All's Well, that Ends Well

 
 Actus primus. Scoena Prima.
 
 Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena,
 Lord
 Lafew, all in blacke.
 
   Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second
 husband
 
    Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my
 fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties
 command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore
 in subiection
 
    Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame,
 you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good,
 must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse
 would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack
 it where there is such abundance
 
    Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?
   Laf. He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder
 whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope,
 and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely
 the loosing of hope by time
 
    Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that
 had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as
 great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue
 made nature immortall, and death should haue play for
 lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing,
 I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease
 
    Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?
   Mo. He was famous sir in his profession, and it was
 his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon
 
    Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very
 latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee
 was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could
 be set vp against mortallitie
 
    Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes
 of?
   Laf. A Fistula my Lord
 
    Ros. I heard not of it before
 
    Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman
 the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
   Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my
 ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her
 education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which
 makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries
 vertuous qualities, there commendations go with
 pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are
 the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie,
 and atcheeues her goodnesse
 
    Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her
 teares
 
    Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise
 in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her
 heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood
 from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no
 more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then
 to haue-
   Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too
 
    Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
 excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing
 
    Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse
 makes it soone mortall
 
    Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes
 
    Laf. How vnderstand we that?
   Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy father
 In manners as in shape: thy blood and vertue
 Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesse
 Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,
 Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemie
 Rather in power then vse: and keepe thy friend
 Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,
 But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,
 That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,
 Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,
 'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my Lord
 Aduise him
 
    Laf. He cannot want the best
 That shall attend his loue
 
    Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram
 
    Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts
 be seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your
 Mistris, and make much of her
 
    Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit
 of your father
 
    Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,
 And these great teares grace his remembrance more
 Then those I shed for him. What was he like?
 I haue forgott him. My imagination
 Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.
 I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,
 If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,
 That I should loue a bright particuler starre,
 And think to wed it, he is so aboue me
 In his bright radience and colaterall light,
 Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;
 Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:
 The hind that would be mated by the Lion
 Must die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plague
 To see him euerie houre to sit and draw
 His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles
 In our hearts table: heart too capeable
 Of euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.
 But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancie
 Must sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?
 Enter Parrolles.
 
 One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,
 And yet I know him a notorious Liar,
 Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,
 Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,
 That they take place, when Vertues steely bones
 Lookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we see
 Cold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie
 
    Par. Saue you faire Queene
 
    Hel. And you Monarch
 
    Par. No
 
    Hel. And no
 
    Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?
   Hel. I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Let
 mee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,
 how may we barracado it against him?
   Par. Keepe him out
 
    Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant,
 in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like
 resistance
 
    Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you,
 will vndermine you, and blow you vp
 
    Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers
 and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins
 might blow vp men?
   Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will
 quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe
 againe, with the breach your selues made, you lose your
 Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of
 Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is
 rationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till
 virginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall
 to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost,
 may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer
 lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't
 
    Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die
 a Virgin
 
    Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the
 rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is
 to accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience.
 He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie
 murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes
 out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against
 Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like a
 Cheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and so
 dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie
 is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which
 is the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not,
 you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: within
 ten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase,
 and the principall it selfe not much the worse.
 Away with't
 
    Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne
 liking?
   Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're
 it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying:
 The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tis
 vendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie like
 an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly
 suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick,
 which were not now: your Date is better in your
 Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your
 virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French
 wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a
 wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a
 wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it?
   Hel. Not my virginity yet:
 There shall your Master haue a thousand loues,
 A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend,
 A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,
 A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne,
 A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare:
 His humble ambition, proud humility:
 His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet:
 His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world
 Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes
 That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he:
 I know not what he shall, God send him well,
 The Courts a learning place, and he is one
 
    Par. What one ifaith?
   Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty
 
    Par. What's pitty?
   Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
 Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,
 Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,
 Might with effects of them follow our friends,
 And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuer
 Returnes vs thankes.
 Enter Page.
 
   Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,
 My Lord cals for you
 
    Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I
 will thinke of thee at Court
 
    Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder a
 charitable starre
 
    Par. Vnder Mars I
 
    Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars
 
    Par. Why vnder Mars?
   Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that you
 must needes be borne vnder Mars
 
    Par. When he was predominant
 
    Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather
 
    Par. Why thinke you so?
   Hel. You go so much backward when you fight
 
    Par. That's for aduantage
 
    Hel. So is running away,
 When feare proposes the safetie:
 But the composition that your valour and feare makes
 in you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like the
 weare well
 
    Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere
 thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the
 which my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, so
 thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand
 what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou
 diest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes
 thee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thy
 praiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends:
 Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee:
 So farewell
 
    Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,
 Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skye
 Giues vs free scope, onely doth backward pull
 Our slow designes, when we our selues are dull.
 What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,
 That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?
 The mightiest space in fortune, Nature brings
 To ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.
 Impossible be strange attempts to those
 That weigh their paines in sence, and do suppose
 What hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroue
 To shew her merit, that did misse her loue?
 (The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,
 But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.
 
 Exit
 
 Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuers
 Attendants.
 
   King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,
 Haue fought with equall fortune, and continue
 A brauing warre
 
    1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir
 
    King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,
 A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,
 With caution, that the Florentine will moue vs
 For speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friend
 Preiudicates the businesse, and would seeme
 To haue vs make deniall
 
    1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome
 Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade
 For amplest credence
 
    King. He hath arm'd our answer,
 And Florence is deni'de before he comes:
 Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to see
 The Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaue
 To stand on either part
 
    2.Lo.E. It well may serue
 A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke
 For breathing, and exploit
 
    King. What's he comes heere.
 Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.
 
   1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,
 Yong Bertram
 
    King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,
 Franke Nature rather curious then in hast
 Hath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall parts
 Maist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris
 
    Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties
 
    Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,
 As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendship
 First tride our souldiership: he did looke farre
 Into the seruice of the time, and was
 Discipled of the brauest. He lasted long,
 But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,
 And wore vs out of act: It much repaires me
 To talke of your good father; in his youth
 He had the wit, which I can well obserue
 To day in our yong Lords: but they may iest
 Till their owne scorne returne to them vnnoted
 Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour:
 So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesse
 Were in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,
 His equall had awak'd them, and his honour
 Clocke to it selfe, knew the true minute when
 Exception bid him speake: and at this time
 His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,
 He vs'd as creatures of another place,
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,
 Making them proud of his humilitie,
 In their poore praise he humbled: Such a man
 Might be a copie to these yonger times;
 Which followed well, would demonstrate them now
 But goers backward
 
    Ber. His good remembrance sir
 Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:
 So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,
 As in your royall speech
 
    King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say,
 (Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue words
 He scatter'd not in eares, but grafted them
 To grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,
 This his good melancholly oft began
 On the Catastrophe and heele of pastime
 When it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)
 After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffe
 Of yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue senses
 All but new things disdaine; whose iudgements are
 Meere fathers of their garments: whose constancies
 Expire before their fashions: this he wish'd.
 I after him, do after him wish too:
 Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,
 I quickly were dissolued from my hiue
 To giue some Labourers roome
 
    2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,
 They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first
 
    Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count
 Since the Physitian at your fathers died?
 He was much fam'd
 
    Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord
 
    Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.
 Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me out
 With seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesse
 Debate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,
 My sonne's no deerer
 
    Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.
 
 Exit
 
 Flourish.
 
 Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.
 
   Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman
 
    Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content,
 I wish might be found in the Kalender of my past
 endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make
 foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selues
 we publish them
 
    Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone
 sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue,
 'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know you
 lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough
 to make such knaueries yours
 
    Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore
 fellow
 
    Coun. Well sir
 
    Clo. No maddam,
 'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie
 of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships
 good will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and I
 will doe as we may
 
    Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?
   Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case
 
    Cou. In what case?
   Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage,
 and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,
 till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings
 
    Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?
   Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuen
 on by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuell
 driues
 
    Cou. Is this all your worships reason?
   Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such as
 they are
 
    Cou. May the world know them?
   Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you
 and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that
 I may repent
 
    Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse
 
    Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue
 friends for my wiues sake
 
    Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue
 
    Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the
 knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of:
 he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee
 leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my
 drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of
 my flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and
 blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues my flesh
 and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my
 friend: if men could be contented to be what they are,
 there were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the
 Puritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere their
 hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,
 they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd
 
    Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious
 knaue?
   Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the
 next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full
 true shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, your
 Cuckow sings by kinde
 
    Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon
 
    Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellen
 come to you, of her I am to speake
 
    Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake with
 her, Hellen I meane
 
    Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,
 Why the Grecians sacked Troy,
 Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,
 With that she sighed as she stood,
 
 bis
 
 And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be
 good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one
 good in ten
 
    Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song
 sirra
 
    Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying
 ath' song: would God would serue the world so
 all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman
 if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might
 haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre,
 or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a
 man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one
 
    Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command
 you?
   Clo. That man should be at womans command, and
 yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet
 it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie
 ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going
 forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither.
 Enter.
 
   Cou. Well now
 
    Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman
 intirely
 
    Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,
 and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie
 make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is
 more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid
 her then sheele demand
 
    Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then
 I thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and did
 communicate to her selfe her owne words to her
 owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they
 toucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee
 loued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse,
 that had put such difference betwixt their two
 estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might
 onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins,
 that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'd
 without rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward:
 This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of
 sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held
 my dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence in
 the losse that may happen, it concernes you something
 to know it
 
    Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it
 to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this
 before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that
 I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you
 leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke
 you for your honest care: I will speake with you further
 anon.
 
