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SCENE V. Another Room in the same.

Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. Laf. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted testimony.
Laf. Then

my
dial

goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.

Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valor; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends; I will pursue the amity.

Enter PAROLLES.
Par. These things shall be done, sir.

[To BERTRAM. Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? Par. Sir?

Laf. O, I know him well; ay, sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor. Ber. Is she gone to the king?

[Aside to PAROLLES. Par. She is. Ber. Will she away to-night? Par. As you'll have her.

Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride, And, ere I do begin,

Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter

1 The bunting nearly resembles the sky-lark, but has little or no song.

may be

end of a dinner ; but one that lies three thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.—God save you, captain.

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur ?

Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard;' and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. Ber. It

you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell, monsieur. I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; we must do good against evil.

Par. An idle lord, I swear.
Ber. I think so.
Par. Why, do you not know him ?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

Enter HELENA.
Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king, and have procured his leave
For present parting; only, he desires
Some private speech with you.
Ber.

I shall obey his will
You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not color with the time, nor does

[Exit.

1 It was a piece of foolery practised at city entertainments, when an allowed fool or jester was in fashion, for him to jump into a large, deep custard set for the purpose, to cause laughter among the “barren spectators."

2 The first folio reads, “than you have or will to deserve.”—Perhaps the word wit was omitted: the second folio omits to.

The ministration and required office
On my particular : prepared I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home ;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you;
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need
Greater than shows itself, at the first view,
Το
you that know them not. This to my mother.

[Giving a letter. 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so I leave you to your wisdom. Hel.

Sir, I can nothing say, But that I am your most obedient servant.

Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel.

And ever shall
With true observance seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have failed
To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that go.
My haste is very great : farewell; hie home

Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.
Ber.

Well, what would you say?
Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ; 1
Nor dare I say, 'tis mine ; and yet it is;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.
Ber.

What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much :—nothing,

indeed, I would not tell you what I would. My lord—faith,

yes;
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss.

Ber. I pray you stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?—Fare-
well.

[Exit HELENA.

1 Possess, or own.

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Go thou toward home; where I will never come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum.-
Away, and for our flight.
Par.

Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Florence. A Room in the Duke's

Palace. Flourish.

Enter the Duke of Florence, attended; two French

Lords, and others. Duke. So that, from point to point, now have you

heard The fundamental reasons of this war ; Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after. 1 Lord.

Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part; black and fearful
On the opposer.
Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin

France
Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.
2 Lord.

Good my lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yield,"
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion ; therefore dare not
Say what I think of it; since I have found

1 i. e. explain.
2 One not in the secret of affairs; so inward in a contrary sense.

3 Warburton and Upton are of opinion that we should read, “By selfunable notion.

Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guessed.
Duke.

Be it his pleasure.
2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature,
That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day,
Come here for physic.
Duke.

Welcome shall they be ; And all the honors, that can fly from us, Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell. To-morrow to the field.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE II. Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's

Palace.

Enter Countess and Clown.

Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her.

Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you?

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song.

Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.

[Opening a letter. Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court; our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your

old ling and your Isbels o'the court. The brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

Count. What have we here?
Clo. E'en that you have there.

[Exit.

1 As we say at present, our young fellows.

2 The tops of the boots, in Shakspeare's time, turned down, and bung loosely over the leg. The folding part, or top, was the ruff. It was of softer leather than the boot, and often fringed. VOL. II.

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