SCENE I.
Without the Florentine Camp.
Enter first Lord, and Soldiers, note to their Ambush.
1. L.
He can come no other way but by this hedge
-- 64 --
corner: When you sally upon him, speak what terrible
language you will; though you understand it not yourselves,
no matter: for we must not seem to understand
him; unless some one among us, whom we must produce
for an interpreter.
1. S.
Good captain, let me be the interpreter.
1. L.
Art not acquainted with him? knows he not
thy voice?
1. S.
No, sir, I warrant you.
1. L.
But what linsy-wolsy hast thou to speak to us
again?
1. S.
E'en such as you speak to me.
1. L.
He must think us some band of strangers i'the
adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all
neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one
be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak
one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight note
our purpose:14Q0409 chough's language, gabble enough, and
good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem
very politick. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile
two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the
lies he forges.
Enter Parolles.
Par.
Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill
be time enough to go home. What shall I say, I have
done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries
it: They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late
knock'd too often at my door. I find, my tongue is too
fool-hardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it,
and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;This is the first truth that e'er thine own
tongue was guilty of.&crquo;
-- 65 --
Par.
What the devil should move me to undertake
the recovery of this drum; being not ignorant of the
impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I
must give myself some hurts, and say, I got them in
exploit: Yet slight ones will not carry it; they will
say, Came you off with so little? and great ones I dare
not give; Wherefore? what's the instance? Tongue, I
must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy
myself another of Bajazet's mute, if note you prattle me into
these perils.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;Is it possible, he should know what he is,
and be that he is?&crquo;
Par.
I would, the cutting of my garments would
serve the turn; or the breaking of my Spanish sword.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;We cannot afford you so.&crquo;
Par.
Or the baring of my beard; and to say, it was
in stratagem.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;'Twould not do.&crquo;
Par.
Or to drown my cloaths, and say, I was stript:
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;Hardly serve.&crquo;
Par.
Though I swore, I leap'd from the window of
the citadel—
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;How deep?&crquo;
Par.
Thirty fathom.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;Three great oaths would scarce make that
be believed.&crquo;
Par.
I would, I had any drum of the enemies'; I
would swear, I recover'd it.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;You shall hear one anon.&crquo;
Par.
A drum now of the enemies'!
[Alarum within. Ambush rush upon Parolles;
1. L.
Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
-- 66 --
Sol.
Cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.
[bind, and blindfold him.
Par.
O, ransom, ransom: Do not hide mine eyes.
1. S.
Boskos thromuldo boskos note.
Par.
I know, you are the Muskos' regiment,
And I shall lose my life for want of language:
If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
Italian, French, note let him speak to me, I'll
Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.
1. S.
Boskos vauvado:—
I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue:—
Kerelybonto:—Sir,
Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards
Are at thy bosom.
Par.
Oh, oh!
1. S.
Pray, pray, pray.—
Manca revanta note dulche.
1. L.
Osceorbi dulcos note volivorco.
1. S.
The general is content to spare thee yet;
And, hood-winkt as thou art, will lead thee on,
To gather from thee: haply, thou may'st inform
Something to save thy life.
Par.
O, let me live,
And all the secrets of our camp I'll shew,
Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that
Which you will wonder at.
1. S.
But wilt thou faithfully?
Par.
If I do not, damn me.
1. S.
Acordo linta.—
Come on, thou art granted space.
[Exit, with Parolles guarded.
1. L.
Go, tell the count Rosillion, and my brother,
-- 67 --
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffl'd
'Till we do hear from them.
2. S.
Captain, I will.
1. L.
He will betray us all unto ourselves;—
Inform 'em too of that note.
2. S.
So I will, Sir. note
1. L.
'Till then I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Florence. A Room in the Widow's House.
Enter Bertram, and Diana.
Ber.
They told me, that your name was Fontibell.
Dia.
No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber.
Titl'd, goddess;
And worth it, with addition. But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
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 stern;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet self was got.
Dia.
She then was honest.
Ber.
So should you be.
Dia.
No:
My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.
Ber.
No more of that;
I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows:
I was compell'd to her; but I love thee
By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.
-- 68 --
Dia.
Ay, so you serve us,
'Till we serve you: but when you have our roses,
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,
And mock us with our bareness.
Ber.
How have I sworn?
Dia.