 Exit Steward.
 
 Enter Hellen.
 
   Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:
 If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorne
 Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong
 Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,
 It is the show, and seale of natures truth,
 Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,
 By our remembrances of daies forgon,
 Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,
 Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now
 
    Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?
   Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you
 
    Hell. Mine honorable Mistris
 
    Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I
 sed a mother
 Me thought you saw a serpent, what's in mother,
 That you start at it? I say I am your mother,
 And put you in the Catalogue of those
 That were enwombed mine, 'tis often seene
 Adoption striues with nature, and choise breedes
 A natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:
 You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,
 Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,
 (Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood
 To say I am thy mother? what's the matter,
 That this distempered messenger of wet?
 The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are my
 daughter?
   Hell. That I am not
 
    Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother
 
    Hell. Pardon Madam.
 The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:
 I am from humble, he from honored name:
 No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,
 My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I
 His seruant liue, and will his vassall die:
 He must not be my brother
 
    Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother
 
    Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were
 So that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,
 Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,
 I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,
 So I were not his sister, cant no other,
 But I your daughter, he must be my brother
 
    Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,
 God shield you meane it not, daughter and mother
 So striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?
 My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I see
 The mistrie of your louelinesse, and finde
 Your salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:
 You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd
 Against the proclamation of thy passion
 To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,
 But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes
 Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eies
 See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,
 That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinne
 And hellish obstinacie tye thy tongue
 That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?
 If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:
 If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
 As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile
 To tell me truelie
 
    Hell. Good Madam pardon me
 
    Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?
   Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris
 
    Cou. Loue you my Sonne?
   Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?
   Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond
 Whereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:
 The state of your affection, for your passions
 Haue to the full appeach'd
 
    Hell. Then I confesse
 Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,
 That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your
 Sonne:
 My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:
 Be not offended, for it hurts not him
 That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not
 By any token of presumptuous suite,
 Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,
 Yet neuer know how that desert should be:
 I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:
 Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.
 I still poure in the waters of my loue
 And lacke not to loose still; thus Indian like
 Religious in mine error, I adore
 The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,
 But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,
 Let not your hate incounter with my loue,
 For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,
 Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,
 Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,
 Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your Dian
 Was both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittie
 To her whose state is such, that cannot choose
 But lend and giue where she is sure to loose;
 That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,
 But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies
 
    Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,
 To goe to Paris?
   Hell. Madam I had
 
    Cou. Wherefore? tell true
 
    Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:
 You know my Father left me some prescriptions
 Of rare and prou'd effects, such as his reading
 And manifest experience, had collected
 For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me
 In heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,
 As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,
 More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,
 There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,
 To cure the desperate languishings whereof
 The King is render'd lost
 
    Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?
   Hell. My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;
 Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,
 Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,
 Happily beene absent then
 
    Cou. But thinke you Hellen,
 If you should tender your supposed aide,
 He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions
 Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:
 They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit
 A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles
 Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off
 The danger to it selfe
 
    Hell. There's something in't
 More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st
 Of his profession, that his good receipt,
 Shall for my legacie be sanctified
 Byth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor
 But giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de venture
 The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,
 By such a day, an houre
 
    Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?
   Hell. I Madam knowingly
 
    Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,
 Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings
 To those of mine in Court, Ile staie at home
 And praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:
 Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,
 What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 
 Actus Secundus.
 
 Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the
 Florentine
 warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.
 
   King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principles
 Doe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell:
 Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, all
 The guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd,
 And is enough for both
 
    Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,
 After well entred souldiers, to returne
 And finde your grace in health
 
    King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
 Will not confesse he owes the mallady
 That doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords,
 Whether I liue or die, be you the sonnes
 Of worthy French men: let higher Italy
 (Those bated that inherit but the fall
 Of the last Monarchy) see that you come
 Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when
 The brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke,
 That fame may cry you loud: I say farewell
 
    L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty
 
    King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,
 They say our French, lacke language to deny
 If they demand: beware of being Captiues
 Before you serue
 
    Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings
 
    King. Farewell, come hether to me
 
    1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs
 
    Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark
 
    2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres
 
    Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres
 
    Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,
 Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early
 
    Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,
 Steale away brauely
 
    Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke,
 Creeking my shooes on the plaine Masonry,
 Till honour be bought vp, and no sword worne
 But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away
 
    1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft
 
    Parr. Commit it Count
 
    2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell
 
    Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body
 
    1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine
 
    2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles
 
    Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne,
 good sparkes and lustrous, a word good mettals. You
 shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine
 Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on
 his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it:
 say to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me
 
    Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine
 
    Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what will
 ye doe?
   Ross. Stay the King
 
    Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble
 Lords, you haue restrain'd your selfe within the List of
 too cold an adieu: be more expressiue to them; for they
 weare themselues in the cap of the time, there do muster
 true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of
 the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the
 measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a
 more dilated farewell
 
    Ross. And I will doe so
 
    Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie
 sword-men.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Enter Lafew.
 
   L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings
 
    King. Ile see thee to stand vp
 
    L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon,
 I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,
 And that at my bidding you could so stand vp
 
    King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate
 And askt thee mercy for't
 
    Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,
 Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?
   King. No
 
    Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?
 Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if
 My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicine
 That's able to breath life into a stone,
 Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari
 With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch
 Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay
 To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand
 And write to her a loue-line
 
    King. What her is this?
   Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,
 If you will see her: now by my faith and honour,
 If seriously I may conuay my thoughts
 In this my light deliuerance, I haue spoke
 With one, that in her sexe, her yeeres, profession,
 Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee more
 Then I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her?
 For that is her demand, and know her businesse?
 That done, laugh well at me
 
    King. Now good Lafew,
 Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
 May spend our wonder too, or take off thine
 By wondring how thou tookst it
 
    Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,
 And not be all day neither
 
    King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues
 
    Laf. Nay, come your waies.
 Enter Hellen.
 
   King. This haste hath wings indeed
 
    Laf. Nay, come your waies,
 This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him,
 A Traitor you doe looke like, but such traitors
 His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds Vncle,
 That dare leaue two together, far you well.
 Enter.
 
   King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?
   Hel. I my good Lord,
 Gerard de Narbon was my father,
 In what he did professe, well found
 
    King. I knew him
 
    Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him,
 Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,
 Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,
 Which as the dearest issue of his practice
 And of his olde experience, th' onlie darling,
 He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,
 Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so,
 And hearing your high Maiestie is toucht
 With that malignant cause, wherein the honour
 Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheefe in power,
 I come to tender it, and my appliance,
 With all bound humblenesse
 
    King. We thanke you maiden,
 But may not be so credulous of cure,
 When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and
 The congregated Colledge haue concluded,
 That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature
 From her inaydible estate: I say we must not
 So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,
 To prostitute our past-cure malladie
 To empericks, or to disseuer so
 Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme
 A sencelesse helpe, when helpe past sence we deeme
 
    Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines:
 I will no more enforce mine office on you,
 Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,
 A modest one to beare me backe againe
 
    King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:
 Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thankes I giue,
 As one neere death to those that wish him liue:
 But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,
 I knowing all my perill, thou no Art
 
    Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,
 Since you set vp your rest 'gainst remedie:
 He that of greatest workes is finisher,
 Oft does them by the weakest minister:
 So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne,
 When Iudges haue bin babes; great flouds haue flowne
 From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried
 When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied.
 Oft expectation failes, and most oft there
 Where most it promises: and oft it hits,
 Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts
 
    King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,
 Thy paines not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid,
 Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward
 
    Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard,
 It is not so with him that all things knowes
 As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:
 But most it is presumption in vs, when
 The help of heauen we count the act of men.
 Deare sir, to my endeauors giue consent,
 Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.
 I am not an Imposture, that proclaime
 My selfe against the leuill of mine aime,
 But know I thinke, and thinke I know most sure,
 My Art is not past power, nor you past cure
 
    King. Art thou so confident? Within what space
 Hop'st thou my cure?
   Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
 Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring
 Their fiery torcher his diurnall ring,
 Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe
 Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe:
 Or foure and twenty times the Pylots glasse
 Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:
 What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie,
 Health shall liue free, and sickenesse freely dye
 
    King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence,
 What dar'st thou venter?
   Hell. Taxe of impudence,
 A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame
 Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name
 Seard otherwise, ne worse of worst extended
 With vildest torture, let my life be ended
 
    Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
 His powerfull sound, within an organ weake:
 And what impossibility would slay
 In common sence, sence saues another way:
 Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate
 Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
 Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all
 That happines and prime, can happy call:
 Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
 Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,
 Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try,
 That ministers thine owne death if I die
 
    Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property
 Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die,
 And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee,
 But if I helpe, what doe you promise me
 
    Kin. Make thy demand
 
    Hel. But will you make it euen?
   Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe
 
    Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand
 What husband in thy power I will command:
 Exempted be from me the arrogance
 To choose from forth the royall bloud of France,
 My low and humble name to propagate
 With any branch or image of thy state:
 But such a one thy vassall, whom I know
 Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow
 
    Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd,
 Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd:
 So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
 Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye:
 More should I question thee, and more I must,
 Though more to know, could not be more to trust:
 From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest
 Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest.
 Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed,
 As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
 
 Florish. Exit.
 
 Enter Countesse and Clowne.
 
   Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height
 of your breeding
 
    Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly
 taught, I know my businesse is but to the Court
 
    Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall,
 when you put off that with such contempt, but to
 the Court?
   Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners,
 hee may easilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot
 make a legge, put off's cap, kisse his hand, and say nothing,
 has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and indeed
 such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the
 Court, but for me, I haue an answere will serue all men
 
    Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all
 questions
 
    Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes,
 the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke,
 or any buttocke
 
    Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions?
   Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney,
 as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, as
 Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for Shroue-tuesday,
 a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole,
 the Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a
 wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth,
 nay as the pudding to his skin
 
    Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for
 all questions?
   Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable,
 it will fit any question
 
    Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size,
 that must fit all demands
 
    Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned
 should speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs
 to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no
 harme to learne
 
    Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a
 foole in question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer
 
    La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?
   Clo. O Lord sir theres a simple putting off: more,
 more, a hundred of them
 
    La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you
 
    Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me
 
    La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely
 meate
 
    Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you
 
    La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke
 
    Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me
 
    La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and
 spare not me? Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent
 to your whipping: you would answere very well to a
 whipping if you were but bound too't
 
    Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord
 sir: I see things may serue long, but not serue euer
 
    La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine
 it so merrily with a foole
 
    Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen
 
    La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this,
 And vrge her to a present answer backe,
 Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,
 This is not much
 
    Clo. Not much commendation to them
 
    La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand
 me
 
    Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges
 
    La. Hast you agen.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.
 
   Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our
 Philosophicall persons, to make moderne and familiar
 things supernaturall and causelesse. Hence is it, that we
 make trifles of terrours, ensconcing our selues into seeming
 knowledge, when we should submit our selues to
 an vnknowne feare
 
    Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that
 hath shot out in our latter times
 
    Ros. And so 'tis
 
    Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists
 
    Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus
 
    Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes
 
    Par. Right so I say
 
    Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable
 
    Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too
 
    Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd
 
    Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-
   Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life, and sure death
 
    Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said
 
    Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world
 
    Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you
 shall reade it in what do ye call there
 
    Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly
 Actor
 
    Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same
 
    Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee
 I speake in respect-
   Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the
 breefe and the tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious
 spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the-
   Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen
 
    Par. I, so I say
 
    Ol.Laf. In a most weake-
   Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence,
 which should indeede giue vs a further vse to
 be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee
   Old Laf. Generally thankfull.
 Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.
 
   Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes
 the King
 
    Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a
 maide the Better whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why
 he's able to leade her a Carranto
 
    Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?
   Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke so
 
    King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court,
 Sit my preseruer by thy patients side,
 And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence
 Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receyue
 The confirmation of my promis'd guift,
 Which but attends thy naming.
 Enter 3 or 4 Lords.
 
 Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell
 Of Noble Batchellors, stand at my bestowing,
 Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice
 I haue to vse; thy franke election make,
 Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake
 
    Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris;
 Fall when loue please, marry to each but one
 
    Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture
 My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,
 And writ as little beard
 
    King. Peruse them well:
 Not one of those, but had a Noble father.
 
 She addresses her to a Lord.
 
   Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd
 the king to health
 
    All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you
 
    Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest
 That I protest, I simply am a Maide:
 Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already:
 The blushes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,
 We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;
 Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer,
 Wee'l nere come there againe
 
    King. Make choise and see,
 Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee
 
    Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,
 And to imperiall loue, that God most high
 Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite?
   1.Lo. And grant it
 
    Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute
 
    Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw
 Ames-ace for my life
 
    Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes,
 Before I speake too threatningly replies:
 Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue
 Her that so wishes, and her humble loue
 
    2.Lo. No better if you please
 
    Hel. My wish receiue,
 Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue
 
    Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons
 of mine, I'de haue them whip'd, or I would send them
 to'th Turke to make Eunuches of
 
    Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,
 Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne sake:
 Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed
 Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed
 
    Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none
 haue heere: sure they are bastards to the English, the
 French nere got em
 
    La. You are too young, too happie, and too good
 To make your selfe a sonne out of my blood
 
    4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so
 
    Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father
 drunke wine. But if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth
 of fourteene: I haue knowne thee already
 
    Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue
 Me and my seruice, euer whilst I liue
 Into your guiding power: This is the man
 
    King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy
 wife
 
    Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes
 In such a busines, giue me leaue to vse
 The helpe of mine owne eies
 
    King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's
 done for mee?
   Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know
 why I should marrie her
 
    King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly
 bed
 
    Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe
 Must answer for your raising? I knowe her well:
 Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
 A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine
 Rather corrupt me euer
 
    King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which
 I can build vp: strange is it that our bloods
 Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together,
 Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off
 In differences so mightie. If she bee
 All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st)
 A poore Phisitians daughter, thou dislik'st
 Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:
 From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed,
 The place is dignified by th' doers deede.
 Where great additions swell's, and vertue none,
 It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,
 Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:
 The propertie by what is is, should go,
 Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire,
 In these, to Nature shee's immediate heire:
 And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,
 Which challenges it selfe as honours borne,
 And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,
 When rather from our acts we them deriue
 Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue
 Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
 A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,
 Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
 Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?
 If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,
 I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee
 Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee
 
    Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't
 
    King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue
 to choose
 
    Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
 Let the rest go
 
    King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate
 I must produce my power. Heere, take her hand,
 Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,
 That dost in vile misprision shackle vp
 My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame,
 We poizing vs in her defectiue scale,
 Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,
 It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where
 We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:
 Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:
 Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie
 Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right
 Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes,
 Or I will throw thee from my care for euer
 Into the staggers, and the carelesse lapse
 Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate
 Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice,
 Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer
 
    Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit
 My fancie to your eies, when I consider
 What great creation, and what dole of honour
 Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late
 Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now
 The praised of the King, who so ennobled,
 Is as 'twere borne so
 
    King. Take her by the hand,
 And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
 A counterpoize: If not to thy estate,
 A ballance more repleat
 
    Ber. I take her hand
 
    Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King
 Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie
 Shall seeme expedient on the now borne briefe,
 And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast
 Shall more attend vpon the coming space,
 Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her,
 Thy loue's to me Religious: else, do's erre.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.
 
   Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you
 
    Par. Your pleasure sir
 
    Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation
 
    Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?
   Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?
   Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode
 without bloudie succeeding. My Master?
   Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?
   Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man
 
    Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of
 another stile
 
    Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are
 too old
 
    Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which
 title age cannot bring thee
 
    Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do
 
    Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a
 prettie wise fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of
 thy trauell, it might passe: yet the scarffes and the bannerets
 about thee, did manifoldlie disswade me from beleeuing
 thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now
 found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art
 thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt
 scarce worth
 
    Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon
 thee
 
    Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least
 thou hasten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on
 thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee
 well, thy casement I neede not open, for I look through
 thee. Giue me thy hand
 
    Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity
 
    Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it
 
    Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it
 
    Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will
 not bate thee a scruple
 
    Par. Well, I shall be wiser
 
    Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull
 at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound
 in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be
 proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire to holde my acquaintance
 with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I
 may say in the default, he is a man I know
 
    Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation
 
    Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my
 poore doing eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by
 thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue.
 Enter.
 
   Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace
 off me; scuruy, old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must
 be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate
 him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience,
 and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue
 no more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile
 beate him, and if I could but meet him agen.
 Enter Lafew.
 
   Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's
 newes for you: you haue a new Mistris
 
    Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to
 make some reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good
 Lord, whom I serue aboue is my master
 
    Laf. Who? God
 
    Par. I sir
 
    Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest
 thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose
 of thy sleeues? Do other seruants so? Thou wert best set
 thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine Honor,
 if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'st
 thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold
 beate thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath
 themselues vpon thee
 
    Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord
 
    Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking
 a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and
 no true traueller: you are more sawcie with Lordes and
 honourable personages, then the Commission of your
 birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth
 another word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.
 
 Exit
 
 Enter Count Rossillion.
 
   Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very
 good, let it be conceal'd awhile
 
    Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer
 
    Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?
   Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue
 sworne, I will not bed her
 
    Par. What? what sweet heart?
   Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:
 Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her
 
    Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,
 The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres
 
    Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import
 is, I know not yet
 
    Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy,
 too'th warres:
 He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene,
 That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home,
 Spending his manlie marrow in her armes
 Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet
 Of Marses fierie steed: to other Regions,
 France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades,
 Therefore too'th warre
 
    Ros. It shall be so, Ile 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 speake. His present gift
 Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
 Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife
 To the darke house, and the detected wife
 
    Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?
   Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.
 Ile send her straight away: To morrow,
 Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow
 
    Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard
 A yong man maried, is a man that's mard:
 Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go,
 The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.
 
 Exit
 
 Enter Helena and Clowne.
 
   Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well?
   Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's
 very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen
 she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but
 yet she is not well
 
    Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's
 not verie well?
   Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things
   Hel. What two things?
   Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send
 her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence
 God send her quickly.
 Enter Parolles.
 
   Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie
 
    Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine
 owne good fortune
 
    Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to
 keepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do's
 my old Ladie?
   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 mans
 tongue shakes out his masters vndoing: to say nothing,
 to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing,
 is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie
 little of nothing
 
    Par. Away, th'art a knaue
 
    Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a
 knaue, that's before me th'art a knaue: this had beene
 truth sir
 
    Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found
 thee
 
    Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you
 taught to finde me?
   Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole
 may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the
 encrease of laughter
 
    Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed.
 Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night,
 A verie serrious businesse call's on him:
 The great prerogatiue and rite of loue,
 Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge,
 But puts it off to a compell'd restraint:
 Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets
 Which they distill now in the curbed time,
 To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy,
 And pleasure drowne the brim
 
    Hel. What's his will else?
   Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king,
 And make this hast as your owne good proceeding,
 Strengthned with what Apologie you thinke
 May make it probable neede
 
    Hel. What more commands hee?
   Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie
 Attend his further pleasure
 
    Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will
 
    Par. I shall report it so.
 
