; whom I serve above, is my master. Laf. Who God?

Par. Ay, sir.

Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou was created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. 562 Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.

Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit.

Enter BERTRAM.

Par. Good, very good; it is so then.-Good, very

good; let it be conceal'd a while.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!

Eij

572

Par.

Par. What is the matter, sweet heart?

Ber. Altho' before the solemn priest I have sworn,

I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, sweet heart?

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me :I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot: to the wars!

581 Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is,

I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known: to the wars, my boy, to the wars !

He wears his honour in a box, unseen,

That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,

Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed To other regions!

:

France is a stable; we that dwell in't, jades;
Therefore, to the war.

Ber. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house;
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,

And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
That which I durst not speak. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,

Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife

To the dark house, and the detested wife.

590

Par. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll send her straight away: To-morrow

601

I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it.'Tis hard;

A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd:
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:

The king has done you wrong: but, hush! 'tis so.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter HELENA, and Clown.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly; Is she well? Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health: she's very merry; but yet she's not well: but, thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'the world; but yet she is not well.

611

Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well?

Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly!

Enter PAROLLES.

r

Par. Bless you my fortunate lady!

620

E i i j

*Hel.

Hel. I hope sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortune.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave, how does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would, she did, as you say.

Par. Why, I say nothing.

Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. 633 Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave, thou art a knave; that's, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir.

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.

Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter.

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.—
Madam, my lord will go away to-night :
A very serious business calls on him.

The great prerogative and right of love,

643

Which, as your due, time claims, he doth acknow

ledge;

But puts it off by a compell'd restraint:

Whose