'Tis not the many oaths, that make note the truth;
But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.
What is not holy,14Q0410 that we swear not by,
But take the Highest to witness: Then, pray you, tell me,
If I should swear by Jove's great attributes note,
I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ill? this has no holding,
To swear by him whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him: Therefore, your oaths
Are words, and poor conditions; but unseal'd;
At least, in my opinion.
Ber.
Change it, change it;
Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy;
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts,
That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
But give thyself unto my sick desire, note
Who then recovers: say, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so persever.
Dia.
I see, that men make hopes in such affairs, note
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that † ring.
Ber.
I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.
Dia.
Will you not, my lord?
Ber.
It is an honour 'longing to our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world
In me to lose.
-- 69 --
Dia.
Mine honour's such a ring:
My chastity's the jewel of our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world
In me to lose: Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part,
Against your vain assault.
Ber.
Here, take my &dagger2; ring:
My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.
Dia.
When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window;
I'll order take, my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them,
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that, what in time proceeds,
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, 'till then; then, fail not: You have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.
Ber.
A heaven on earth I have won, by wooing thee.
[Exit Bertram.
Dia.
For which live long to thank both heaven and me!
You may so in the end.—
My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in his heart; she says, all men
Have the like oaths: he had sworn note to marry me,
When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lye with him,
When I am bury'd: Since men are note so braid,14Q0411
Marry that will, I live and dye a maid:
-- 70 --
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
The Florentine Camp.
Enter the two Lords; Soldiers, behind, attending.
1. L.
You have not given him his mother's letter?
2. L.
I have deliver'd it an hour since: there is something
in't, that stings his nature; for, on the reading it,
he chang'd almost into another man.
1. L.
He has much worthy blame lay'd upon him,
for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.
2. L.
Especially, he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure
of the king, who had even tun'd his bounty to
sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you
shall let it dwell darkly with you.
1. L.
When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am
the grave of it.
2. L.
He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here
in Florence, of a most chast renown; and this night he
fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given
her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in
the unchast composition.
1. L.
Now God delay our rebellion; as we are ourselves,
what things are we!
2. L.
Meerly our own traitors. And as in the common
course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves,
ere they note attain14Q0412 to their abhorr'd ends; so he,
that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in
his proper stream o'er-flows himself.
1. L.
Is it not most damnable note in us, to be trumpeters
of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his
company to-night?
-- 71 --
2. L.
Not 'till after midnight; for he is dieted to his
hour.
1. L.
That approaches apace: I would gladly have
him see his companion note anatomiz'd; that he might take
a measure of his own judgment, note wherein so curiously he
had set this counterfeit.
2. L.
We will not meddle with him, till he come; for
his presence must be the whip of the other.
1. L.
In the mean time, what hear you of these note wars?
2. L.
I hear, there is an overture of peace.
1. L.
Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
2. L.
What will count Rosillion do then? will he travel
higher, or return again into France?
1. L.
I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether
of his council.
2. L.
Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a great deal
of his act.
1. L.
Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from
his house; her pretence, a note pilgrimage to saint Jaques le
grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony
she accomplish'd: and, there residing,14Q0413 through
the tenderness of her nature, became as a prey to her
grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now
she sings in heaven.
2. L.
How is this justify'd?
1. L.
The stronger part of it, by her own letters;
which makes her story true, even to the point of her
death: her death itself, which could not be her office
to say, is come, was faithfully confirm'd by the rector
of the place.
2. L.
Hath the count all this intelligence?
1. L.
Ay, and the particular confirmations, point for
-- 72 --
point note, to the full arming of the verity.
2. L.
I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad of this.
1. L.
How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts
of our losses!
2. L.
And how mightily, some other times, we drown
our gain in tears! the great dignity, that his valour hath
here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encounter'd with
a shame as ample.
1. L.
The web of our life is of a mingl'd yarn, good
and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our
faults whip'd them not; and our crimes would despair,
if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.—
Enter a Servant.
How now! where's your master?
Ser.
He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he
hath taken a solemn leave; his lordship will next morning
for France. The duke hath offer'd him letters of
commendations to the king.
2. L.
They shall be no more than needful there, if
they were more than they can commend.14Q0414
Enter Bertram.
1. L.
They note cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness:
Here's his lordship now.—How now, my lord? is't not
after midnight?