 Exit Par.
 
   Hell. I pray you come sirrah.
 
 Exit
 
 Enter Lafew and Bertram.
 
   Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a
 souldier
 
    Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe
 
    Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance
 
    Ber. And by other warranted testimonie
 
    Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larke
 for a bunting
 
    Ber. I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge,
 and accordinglie valiant
 
    Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and
 transgrest against his valour, and my state that way is
 dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent:
 Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pursue
 the amitie.
 Enter Parolles.
 
   Par. These things shall be done sir
 
    Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?
   Par. Sir?
   Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman,
 a verie good Tailor
 
    Ber. Is shee gone to the king?
   Par. Shee is
 
    Ber. Will shee away to night?
   Par. As you'le haue her
 
    Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure,
 Giuen order for our horses, and to night,
 When I should take possession of the Bride,
 And ere I doe begin
 
    Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end
 of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vses a
 known truth to passe a thousand nothings with, should
 bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God saue you Captaine
 
    Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and
 you Monsieur?
   Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my
 Lords displeasure
 
    Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and
 spurres and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and
 out of it you'le runne againe, rather then suffer question
 for your residence
 
    Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord
 
    Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's
 prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of
 me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut: the soule
 of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in matter of
 heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know
 their natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better
 of you, then you haue or will to deserue at my hand, but
 we must do good against euill
 
    Par. An idle Lord, I sweare
 
    Ber. I thinke so
 
    Par. Why do you not know him?
   Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
 Giues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.
 Enter Helena.
 
   Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you
 Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue
 For present parting, onely he desires
 Some priuate speech with you
 
    Ber. I shall obey his will.
 You must not meruaile Helen at my course,
 Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
 The ministration, and required office
 On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
 For such a businesse, therefore am I found
 So much vnsetled: This driues me to intreate you,
 That presently you take your way for home,
 And rather muse then aske why I intreate you,
 For my respects are better then they seeme,
 And my appointments haue in them a neede
 Greater then shewes it selfe at the first view,
 To you that know them not. This to my mother,
 'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, so
 I leaue you to your wisedome
 
    Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
 But that I am your most obedient seruant
 
    Ber. Come, come, no more of that
 
    Hel. And euer shall
 With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that
 Wherein toward me my homely starres haue faild
 To equall my great fortune
 
    Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell:
 Hie home
 
    Hel. Pray sir your pardon
 
    Ber. Well, what would you say?
   Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe,
 Nor dare I say 'tis mine: and yet it is,
 But like a timorous theefe, most faine would steale
 What law does vouch mine owne
 
    Ber. What would you haue?
   Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed,
 I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes,
 Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse
 
    Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse
 
    Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord:
 Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell.
 
 Exit
 
   Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come,
 Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme:
 Away, and for our flight
 
    Par. Brauely, Coragio.
 
 Actus Tertius.
 
 Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a
 troope of
 Souldiers.
 
   Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard
 The fundamentall reasons of this warre,
 Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
 And more thirsts after
 
    1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell
 Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull
 On the opposer
 
    Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France
 Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome
 Against our borrowing prayers
 
    French E. Good my Lord,
 The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde,
 But like a common and an outward man,
 That the great figure of a Counsaile frames,
 By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare not
 Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found
 My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile
 As often as I guest
 
    Duke. Be it his pleasure
 
    Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,
 That surfet on their ease, will day by day
 Come heere for Physicke
 
    Duke. Welcome shall they bee:
 And all the honors that can flye from vs,
 Shall on them settle: you know your places well,
 When better fall, for your auailes they fell,
 To morrow to'th the field.
 
 Flourish.
 
 Enter Countesse and Clowne.
 
   Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue
 that he comes not along with her
 
    Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie
 melancholly man
 
    Count. By what obseruance I pray you
 
    Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing:
 mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke
 his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of
 melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song
 
    Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes
 to come
 
    Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court.
 Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing
 like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains
 of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an
 old man loues money, with no stomacke
 
    Lad. What haue we heere?
   Clo. In that you haue there.
 
 Exit
 
 A Letter.
 
 I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the
 King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her,
 and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am
 runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee
 bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My
 duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne,
 Bertram.
 This is not well rash and vnbridled boy,
 To flye the fauours of so good a King,
 To plucke his indignation on thy head,
 By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous
 For the contempt of Empire.
 Enter Clowne.
 
   Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene
 two souldiers, and my yong Ladie
 
    La. What is the matter
 
    Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some
 comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght
 he would
 
    La. Why should he be kill'd?
   Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he
 does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of
 men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they
 come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your
 sonne was run away.
 Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.
 
   French E. Saue you good Madam
 
    Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone
 
    French G. Do not say so
 
    La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,
 I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe,
 That the first face of neither on the start
 Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?
   Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence,
 We met him thitherward, for thence we came:
 And after some dispatch in hand at Court,
 Thither we bend againe
 
    Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport.
 When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer
 shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie,
 that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then)
 I write a Neuer.
 This is a dreadfull sentence
 
    La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?
   1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorrie
 for our paines
 
    Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,
 If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine,
 Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,
 But I do wash his name out of my blood,
 And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?
   Fren.G. I Madam
 
    La. And to be a souldier
 
    Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu't
 The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor
 That good conuenience claimes
 
    La. Returne you thither
 
    Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed
 
    Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,
 'Tis bitter
 
    La. Finde you that there?
   Hel. I Madame
 
    Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which
 his heart was not consenting too
 
    Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:
 There's nothing heere that is too good for him
 But onely she, and she deserues a Lord
 That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon,
 And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him?
   Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which I
 haue sometime knowne
 
    La. Parolles was it not?
   Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee
 
    La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse,
 My sonne corrupts a well deriued nature
 With his inducement
 
    Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of
 that, too much, which holds him much to haue
 
    La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you
 when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can
 neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate
 you written to beare along
 
    Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your
 worthiest affaires
 
    La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies,
 Will you draw neere?
 Enter.
 
   Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.
 Nothing in France vntill he has no wife:
 Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France,
 Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I
 That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose
 Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent
 Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I,
 That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou
 Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke
 Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,
 That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
 Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire
 That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
 Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.
 Who euer charges on his forward brest
 I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
 And though I kill him not, I am the cause
 His death was so effected: Better 'twere
 I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd
 With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
 That all the miseries which nature owes
 Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,
 Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre,
 As oft it looses all. I will be gone:
 My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,
 Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although
 The ayre of Paradise did fan the house,
 And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,
 That pittifull rumour may report my flight
 To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day,
 For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.
 Enter.
 
 
 Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and
 trumpets,
 soldiers, Parrolles.
 
   Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we
 Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence
 Vpon thy promising fortune
 
    Ber. Sir it is
 A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
 Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,
 To th' extreme edge of hazard
 
    Duke. Then go thou forth,
 And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme
 As thy auspicious mistris
 
    Ber. This very day
 Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,
 Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue
 A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
 
 Exeunt. omnes
 Enter Countesse & Steward.
 
   La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:
 Might you not know she would do, as she has done,
 By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.
 
 Letter.
 
 I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone:
 Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,
 That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon
 With sainted vow my faults to haue amended
 Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre,
 My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie,
 Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,
 His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:
 His taken labours bid him me forgiue:
 I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,
 From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue,
 Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.
 He is too good and faire for death, and mee,
 Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free.
 Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words?
 Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,
 As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,
 I could haue well diuerted her intents,
 Which thus she hath preuented
 
    Ste. Pardon me Madam,
 If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,
 She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes
 Pursuite would be but vaine
 
    La. What Angell shall
 Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,
 Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare
 And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath
 Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,
 To this vnworthy husband of his wife,
 Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,
 That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,
 Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.
 Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,
 When haply he shall heare that she is gone,
 He will returne, and hope I may that shee
 Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe,
 Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
 Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence
 To make distinction: prouide this Messenger:
 My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,
 Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 A Tucket afarre off.
 
 Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and
 Mariana, with
 other Citizens.
 
   Widdow. Nay come,
 For if they do approach the Citty,
 We shall loose all the sight
 
    Diana. They say, the French Count has done
 Most honourable seruice
 
    Wid. It is reported,
 That he has taken their great'st Commander,
 And that with his owne hand he slew
 The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour,
 They are gone a contrarie way: harke,
 you may know by their Trumpets
 
    Maria. Come lets returne againe,
 And suffice our selues with the report of it.
 Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle,
 The honor of a Maide is her name,
 And no Legacie is so rich
 As honestie
 
    Widdow. I haue told my neighbour
 How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman
 His Companion
 
    Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles,
 a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young
 Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements,
 oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are
 not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene
 seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so
 terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot
 for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed
 with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede
 not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace
 will keepe you where you are, though there were no
 further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so
 lost
 
    Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.
 Enter Hellen.
 
   Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know
 she will lye at my house, thither they send one another,
 Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are
 bound?
   Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand.
 Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
   Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port
 
    Hel. Is this the way?
 
 A march afarre.
 
   Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way:
 If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime
 But till the troopes come by,
 I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,
 The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse
 As ample as my selfe
 
    Hel. Is it your selfe?
   Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime
 
    Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure
 
    Wid. You came I thinke from France?
   Hel. I did so
 
    Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours
 That has done worthy seruice
 
    Hel. His name I pray you?
   Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?
   Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:
 His face I know not
 
    Dia. What somere he is
 He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France
 As 'tis reported: for the King had married him
 Against his liking. Thinke you it is so?
   Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady
 
    Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,
 Reports but coursely of her
 
    Hel. What's his name?
   Dia. Monsieur Parrolles
 
    Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,
 In argument of praise, or to the worth
 Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane
 To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing
 Is a reserued honestie, and that
 I haue not heard examin'd
 
    Dian. Alas poore Ladie,
 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
 Of a detesting Lord
 
    Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,
 Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her
 A shrewd turne if she pleas'd
 
    Hel. How do you meane?
 May be the amorous Count solicites her
 In the vnlawfull purpose
 
    Wid. He does indeede,
 And brokes with all that can in such a suite
 Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide:
 But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard
 In honestest defence.
 
 Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the
 whole
 Armie.
 
   Mar. The goddes forbid else
 
    Wid. So, now they come:
 That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,
 That Escalus
 
    Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
   Dia. Hee,
 That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,
 I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honester
 He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
   Hel. I like him well
 
    Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue
 That leades him to these places: were I his Ladie,
 I would poison that vile Rascall
 
    Hel. Which is he?
   Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee
 melancholly?
   Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile
 
    Par. Loose our drum? Well
 
    Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he
 has spyed vs
 
    Wid. Marrie hang you
 
    Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.
 Enter.
 
   Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bring
 you, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents
 There's foure or fiue, to great S[aint]. Iaques bound,
 Alreadie at my house
 
    Hel. I humbly thanke you:
 Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide
 To eate with vs to night, the charge and thanking
 Shall be for me, and to requite you further,
 I will bestow some precepts of this Virgin,
 Worthy the note
 
    Both. Wee'l take your offer kindly.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.
 
   Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him
 haue his way
 
    Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,
 hold me no more in your respect
 
    Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble
 
    Ber. Do you thinke I am so farre
 Deceiued in him
 
    Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct
 knowledge, without any malice, but to speake of him
 as my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite
 and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the
 owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships
 entertainment
 
    Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too
 farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at some
 great and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayle
 you
 
    Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try
 him
 
    Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his
 drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake
 to do
 
    C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize
 him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowes
 not from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinke
 him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried
 into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring
 him to our owne tents: be but your Lordship present
 at his examination, if he do not for the promise of his
 life, and in the highest compulsion of base feare, offer to
 betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power
 against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his
 soule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie
 thing
 
    Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his
 drumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your
 Lordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and to
 what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted
 if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement,
 your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes.
 Enter Parrolles.
 
   Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor
 of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any
 hand
 
    Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely
 in your disposition
 
    Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme
 
    Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so
 lost. There was excellent command, to charge in with
 our horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne
 souldiers
 
    Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command
 of the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that Cæsar him
 selfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to
 command
 
    Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe:
 some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum,
 but it is not to be recouered
 
    Par. It might haue beene recouered
 
    Ber. It might, but it is not now
 
    Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice
 is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer,
 I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet
 
    Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if
 you thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring this
 instrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, be
 magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace
 the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in
 it, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you
 what further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost
 syllable of your worthinesse
 
    Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it
 
    Ber. But you must not now slumber in it
 
    Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently
 pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my
 certaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation:
 and by midnight looke to heare further from me
 
    Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are
 gone about it
 
    Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,
 but the attempt I vow
 
    Ber. I know th'art valiant,
 And to the possibility of thy souldiership,
 Will subscribe for thee: Farewell
 
    Par. I loue not many words.
 
 Exit
 
   Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this
 a strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes to
 vndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to be
 done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damnd
 then to doo't
 
    Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe,
 certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour,
 and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries,
 but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after
 
    Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at
 all of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe
 vnto?
   Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention,
 and clap vpon you two or three probable lies:
 but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall to
 night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect
 
    Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe
 ere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old Lord
 Lafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what
 a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie
 night
 
    Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,
 He shall be caught
 
    Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me
 
    Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you
 
    Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew you
 The Lasse I spoke of
 
    Cap.E. But you say she's honest
 
    Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once,
 And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her
 By this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th winde
 Tokens and Letters, which she did resend,
 And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature,
 Will you go see her?
   Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Enter Hellen, and Widdow.
 
   Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee,
 I know not how I shall assure you further,
 But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon
 
    Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne,
 Nothing acquainted with these businesses,
 And would not put my reputation now
 In any staining act
 
    Hel. Nor would I wish you.
 First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,
 And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,
 Is so from word to word: and then you cannot
 By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,
 Erre in bestowing it
 
    Wid. I should beleeue you,
 For you haue shew'd me that which well approues
 Y'are great in fortune
 
    Hel. Take this purse of Gold,
 And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,
 Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe
 When I haue found it. The Count he woes your
 daughter,
 Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,
 Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent
 As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:
 Now his important blood will naught denie,
 That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares,
 That downward hath succeeded in his house
 From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,
 Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holds
 In most rich choice: yet in his idle fire,
 To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere,
 How ere repented after
 
    Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose
 
    Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,
 But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,
 Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;
 In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,
 Her selfe most chastly absent: after
 To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes
 To what is past already
 
    Wid. I haue yeelded:
 Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,
 That time and place with this deceite so lawfull
 May proue coherent. Euery night he comes
 With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd
 To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs
 To chide him from our eeues, for he persists
 As if his life lay on't
 
    Hel. Why then to night
 Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed,
 Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede;
 And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,
 Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact.
 But let's about it.
 
 Actus Quartus.
 
 Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in
 ambush.
 
   Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge
 corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible
 Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your
 selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand
 him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce
 for an Interpreter
 
    1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter
 
    Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not
 thy voice?
   1.Sol. No sir I warrant you
 
    Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs
 againe
 
    1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me
 
    Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th
 aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all
 neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one
 be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak
 one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight
 our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and
 good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme
 very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile
 two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear
 the lies he forges.
 Enter Parrolles.
 
   Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill
 be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue
 done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries
 it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of
 late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue
 is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars
 before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of
 my tongue
 
    Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue
 was guiltie of
 
    Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake
 the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the
 impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I
 must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit:
 yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say,
 came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not
 giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put
 you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another
 of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these
 perilles
 
    Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and
 be that he is
 
    Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue
 the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword
 
    Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so
 
    Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in
 stratagem
 
    Lo.E. 'Twould not do
 
    Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript
 
    Lo.E. Hardly serue
 
    Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the
 Citadell
 
    Lo.E. How deepe?
   Par. Thirty fadome
 
    Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be
 beleeued
 
    Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
 would sweare I recouer'd it
 
    Lo.E. You shall heare one anon
 
    Par. A drumme now of the enemies.
 
 Alarum within.
 
   Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo
 
    All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo
 
    Par. O ransome, ransome,
 Do not hide mine eyes
 
    Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos
 
    Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment,
 And I shall loose my life for want of language.
 If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,
 Italian, or French, let him speake to me,
 Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine
 
    Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake
 thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for
 seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome
 
    Par. Oh
 
    Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,
 Manka reuania dulche
 
    Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco
 
    Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet,
 And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on
 To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informe
 Something to saue thy life
 
    Par. O let me liue,
 And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew,
 Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that,
 Which you will wonder at
 
    Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?
   Par. If I do not, damne me
 
    Inter. Acordo linta.
 Come on, thou are granted space.
 
 Exit
 
 
 A short Alarum within.
 
   L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother,
 We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled
 Till we do heare from them
 
    Sol. Captaine I will
 
    L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues,
 Informe on that
 
    Sol. So I will sir
 
    L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.
 
 Exit
 
 Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.
 
   Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell
 
    Dia. No my good Lord, Diana
 
    Ber. Titled Goddesse,
 And worth it with addition: but faire soule,
 In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie?
 If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde,
 You are no Maiden but a monument
 When you are dead you should be such a one
 As you are now: for you are cold and sterne,
 And now you should be as your mother was
 When your sweet selfe was got
 
    Dia. She then was honest
 
    Ber. So should you be
 
    Dia. No:
 My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)
 As you owe to your wife
 
    Ber. No more a'that:
 I prethee do not striue against my vowes:
 I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee
 By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer
 Do thee all rights of seruice
 
    Dia. I so you serue vs
 Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses,
 You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues,
 And mocke vs with our barenesse
 
    Ber. How haue I sworne
 
    Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth,
 But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true:
 What is not holie, that we sweare not by,
 But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me,
 If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes,
 I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes,
 When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding
 To sweare by him whom I protest to loue
 That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes
 Are words and poore conditions, but vnseal'd
 At lest in my opinion
 
    Ber. Change it, change it:
 Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie,
 And my integritie ne're knew the crafts
 That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
 But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires,
 Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer
 My loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer
 
    Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre,
 That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring
 
    Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power
 To giue it from me
 
    Dia. Will you not my Lord?
   Ber. It is an honour longing to our house,
 Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors,
 Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
 In me to loose
 
    Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring,
 My chastities the Iewell of our house,
 Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors,
 Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
 In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedome
 Brings in the Champion honor on my part,
 Against your vaine assault
 
    Ber. Heere, take my Ring,
 My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine,
 And Ile be bid by thee
 
    Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber
 window:
 Ile order take, my mother shall not heare.
 Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
 When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,
 Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee:
 My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,
 When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd:
 And on your finger in the night, Ile put
 Another Ring, that what in time proceeds,
 May token to the future, our past deeds.
 Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne
 A wife of me, though there my hope be done
 
    Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee
 
    Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me,
 You may so in the end.
 My mother told me iust how he would woo,
 As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men
 Haue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie me
 When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him
 When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide,
 Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid:
 Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne,
 To cosen him that would vniustly winne.
 
