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Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: a' will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

Count. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night: I shall beseech your lordship, to remain with me till they meet together.

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.

Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege. Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.

Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O, madam! yonder 's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under it, or no, the velvet knows; but 't is a goodly patch of velvet. His left cheek is a check of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so, belike, is that.

Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face.

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

Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at every man. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I-Marseilles. A Street.
Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two
Attendants.

Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night,
Must wear your spirits low: we cannot help it ;
But, since you have made the days and nights as one,
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
Be bold, you do so grow in my requital,
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time,
Enter a Gentleman, a Stranger.1

This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
If he would spend his power.-God save you, sir.
Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Gent. I have been sometimes there.

Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
From the report that goes upon your goodness;
And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use of your own virtues, for the which

I shall continue thankful.

Gent.

What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you To give this poor petition to the king, And aid me with that store of power you have, To come into his presence.

Gent. The king's not here.

Hel.

SCENE II.-Rousillon. The inner Court of the COUNTESS'S Palace.

Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, ill-favoured.2 Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter. I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir: I spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee farther.

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh! pr'ythee, stand away: a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.

Enter LAFEU.

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat) that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied [Giving it to him. withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown.

Not here, sir?

Gent. Not, indeed He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste Than is his use.

Wid.

Lord, how we lose our pains!
Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.-
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
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 thank your pains for it.
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent.
This I'll do for you.
Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
Whate'er falls more.--We must to horse again:
Go, go, provide.

[Exeunt.

1 a gentle Astringer : in f. e. 2 This word is not added in f. e.

Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 't is too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you. Let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.

Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha 't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word, then.-Cox' my passion! give me your hand.--How does your drum? Par. O, my good lord! you were the first that found [thee. Laf. Was 1, in sooth ? and I was the first that lost

me.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some | Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's coming; I know by his trumpets.-Sirrah, inquire farther after me: I had talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat go to, follow.

Par. I praise God for you.
[Exeunt.
A Room in the COUNTESS'S
SCENE III.-The Same. A Room in the COUNTESS'S
Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords,
Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it; but your son,

As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

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King.

Praising what is lost

Makes the remembrance dear. - Well, call
hither.

We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition.--Let him not ask our pardon:
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 't is our will he should.

Steals, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this lord.

Ber.

My liege, at first

Admiringly.

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour,
Extended or contracted all proportions,
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen,

To a most hideous object. Thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King.

Well excus'd:

That thou didst love her strikes some scores away
From the great compt. But love, that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,

To the great sender turns a sore2 offence,
Crying, that's good that 's gone. Our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave :
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust;
Our own love, waking, cries to see what's done,3
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we 'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.

Laf. Which better than the first, O, dear heaven,
bless !4

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease".
Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested, give a favour from you,
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,

Hers it was not.

him That she may quickly come.-By my old beard,
And every hair that 's on 't, Helen, that 's dead,
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last time ere she took her leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.
Ber.
King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to 't.-
This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token

Gent.
I shall, my liege. [Exit Gentleman.
King. What says he to your daughter? have you
spoke ?

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high

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Laf.

I am sure I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd: my lord, she never saw it.
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought
I stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully

I could not answer in that course of honour
As she had made the overture, she ceas'd,
In heavy satisfaction, and would never
Receive the ring again.

1 blade: in f. e. 2 sour in f. e. 3 This and the next line are erased by the MS. emendator of the folio, 1632. 4 f. e. assign this and the next line to the Countess. 5 Old copies cesse. 6 ere I in f. e.

Plutus himself,

King.
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,1
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: 't was mine, 't was Helen's,
Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with 't yourself,
Confess 't was hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her. She call'd the saints to surety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
Where you have never come, or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber.

She never saw it.

King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour,
And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,-'t will not prove so ;-
And yet I know not:-thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead;-which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring.-Take him away.-
[Guards seize BERTRAM.
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him!
We'll sift this matter farther.
Ber.

If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was. [Exit BERTRAM, guarded.
Enter the Gentleman, a Stranger.2

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gent.
Gracious sovereign,
Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not:
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her business looks in her
With an importing visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.] "Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widower: his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice. Grant it me, O king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPILET." Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll3 him for this, I'll none of him.

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King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,
To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors.-
Go speedily, and bring again the count.

[Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.
I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.
Count.

Now, justice on the doers!
Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded.

King. I wonder, sir, for, wives are monsters to you,
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry.-What woman 's that?

4

My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied,
Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedy.

King. Come hither, county. Do you know these
women?

Ber. My lord, I neither can, nor will deny
But that I know them. Do they charge me farther?
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife?
[Rising.'

Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
Dia.

If you shall marry,

You give away this hand, and that is mine;
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
You give away myself, which is known mine;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,

That she which marries you must marry me;
Either both, or none.

Laf. [To BERTRAM.] Your reputation comes too short for my daughter: you are no husband for her. Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, Whom sometime I have laugh'd with. Let your highness

Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,
Than so to think that I would sink it here. [friend,
King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to
Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour,
Than in my thought it lies.

Dia.

Good my lord,

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.

King. What say'st thou to her ?
Ber.

She's impudent, my lord;
And was a common gamester to the camp.
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord: if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him. O! behold this ring,
Whose high respect, and rich validity,
Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

Count.

He blushes, and 't is his.o
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife:
That ring's a thousand proofs.
King.

Methought, you said,

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He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debauch'd,
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
Am I or that, or this, for what he 'll utter,
That will speak any thing?
King.

She hath that ring of yours.
Ber. I think, she has: certain it is, I lik'd her,
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth.
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
[Kneeling.5 | Her infinite cunning,' with her modern grace,

Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow, and DIANA. Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet:

1 An allusion to the Alchemists. 2 Enter a Gentleman: in f. e. 3 A "toll" was paid for the privilege of selling a horse at a fair. 4 This word is inserted in place of "sir," in Lord F. Egerton's MS. annotated folio, 1623. 5 Not in f. e. 6 count in f. e.

8 Old copies hit (the old form of it). 9 insuit coming in f. e.

7 Not in f. e.

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