Ber.
I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesse,
a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I
have conge'd with the duke, done my adieu with his
nearest; bury'd a wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my
lady mother, I am returning; entertain'd my convoy;
and, between these main parcels of dispatch, effected note
many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I
have not ended yet.
-- 73 --
2. L.
If the business be of any difficulty, and this
morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your
lordship.
Ber.
I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to
hear of it hereafter: But shall we have this dialogue
between the fool and the soldier?—Come, bring forth
this counterfeit medal note;—h'as deceiv'd me, like a double-meaning
prophesier.
2. L.
Bring him forth:—[Exeunt Soldiers.] ha's sat
i'the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.
Ber.
No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping
his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?
2. L.
I have told your lordship already; the stocks
carry him. But, to answer you as you would be understood;
He weeps, like a wench that had shed her milk:
he hath confess'd himself to Morgan, whom he supposes
to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance, to this
very instant disaster of his setting i'the stocks; And what,
think you, he hath confess'd?
Ber.
Nothing of me, has he?
2. L.
His confession is taken, and it shall be read to
his face; if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are,
you must have the patience to hear it.
Re-enter Soldiers, with Parolles, and first Soldier.
Ber.
A plague upon him! muffl'd! he can say nothing
of me.
1. L.
Hush note! hoodman comes.14Q0415—Porto tartarossa.
1. S.
He calls for the tortures; What will you say
without 'em?
Par.
I will confess what I know without constraint;
if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.
1. S.
Bosko chimurco.
-- 74 --
1. L.
Boblibindo chicurmurco.
1. S.
You are a merciful general:—Our general bids
you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.
Par.
And truly, as I hope to live.
1. S.
First demand of him, how many horse the duke is
strong. What say you to that?
Par.
Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable:
the troops are all scattered, and the commanders
very poor rogues; upon my reputation and
credit, and as I hope to live.
1. S.
Shall I set down your answer so?
Par.
Do; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which
way you will.
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;All's one to him14Q0416:—What a past-saving slave is this?&crquo;
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;You're deceiv'd, my lord; this is monsieur
Parolles, the gallant militarist, (that was his own phrase)
that had the whole theorique of war in the knot of
his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger.&crquo;
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;I will never trust a man again, for keeping
his sword clean; nor believe he can have every thing
in him, by wearing his apparel neatly.&crquo;
1. S.
Well, that's set down.
Par.
Five or six thousand horse, I said,—I will say
true,—or thereabouts, set down,—for I'll speak truth.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;He's very near the truth in this.&crquo;
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature
he delivers it.&crquo;
Par.
Poor rogues, I pray you, say.
1. S.
Well, that's set down.
Par.
I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the
rogues are marvelous poor.
1. S.
Demand of him of what strength they are of foot.
-- 75 --
What say you to that?
Par.
By my troth, sir, if I were to live but this
present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio a
hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many,
Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii,
two hundred fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher,
Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each: so that the
muster file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts
not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not
shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake
themselves to pieces.
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;What shall be done to him?&crquo;
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;Nothing, but let him have thanks.—Demand
of him my conditions note, and what credit I have with
the duke.&crquo;
1. S.
Well, that's set down. You shall demand of him,
whether one captain Dumaine be i'the camp, a Frenchman;
what his reputation is with the duke, what his valour,
honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks,
it were not possible with well-weighing sums of gold to corrupt
him to a revolt. What say you to this? what do you
know of it.
Par.
I beseech you, let me answer to the particulars
of the interrogatory; note demand them singly.
1. S.
Do you know this captain Dumaine?
Par.
I know him: he was a botcher's prentice in
Paris, from whence he was whip'd for getting the sheriff's
fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could not
say him, nay.
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though
I know, his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.&crquo;
1. S.
Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp?
-- 76 --
Par.
Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of
your lordship anon note.&crquo;
1. S.
What is his reputation with the duke?
Par.
The duke knows him for no other but a poor
officer of mine; and writ to me this other day, to turn
him out o'the band: I think, I have his letter in my
pocket.
1. S.
Marry, we'll search.
Par.
In good sadness, I do not know; either it is
there, or it is upon a file, with the duke's other letters,
in my tent.
1. S.
Here 'tis; here's a paper; Shall I read it to you?
Par.
I do not know, if it be it, or no.