 Exit
 
 Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.
 
   Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter
 
    Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som
 thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it,
 he chang'd almost into another man
 
    Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him,
 for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady
 
    Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting
 displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty
 to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but
 you shall let it dwell darkly with you
 
    Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am
 the graue of it
 
    Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman
 heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night
 he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath
 giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe
 made in the vnchaste composition
 
    Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our
 selues, what things are we
 
    Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the
 common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale
 themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so
 he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility
 in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe
 
    Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters
 of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue
 his company to night?
   Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to
 his houre
 
    Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue
 him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take
 a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously
 he had set this counterfeit
 
    Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come;
 for his presence must be the whip of the other
 
    Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these
 Warres?
   Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace
 
    Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded
 
    Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he
 trauaile higher, or returne againe into France?
   Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether
 of his councell
 
    Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great
 deale of his act
 
    Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde
 from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques
 le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere
 sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing,
 the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her
 greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now
 she sings in heauen
 
    Cap.E. How is this iustified?
   Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters,
 which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her
 death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office
 to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector
 of the place
 
    Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?
   Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, point
 from point, to the full arming of the veritie
 
    Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of
 this
 
    Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts
 of our losses
 
    Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee
 drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his
 valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred
 with a shame as ample
 
    Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne,
 good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if
 our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire
 if they were not cherish'd by our vertues.
 Enter a Messenger.
 
 How now? Where's your master?
   Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee
 hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next
 morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters
 of commendations to the King
 
    Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there,
 if they were more then they can commend.
 Enter Count Rossillion.
 
   Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse,
 heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord,
 i'st not after midnight?
   Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a
 moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I
 haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his
 neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie
 mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, &
 betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many
 nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue
 not ended yet
 
    Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this
 morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your
 Lordship
 
    Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing
 to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue
 betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring
 forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a
 double-meaning Prophesier
 
    Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night
 poore gallant knaue
 
    Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping
 his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe?
   Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The
 stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be
 vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her
 milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee
 supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance
 to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes:
 and what thinke you he hath confest?
   Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a?
   Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read
 to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you
 are, you must haue the patience to heare it.
 Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.
 
   Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing
 of me: hush, hush
 
    Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa
 
    Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say
 without em
 
    Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint,
 If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more
 
    Int. Bosko Chimurcho
 
    Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco
 
    Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall
 bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note
 
    Par. And truly, as I hope to liue
 
    Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke
 is strong. What say you to that?
   Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable:
 the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders
 verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and
 credit, and as I hope to liue
 
    Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?
   Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which
 way you will: all's one to him
 
    Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this?
   Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounsieur
 Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his owne phrase
 that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his
 scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger
 
    Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping
 his sword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing
 in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly
 
    Int. Well, that's set downe
 
    Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true,
 or thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth
 
    Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this
 
    Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he
 deliuers it
 
    Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say
 
    Int. Well, that's set downe
 
    Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, the
 Rogues are maruailous poore
 
    Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a
 foot. What say you to that?
   Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present
 houre, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred &
 fiftie, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so
 many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred
 fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond,
 Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster
 file, rotten and sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene
 thousand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake
 the snow from off their Cassockes, least they shake themselues
 to peeces
 
    Ber. What shall be done to him?
   Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand
 of him my condition: and what credite I haue with the
 Duke
 
    Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of
 him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a
 Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what
 his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or whether
 he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing
 summes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you
 to this? What do you know of it?
   Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of
 the intergatories. Demand them singly
 
    Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine?
   Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris,
 from whence he was whipt for getting the Shrieues fool
 with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him
 nay
 
    Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I
 know his braines are forfeite to the next tile that fals
 
    Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florences
 campe?
   Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie
 
    Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare of
 your Lord anon
 
    Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?
   Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a poore
 Officer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turne
 him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket
 
    Int. Marry we'll search
 
    Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there,
 or it is vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my
 Tent
 
    Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?
   Par. I do not know if it be it or no
 
    Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well
 
    Cap.G. Excellently
 
    Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold
 
    Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement
 to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to
 take heede of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a
 foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you
 sir put it vp againe
 
    Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour
 
    Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the
 behalfe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a
 dangerous and lasciuious boy, who is a whale to Virginity,
 and deuours vp all the fry it finds
 
    Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue
 
    Int.
 
 Let.
 
 When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, and
 take it:
 After he scores, he neuer payes the score:
 Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it,
 He nere payes after-debts, take it before,
 And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this:
 Men are to mell with, boyes are not to kis.
 For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,
 Who payes before, but not when he does owe it.
 Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine eare,
 Parolles
 
    Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with this
 rime in's forehead
 
    Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifold
 Linguist, and the army-potent souldier
 
    Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and
 now he's a Cat to me
 
    Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shall
 be faine to hang you
 
    Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to
 dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent
 out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue sir in a dungeon,
 i'th stockes, or any where, so I may liue
 
    Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse
 freely: therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine:
 you haue answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and
 to his valour. What is his honestie?
   Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for
 rapes and rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes
 not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is stronger then
 Hercules. He will lye sir, with such volubilitie, that you
 would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is his best
 vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he
 does little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him:
 but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I
 haue but little more to say sir of his honesty, he ha's euerie
 thing that an honest man should not haue; what an
 honest man should haue, he has nothing
 
    Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this
 
    Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox
 vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat
 
    Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre?
   Par. Faith sir, ha's led the drumme before the English
 Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his
 souldiership I know not, except in that Country, he had
 the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end,
 to instruct for the doubling of files. I would doe the
 man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine
 
    Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the
 raritie redeemes him
 
    Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still
 
    Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede
 not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt
 
    Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of
 his saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from
 all remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually
 
    Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain?
   Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me?
   Int. What's he?
   Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so
 great as the first in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in
 euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother
 is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreate hee outrunnes
 any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the
 Crampe
 
    Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray
 the Florentine
 
    Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion
 
    Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his
 pleasure
 
    Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes,
 onely to seeme to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition
 of that lasciuious yong boy the Count, haue I run
 into this danger: yet who would haue suspected an ambush
 where I was taken?
   Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the
 Generall sayes, you that haue so traitorously discouerd
 the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports
 of men very nobly held, can serue the world for
 no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman,
 off with his head
 
    Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death
 
    Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all your
 friends:
 So, looke about you, know you any heere?
   Count. Good morrow noble Captaine
 
    Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles
 
    Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine
 
    Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord
 Lafew? I am for France
 
    Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of
 the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfe of the Count
 Rossillion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'de compell
 it of you, but far you well.
 
 Exeunt.
 
   Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe,
 that has a knot on't yet
 
    Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?
   Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but
 women were that had receiued so much shame, you
 might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I
 am for France too, we shall speake of you there.
 
 Exit
 
   Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great
 'Twould burst at this: Captaine Ile be no more,
 But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe as soft
 As Captaine shall. Simply the thing I am
 Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart
 Let him feare this; for it will come to passe,
 That euery braggart shall be found an Asse.
 Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liue
 Safest in shame: being fool'd, by fool'rie thriue;
 There's place and meanes for euery man aliue.
 Ile after them.
 Enter.
 
 Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.
 
   Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not
 wrong'd you,
 One of the greatest in the Christian world
 Shall be my suretie: for whose throne 'tis needfull
 Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneele.
 Time was, I did him a desired office
 Deere almost as his life, which gratitude
 Through flintie Tartars bosome would peepe forth,
 And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd,
 His grace is at Marcellae, to which place
 We haue conuenient conuoy: you must know
 I am supposed dead, the Army breaking,
 My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding,
 And by the leaue of my good Lord the King,
 Wee'l be before our welcome
 
    Wid. Gentle Madam,
 You neuer had a seruant to whose trust
 Your busines was more welcome
 
    Hel. Nor your Mistris
 Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
 To recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauen
 Hath brought me vp to be your daughters dower,
 As it hath fated her to be my motiue
 And helper to a husband. But O strange men,
 That can such sweet vse make of what they hate,
 When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughts
 Defiles the pitchy night, so lust doth play
 With what it loathes, for that which is away,
 But more of this heereafter: you Diana,
 Vnder my poore instructions yet must suffer
 Something in my behalfe
 
    Dia. Let death and honestie
 Go with your impositions, I am yours
 Vpon your will to suffer
 
    Hel. Yet I pray you:
 But with the word the time will bring on summer,
 When Briars shall haue leaues as well as thornes,
 And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away,
 Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs,
 All's well that ends well, still the fines the Crowne;
 What ere the course, the end is the renowne.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.
 
   Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt
 taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron wold haue
 made all the vnbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his
 colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue at this
 houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd
 by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak
 of
 
    La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death
 of the most vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature
 had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh
 and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother, I could
 not haue owed her a more rooted loue
 
    Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee
 may picke a thousand sallets ere wee light on such another
 hearbe
 
    Clo. Indeed sir she was the sweete Margerom of the
 sallet, or rather the hearbe of grace
 
    Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-hearbes
 
    Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I haue not
 much skill in grace
 
    Laf. Whether doest thou professe thy selfe, a knaue
 or a foole?
   Clo. A foole sir at a womans seruice, and a knaue at a
 mans
 
    Laf. Your distinction
 
    Clo. I would cousen the man of his wife, and do his
 seruice
 
    Laf. So you were a knaue at his seruice indeed
 
    Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble sir to doe
 her seruice
 
    Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knaue
 and foole
 
    Clo. At your seruice
 
    Laf. No, no, no
 
    Clo. Why sir, if I cannot serue you, I can serue as
 great a prince as you are
 
    Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman?
   Clo. Faith sir a has an English maine, but his fisnomie
 is more hotter in France then there
 
    Laf. What prince is that?
   Clo. The blacke prince sir, alias the prince of darkenesse,
 alias the diuell
 
    Laf. Hold thee there's my purse, I giue thee not this
 to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serue
 him still
 
    Clo. I am a woodland fellow sir, that alwaies loued
 a great fire, and the master I speak of euer keeps a good
 fire, but sure he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie
 remaine in's Court. I am for the house with the
 narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompe to
 enter: some that humble themselues may, but the manie
 will be too chill and tender, and theyle bee for the
 flowrie way that leads to the broad gate, and the great
 fire
 
    Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee,
 and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out
 with thee. Go thy wayes, let my horses be wel look'd
 too, without any trickes
 
    Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em sir, they shall bee
 Iades trickes, which are their owne right by the law of
 Nature.
 
 Exit
 
   Laf. A shrewd knaue and an vnhappie
 
    Lady. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himselfe
 much sport out of him, by his authoritie hee remaines
 heere, which he thinkes is a pattent for his sawcinesse,
 and indeede he has no pace, but runnes where he will
 
    Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amisse: and I was about
 to tell you, since I heard of the good Ladies death, and
 that my Lord your sonne was vpon his returne home. I
 moued the King my master to speake in the behalfe of
 my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his
 Maiestie out of a selfe gracious remembrance did first
 propose, his Highnesse hath promis'd me to doe it, and
 to stoppe vp the displeasure he hath conceiued against
 your sonne, there is no fitter matter. How do's your
 Ladyship like it?
   La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wish
 it happily effected
 
    Laf. His Highnesse comes post from Marcellus, of as
 able bodie as when he number'd thirty, a will be heere
 to morrow, or I am deceiu'd by him that in such intelligence
 hath seldome fail'd
 
    La. It reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I
 die. I haue letters that my sonne will be heere to night:
 I shall beseech your Lordship to remaine with mee, till
 they meete together
 
    Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I
 might safely be admitted
 
    Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuiledge
 
    Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but
 I thanke my God, it holds yet.
 Enter Clowne.
 
   Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your sonne with
 a patch of veluet on's face, whether there bee a scar vnder't
 or no, the Veluet knowes, but 'tis a goodly patch
 of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile and a
 halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare
 
    Laf. A scarre nobly got,
 Or a noble scarre, is a good liu'rie of honor,
 So belike is that
 
    Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face
 
    Laf. Let vs go see
 your sonne I pray you, I long to talke
 With the yong noble souldier
 
    Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate
 fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the
 head, and nod at euerie man.
 
 Exeunt.
 
 Actus Quintus.
 
 Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with two Attendants.
 
   Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night,
 Must wear your spirits low, we cannot helpe it:
 But since you haue made the daies and nights as one,
 To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres,
 Be bold you do so grow in my requitall,
 As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time,
 Enter a gentle Astringer.
 
 This man may helpe me to his Maiesties eare,
 If he would spend his power. God saue you sir
 
    Gent. And you
 
    Hel. Sir, I haue seene you in the Court of France
 
    Gent. I haue beene sometimes there
 
    Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not falne
 From the report that goes vpon your goodnesse,
 And therefore goaded with most sharpe occasions,
 Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
 The vse of your owne vertues, for the which
 I shall continue thankefull
 
    Gent. What's your will?
   Hel. That it will please you
 To giue this poore petition to the King,
 And ayde me with that store of power you haue
 To come into his presence
 
    Gen. The Kings not heere
 
    Hel. Not heere sir?
   Gen. Not indeed,
 He hence remou'd last night, and with more hast
 Then is his vse
 
    Wid. Lord how we loose our paines
 
    Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
 Though time seeme so aduerse, and meanes vnfit:
 I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
   Gent. Marrie as I take it to Rossillion,
 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 thanke your paines for it,
 I will come after you with what good speede
 Our meanes will make vs meanes
 
    Gent. This Ile do for you
 
    Hel. And you shall finde your selfe to be well thankt
 what e're falles more. We must to horse againe, Go, go,
 prouide.
 Enter Clowne and Parrolles.
 
   Par. Good Mr Lauatch giue my Lord Lafew this letter,
 I haue ere now sir beene better knowne to you, when
 I haue held familiaritie with fresher cloathes: but I am
 now sir muddied in fortunes mood, and smell somewhat
 strong of her strong displeasure
 
    Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but sluttish if it
 smell so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will hencefoorth
 eate no Fish of Fortunes butt'ring. Prethee alow the
 winde
 
    Par. Nay you neede not to stop your nose sir: I spake
 but by a Metaphor
 
    Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop
 my nose, or against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee
 further
 
    Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper
 
    Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes
 close-stoole, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he
 comes himselfe.
 Enter Lafew.
 
   Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes
 Cat, but not a Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane
 fish-pond of her displeasure, and as he sayes is muddied
 withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you may, for he
 lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally
 knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort,
 and leaue him to your Lordship
 
    Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
 scratch'd
 
    Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too
 late to paire her nailes now. Wherein haue you played
 the knaue with fortune that she should scratch you, who
 of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue knaues
 thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the
 Iustices make you and fortune friends; I am for other
 businesse
 
    Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single
 word,
   Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall
 ha't, saue your word
 
    Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles
 
    Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion,
 giue me your hand: How does your drumme?
   Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found
 mee
 
    Laf. Was I insooth? 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 vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee
 at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings
 thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings
 comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further
 after me, I had talke of you last night, though you
 are a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow
 
    Par. I praise God for you.
 
 Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with
 attendants.
 
   Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme
 Was made much poorer by it: but your sonne,
 As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know
 Her estimation home
 
    Old La. 'Tis past my Liege,
 And I beseech your Maiestie to make it
 Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth,
 When oyle and fire, too strong for reasons force,
 Ore-beares it, and burnes on
 
    Kin. My honour'd Lady,
 I haue forgiuen and forgotten all,
 Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him,
 And watch'd the time to shoote
 
    Laf. This I must say,
 But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord
 Did to his Maiesty, his Mother, and his Ladie,
 Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe
 The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife,
 Whose beauty did astonish the suruey
 Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue,
 Whose deere perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue,
 Humbly call'd Mistris
 
    Kin. Praising what is lost,
 Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither,
 We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
 All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon,
 The nature of his great offence is dead,
 And deeper then obliuion, we do burie
 Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach
 A stranger, no offender; and informe him
 So 'tis our will he should
 
    Gent. I shall my Liege
 
    Kin. What sayes he to your daughter,
 Haue you spoke?
   Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes
 
    Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent
 me, that sets him high in fame.
 Enter Count Bertram.
 
   Laf. He lookes well on't
 
    Kin. I am not a day of season,
 For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile
 In me at once: But to the brightest beames
 Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth,
 The time is faire againe
 
    Ber. My high repented blames
 Deere Soueraigne pardon to me
 
    Kin. 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
 Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time
 Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember
 The daughter of this Lord?
   Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first
 I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart
 Durst make too bold a herauld of my tongue:
 Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
 Contempt his scornfull Perspectiue did lend me,
 Which warpt the line, of euerie other fauour,
 Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne,
 Extended or contracted all proportions
 To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came,
 That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my selfe,
 Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine eye
 The dust that did offend it
 
    Kin. Well excus'd:
 That thou didst loue her, strikes some scores away
 From the great compt: but loue that comes too late,
 Like a remorsefull pardon slowly carried
 To the great sender, turnes a sowre offence,
 Crying, that's good that's gone: Our rash faults,
 Make triuiall price of serious things we haue,
 Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue.
 Oft our displeasures to our selues vniust,
 Destroy our friends, and after weepe their dust:
 Our owne loue waking, cries to see what's done,
 While shamefull hate sleepes out the afternoone.
 Be this sweet Helens knell, and now forget her.
 Send forth your amorous token for faire Maudlin,
 The maine consents are had, and heere wee'l stay
 To see our widdowers second marriage day:
 Which better then the first, O deere heauen blesse,
 Or, ere they meete in me, O Nature cesse
 
    Laf. Come on my sonne, in whom my houses name
 Must be digested: giue a fauour from you
 To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
 That she may quickly come. By my old beard,
 And eu'rie haire that's on't, Helen that's dead
 Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
 The last that ere I tooke her leaue at Court,
 I saw vpon her finger
 
    Ber. Hers it was not
 
    King. Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye,
 While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd too't:
 This Ring was mine, and when I gaue it Hellen,
 I bad her if her fortunes euer stoode
 Necessitied to helpe, that by this token
 I would releeue her. Had you that craft to reaue her
 Of what should stead her most?
   Ber. My gracious Soueraigne,
 How ere it pleases you to take it so,
 The ring was neuer hers
 
    Old La. Sonne, on my life
 I haue seene her weare it, and she reckon'd it
 At her liues rate
 
