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The WINTER-NIGHT's TALE..

The LIFE and DEATH of KING JOHN.

EDINBURGH:

Printed by SANDS, MURRAY, and COCHRAN.

For W. SANDS, KINCAID & DONALDSON, L. HUNTER;
J. YAIR, W. GORDON, and J. BROWN.

MDCCLIII.

STADT

BIBLIOTHEK IN ZURICH.

All's well that ends well *.

DRAMATIS

KING of France.

Duke of Florence.
Bertram, Count of Roufillon.
Lafeu, an old Lord.
Parolles, a parafitical follower of
Bertram; a coward, but vain,
and a great pretender to valour.
Several young French Lords, that
ferve with Bertram in the Flo-
rentine war.

Steward, fervants to the Count-
Clown, Sefs of Roufillon.

PERSONE.

Countess of Roufillon, mother to

Bertram.

Helena, daughter to Gerard de
Narbon, a famous phyfician,
fome time fince dead.
An old widow of Florence.
Diana, daughter to the widow.
Violenta, neighbours and friends
Mariana, to the widow."

Lords, attending on the King; Of
ficers, Soldiers, &c.

SCENE lies partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

A C T I.

SCENE I.

The Countess of Roufillon's boufe in France.

Enter Bertram, the Countess of Roufillon, Helena, and Lafeu, all in mourning.

Countess.

N diffevering my fon from me, I bury a fecond hufband.

"I

Ber. And I in going, Madam, weep o'er my father's death anew; but I muft attend his Majefty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in fubjection.

;

Laf. You fhall find of the King a husband, Madam you, Sir, a father. He that fo generally is at all times good, muft of neceflity hold his virtue to you; whofe worthinefs would ftir it up where it wanted, rather than flack it where there is fuch abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his Majefty's amend

ment?

The plot taken from Boccace, Decam. 3. Nov. 9.

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Laf. He hath abandon'd his phyficians, Madam, under whofe practices he hath perfecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the procefs, but only the lofing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (O, that bad! how fad a prefage 'tis !), whofe fkill was almoft as great as his honefty; had it ftretch'd fo far, it would have made nature immortal, and death fhould have play'd for lack of work. 'Would, for the King's fake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the King's disease.

Laf. How call'd you the man you fpeak of, Madam ?

Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profeffion, and it was his great right to be fo: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, Madam; the King very lately fpoke of him admiringly, and mourningly : he was kilful enough to have liv'd still, if knowledge could be fet up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good Lord, the King languifhes of ?

Laf. A fiftula, my Lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His fole child, my Lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have thofe hopes of her good, that her education promifes her: difpofition fhe inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities *, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too: in her they are the better for her fimplenefs; fhe derives her honesty, and atchieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, Madam, get from her

tears.

Count. 'Tis the beft brine a maiden can feafon her praife in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her forrows. takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this,

** By virtuous qualities here are not meant thofe of a moral kind, but fuch as are acquired by erudition and good breeding. Helena;

Helena; go to, no more; left it be rather thought you affect a forrow, than to have it.

Hel. I do affect a forrow, indeed, but I have it

too.

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, exceffive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be not enemy to the grief, the excess makes it foon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I defire your holy wishes.

Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou bless'd, Bertram, and fucceed thy father

In manners as in fhape! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, truft a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for filence,
But never tax'd for fpeech. What heav'n more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! farewel, my Lord;

'Tis an unfeafon'd courtier, good my Lord,
Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the beft,

That fhall attend his love.

Count. Heav'n blefs him! Farewel, Bertram.

[Exit Countefs. Ber. [To Hel.] The beft wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts, be fervants to you! Be comfortable to my mother your mistrefs, and make much of her. Laf. Farewel, pretty Lady, you must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.

Avulsof SCENE II.

- Hel. Oh, were that all! I think not on my fa

ther;

And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than thofe I fhed for him. What was he like?

I have forgot him. My imagination.
Carries no favour in it, but my Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,

A 3

That

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