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;Our interpreter does it well.&crquo;
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;Excellently.&crquo;
1. S.
Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,—
Par.
That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an
advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana,
to take heed of the allurement of one count Rosillion, a
foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very ruttish: I pray
you, sir, put it up again.
1. S.
Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour.
Par.
My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in
the behalf of the maid: for I knew the young count to
be a dangerous and lascivious boy; who is a whale to
virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds.
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;Damnable! both sides rouge.&crquo;
1. S.
When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;
After he scores, he never pays the score:
Half won, is match well made note;14Q0417 match, and well make it;
He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before;
-- 77 --
And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this,
Men are to mell with, boys are but to note kiss:
For count note of this, the count's a fool, I know it,
Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.
Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear,
Parolles.
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;He shall be whip'd through the army, with
this rime in his forehead.&crquo;
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold
linguist, and the armipotent soldier.&crquo;
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;I could endure any thing before but a cat,
and now note he's a cat to me.&crquo;
1. S.
I perceive, sir, by our note general's looks, we shall
be fain to hang you.
Par.
My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid
to dye; but that, my offences being many, I would repent
out the remainder of nature: let me live, sir, in a
dungeon, i'the stocks, or any where, so I may live.
1. S.
We'll see what may be done, so you confess
freely; therefore, once more to this captain Dumaine:
You have answer'd to his reputation with the duke, and
to his valour; What is his honesty?
Par.
He will steal, sir, an egg out, of a cloister; for
rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus: he professes
not keeping of oaths; in note breaking them, he is stronger
than Hercules: he will lye, sir, with such volubility,
that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness
is his best virtue; for he will be swine-drunk; and in
his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-cloaths
about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him
in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty:
he has every thing, that an honest man should
-- 78 --
not have; what an honest man should have, he has
nothing.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;I begin to love him for this.&crquo;
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;For this description of thine honesty? A pox
upon him for me! he's more and more a cat.&crquo;
1. S.
What say you to his expertness in war?
Par.
'Faith, sir, h'as led the drum before the English
tragedians,—to belye him, I will not,—and more of
his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he
had the honour to be an officer at a place there called
Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would
do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not
certain.
&clquo;1. L.
&clquo;He hath out-villain'd villany so far, that
the rarity redeems him.&crquo;
&clquo;Ber.
&clquo;A pox on him! he's a cat still.&crquo;
1. S.
His qualities being at this poor price, I need
not to ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt.
Par.
Sir, for a quart-d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple
of his salvation, the inheritance of it note; and cut the intail
from all remainders, and a perpetual succession in it perpetually.
1. S.
What's his brother, the other captain Dumaine?
&clquo;2. L.
&clquo;Why does he ask him of me?&crquo;
1. S.
What's he?
Par.
E'en a crow o'the same nest; not altogether so
great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal
in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, yet his
brother is reputed one of the best that is: In a retreat
he out-runs any lacquey; marry, in coming on he has
the cramp.
1. S.
If your life be saved, will you undertake to
-- 79 --
betray the Florentine?
Par.
Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Rosillion.
1. S.
I'll whisper with the general, and know his
pleasure.
&clquo;Par.
&clquo;I'll no more drumming; A plague of all
drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile
the supposition of that lascivious young boy the
count, have I run into this danger: Yet who would
have suspected an ambush where I was taken?&crquo;
1. S.
There is no remedy, sir, but you must dye:
the general says, you, that have so traiterously discovered
the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports
of men very nobly held, can serve the world for
no honest use; therefore you must dye:—Come, headsman,
off with his head.
Par.
O lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my death!
1. S.
That shall you, and take your leave of all your
friends:
[unbinding him.
So, look about you; Know you any here?
Ber.
Good morrow, noble captain.
2. L.
God bless you, captain Parolles.
1. L.
God save you, noble captain.
2. L.
Captain, what greeting will you to my lord
Lafeu? I am for France.
1. L.
Good captain, will you give me a copy of the
sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Rosillion?
an I were not a very coward, I'd compell it of
you; but fare you well.
[Exeunt Bertram, Lords, &c.
1. S.
You are undone, captain; all but your scarf,
that has a knot on't yet.
Par.
Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?
-- 80 --
1. S.
If you could find out a country where but women
were that had received so much shame, you might
begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, sir, I am for
France too; we shall speak of you there.