    Laf. I am sure I saw her weare it
 
    Ber. You are deceiu'd my Lord, she neuer saw it:
 In Florence was it from a casement throwne mee,
 Wrap'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 owne fortune, and inform'd her fully,
 I could not answer in that course of Honour
 As she had made the ouerture, she ceast
 In heauie satisfaction, and would neuer
 Receiue the Ring againe
 
    Kin. Platus himselfe,
 That knowes the tinct and multiplying med'cine,
 Hath not in natures mysterie more science,
 Then I haue in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helens,
 Who euer gaue it you: then if you know
 That you are well acquainted with your selfe,
 Confesse 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
 You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to suretie,
 That she would neuer put it from her finger,
 Vnlesse she gaue it to your selfe in bed,
 Where you haue neuer come: or sent it vs
 Vpon her great disaster
 
    Ber. She neuer saw it
 
    Kin. Thou speak'st it falsely: as I loue mine Honor,
 And mak'st connecturall feares to come into me,
 Which I would faine shut out, if it should proue
 That thou art so inhumane, 'twill not proue so:
 And yet I know not, thou didst hate her deadly,
 And she is dead, which nothing but to close
 Her eyes my selfe, could win me to beleeue,
 More then to see this Ring. Take him away,
 My fore-past proofes, how ere the matter fall
 Shall taze my feares of little vanitie,
 Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
 Wee'l sift this matter further
 
    Ber. If you shall proue
 This Ring was euer hers, you shall as easie
 Proue that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
 Where yet she neuer was.
 Enter a Gentleman.
 
   King. I am wrap'd in dismall thinkings
 
    Gen. Gracious Soueraigne.
 Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not,
 Here's a petition from a Florentine,
 Who hath for foure or fiue remoues come short,
 To tender it her selfe. I vndertooke it,
 Vanquish'd thereto by the faire grace and speech
 Of the poore suppliant, who by this I know
 Is heere attending: her businesse lookes in her
 With an importing visage, and she told me
 In a sweet verball breefe, it did concerne
 Your Highnesse with her selfe.
 
 A Letter.
 
 Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was
 dead, I blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion
 a Widdower, his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my
 honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking no
 leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Iustice: Grant
 it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer flourishes,
 and a poore Maid is vndone.
 Diana Capilet
 
    Laf. I will buy me a sonne in Law in a faire, and toule
 for this. Ile none of him
 
    Kin. The heauens haue thought well on thee Lafew,
 To bring forth this discou'rie, seeke these sutors:
 Go speedily, and bring againe the Count.
 Enter Bertram.
 
 I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie)
 Was fowly snatcht
 
    Old La. Now iustice on the doers
 
    King. I wonder sir, sir, wiues are monsters to you,
 And that you flye them as you sweare them Lordship,
 Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?
 Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.
 
   Dia. I am my Lord a wretched Florentine,
 Deriued from the ancient Capilet,
 My suite as I do vnderstand you know,
 And therefore know how farre I may be pittied
 
    Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour
 Both suffer vnder this complaint we bring,
 And both shall cease, without your remedie
 
    King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women?
   Ber. My Lord, I neither can nor will denie,
 But that I know them, do they charge me further?
   Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife?
   Ber. She's none of mine my Lord
 
    Dia. If you shall marrie
 You giue away this hand, and that is mine,
 You giue away heauens vowes, and those are mine:
 You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine:
 For I by vow am so embodied yours,
 That she which marries you, must marrie me,
 Either both or none
 
    Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter,
 you are no husband for her
 
    Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature,
 Whom sometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes
 Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour,
 Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere
 
    Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend,
 Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor,
 Then in my thought it lies
 
    Dian. Good my Lord,
 Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke
 He had not my virginity
 
    Kin. What saist thou to her?
   Ber. She's impudent my Lord,
 And was a common gamester to the Campe
 
    Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so,
 He might haue bought me at a common price.
 Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring,
 Whose high respect and rich validitie
 Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that
 He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe
 If I be one
 
    Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit:
 Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme
 Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue
 Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife,
 That Ring's a thousand proofes
 
    King. Me thought you saide
 You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it
 
    Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce
 So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles
 
    Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he bee
 
    Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether
 
    Ros. What of him:
 He's quoted for a most perfidious slaue
 With all the spots a'th world, taxt and debosh'd,
 Whose nature sickens: but to speake a truth,
 Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter,
 That will speake any thing
 
    Kin. She hath that Ring of yours
 
    Ros. I thinke she has; certaine it is I lyk'd her,
 And boorded her i'th wanton way of youth:
 She knew her distance, and did angle for mee,
 Madding my eagernesse with her restraint,
 As all impediments in fancies course
 Are motiues of more fancie, and in fine,
 Her insuite comming with her moderne grace,
 Subdu'd me to her rate, she got the Ring,
 And I had that which any inferiour might
 At Market price haue bought
 
    Dia. I must be patient:
 You that haue turn'd off a first so noble wife,
 May iustly dyet me. I pray you yet,
 (Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband)
 Send for your Ring, I will returne it home,
 And giue me mine againe
 
    Ros. I haue it not
 
    Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you?
   Dian. Sir much like the same vpon your finger
 
    Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late
 
    Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed
 
    Kin. The story then goes false, you threw it him
 Out of a Casement
 
    Dia. I haue spoke the truth.
 Enter Parolles.
 
   Ros. My Lord, I do confesse the ring was hers
 
    Kin. You boggle shrewdly, euery feather starts you:
 Is this the man you speake of?
   Dia. I, my Lord
 
    Kin. Tell me sirrah, but tell me true I charge you,
 Not fearing the displeasure of your master:
 Which on your iust proceeding, Ile keepe off,
 By him and by this woman heere, what know you?
   Par. So please your Maiesty, my master hath bin an
 honourable Gentleman. Trickes hee hath had in him,
 which Gentlemen haue
 
    Kin. Come, come, to'th' purpose: Did hee loue this
 woman?
   Par. Faith sir he did loue her, but how
 
    Kin. How I pray you?
   Par. He did loue her sir, as a Gent. loues a Woman
 
    Kin. How is that?
   Par. He lou'd her sir, and lou'd her not
 
    Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equiuocall
 Companion is this?
   Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maiesties command
 
    Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie
 Orator
 
    Dian. Do you know he promist me marriage?
   Par. Faith I know more then Ile speake
 
    Kin. But wilt thou not speake all thou know'st?
   Par. Yes so please your Maiesty: I did goe betweene
 them as I said, but more then that he loued her, for indeede
 he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and of
 Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in
 that credit with them at that time, that I knewe of their
 going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her
 marriage, and things which would deriue mee ill will to
 speake of, therefore I will not speake what I know
 
    Kin. Thou hast spoken all alreadie, vnlesse thou canst
 say they are maried, but thou art too fine in thy euidence,
 therefore stand aside. This Ring you say was yours
 
    Dia. I my good Lord
 
    Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you?
   Dia. It was not giuen me, nor I did not buy it
 
    Kin. Who lent it you?
   Dia. It was not lent me neither
 
    Kin. Where did you finde it then?
   Dia. I found it not
 
    Kin. If it were yours by none of all these wayes,
 How could you giue it him?
   Dia. I neuer gaue it him
 
    Laf. This womans an easie gloue my Lord, she goes
 off and on at pleasure
 
    Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his first wife
 
    Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know
 
    Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now,
 To prison with her: and away with him,
 Vnlesse thou telst me where thou hadst this Ring,
 Thou diest within this houre
 
    Dia. Ile neuer tell you
 
    Kin. Take her away
 
    Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge
 
    Kin. I thinke thee now some common Customer
 
    Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you
 
    King. Wherefore hast thou accusde him al this while
 
    Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty:
 He knowes I am no Maid, and hee'l sweare too't:
 Ile sweare I am a Maid, and he knowes not.
 Great King I am no strumpet, by my life,
 I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife
 
    Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prison with her
 
    Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall sir,
 The Ieweller that owes the Ring is sent for,
 And he shall surety me. But for this Lord,
 Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himselfe,
 Though yet he neuer harm'd me, heere I quit him.
 He knowes himselfe my bed he hath defil'd,
 And at that time he got his wife with childe:
 Dead though she be, she feeles her yong one kicke:
 So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke,
 And now behold the meaning.
 Enter Hellen and Widdow.
 
   Kin. Is there no exorcist
 Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes?
 Is't reall that I see?
   Hel. No my good Lord,
 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
 The name, and not the thing
 
    Ros. Both, both, O pardon
 
    Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid,
 I found you wondrous kinde, there is your Ring,
 And looke you, heeres your letter: this it sayes,
 When from my finger you can get this Ring,
 And is by me with childe, &c. This is done,
 Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne?
   Ros. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly,
 Ile loue her dearely, euer, euer dearly
 
    Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue,
 Deadly diuorce step betweene me and you.
 O my deere mother do I see you liuing?
   Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon:
 Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher.
 So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with
 thee: Let thy curtsies alone, they are scuruy ones
 
    King. Let vs from point to point this storie know,
 To make the euen truth in pleasure flow:
 If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower,
 Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower.
 For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde,
 Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide.
 Of that and all the progresse more and lesse,
 Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse:
 All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete,
 The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
 
 Flourish.
 
 The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done,
 All is well ended, if this suite be wonne,
 That you expresse Content: which we will pay,
 With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
 Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts,
 Your gentle hands lend vs, and take our hearts.
 
 Exeunt. omn.
 
 FINIS. ALL'S Well, that Ends Well.