[Exit.
Par.
Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
'Twould burst at this: Captain I'll be no more;
But I will eat, and drink, and sleep, as soft
As captain shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword; cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live,
Safest in shame; being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's place, and means, for every man alive.
I'll after them.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Florence. A Room in the Widow's House.
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana.
Hel.
That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you,
One of the greatest in the christian world
Shall be my surety; 'fore whose note throne, 'tis needful,
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel:
Time was, I did him a desired office,
Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth,
And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd,
His grace is at Marseilles note; to which place
We have convenient convoy. You must know,
I am supposed dead: the army breaking,
My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,
And by the leave of my good lord the king,
-- 81 --
We'll be, before our welcome.
Wid.
Gentle madam,
You never had a servant, to whose trust
Your business was more welcome.
Hel.
Nor you note, mistress,
Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompence your love: doubt not, but heaven
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motive
And helper to a husband. But o strange men,
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play
With what it loaths, for that which is away:
But more of this hereafter:—You, Diana,
Under my poor instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.
Dia.
Let death and honesty
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.
Hel.
Yet, I pray you,14Q0418
But with note the word: the time will bring on summer,
When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns,
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away;
Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us:
All's well, that ends well: still the fine's note the crown;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Rosillion. A Room in the Count's Palace.
Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.
Laf.
No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta
fellow14Q0419 there; whose villanous saffron would have
-- 82 --
made all the unbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in
his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this
hour; and your son here at home, more advanc'd by
the king, than by that note red-tail'd humble-bee I speak
of.
Cou.
I would, I had note not known him; it was the death
of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever nature had
praise for creating: if she had partaken of my flesh, and
cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have
owed her a more rooted love.
Laf.
'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may
pick a thousand sallets, ere we light on such another
herb.
Clo.
Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the
sallet; or, rather, the herb of grace.
Laf.
They are not sallet-herbs, you knave, they are
nose-herbs.
Clo.
I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not
much skill in grass. note
Laf.
Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, or
a fool?
Clo.
A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave
at a man's.
Laf.
Your distinction?
Clo.
I would cozen the man of his wife note, and do his
service.
Laf.
So you were a knave at his service, indeed.
Clo.
And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, note to
do her service.
Laf.
I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave
and fool.
Clo.
At your service.
-- 83 --
Laf.
No, no, no.
Clo.
Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as
great a prince as you are.
Laf.
Who's that? a Frenchman?
Clo.
'Faith, sir, he has an English name; note but his
phisnomy is more honour'd in note France, than there.
Laf.
What prince is that?
Clo.
The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness;
alias, the devil.
Laf.
Hold thee, there's my &dagger2; purse: I give thee not
this to suggest thee note from thy master thou talk'st of, serve
him still.
Clo.
I am a wood-land fellow, sir, that always lov'd
a great fire; and the master, I speak of, ever keeps a
good fire. But, for he note is14Q0420 the prince of the world, let his
nobility remain in his court; I am for the house with
the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp
to enter: some, that humble themselves, may, but the
many will be too chill and tender; and they'll be for
the flow'ry way, that leads to the broad gate, and the
great fire.
Laf.
Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee;
and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out
with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well look'd
to, without any tricks.
Clo.
If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be
jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of
nature.
[Exit Clown.
Laf.
A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.
Cou.
So he is. My lord, that's gone, made himself
much sport out of him: by his authority he remains
here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and,
-- 84 --
indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.
Laf.
I like him well; 'tis not amiss: and I was
about to tell you, Since I heard of the good lady's
death, and that my lord your son was upon his return
home, I moved the king, my master, to speak in the
behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them
both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance,
did first propose: his highness hath promis'd me to do
it; and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived
against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your
ladyship like it?
Cou.
With very much content, my lord; and I wish
it happily effected.
Laf.
His highness comes post from Marseilles note, of as
able body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here
to-morrow, or I am deceiv'd by him that in such intelligence
hath seldom fail'd.
Cou.
It rejoices note me, that I hope I shall see him ere
I dye. 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.
Cou.
You need but plead your honourable priviledge.
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't,
or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet:
his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but
his right cheek is worn bare.
-- 85 --
Laf.
A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery
of honour: so, belike, is that.
Clo.
But it is your carbinado'd 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.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
