Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only, he desires, Some private speech with you. Ber. And ever shall Hel. With true observance seck to eke out that, Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd 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; I shall obey his will. Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is; You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, On my particular: prepar'd I was not So much unsettled : This drives me to entreat you, But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?— Farewell. [Exit HELENA. Go thou toward home; where I will never come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :Sir, I can nothing say, Away, and for our flight. But that I am your most obedient servant. Ber. Come, come, no more of that. Hel. Par. Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt. ACT III. A Room in the Duke's | SCENE II. — Rousillon, A Room in the Coun Palace. 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; 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. - tess'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? Ch. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, be- My son corrupts a well-derived nature Cla. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be kill'd?' Cla. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. 1 Gen. Save you, good madam. Ha. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Count. Think upon patience. - 'Pray you, gen- I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, Can woman me unto't:- Where is my son, I pray 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: We met him thitherward; from thence we came, He. Look on his letter, madam; here's my With his inducement. 1 Gen. Count. You are welcome, gentlemen, 2 Gen. We serve you, madam, [Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen. Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air, port. Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? Ay, madam; And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains. And to be a soldier? Count. Count. Return you thither? 1 Gen. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of Hel. [Reads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, [Exit. SCENE III. - Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. - Rousillon. A Room in the Enter COUNTESS and Steward. Count. 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? Read it again. With sainted vow my faults to have amended. I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, Stew. Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o'er-ta'en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain. Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable service. Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour: they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion. : Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl.- Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but, I hope, your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is so lost. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. Enter HELENA, in the dress of a pilgrim. Wid. I hope so. - Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another; I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound? Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Ay, marry, is it. - Hark you! [A march afar off They come this way: - If you will tarry, holy Hel. Which is he? the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment. 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you. Ber. I would, I knew in what particular action to try him. 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprize him; such I will have, whom I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when we bring him to our 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 fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. Enter PAROLLES. 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not Din. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is he the humour of his design: let him fetch off his melancholy? Hd. Perchance he's hurt i'the battle. Par. Lose our drum! well. Mr. He's shrewdly vexed at something: Look, be has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Officers, Wid. The troop is past: Come pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents Hel. I humbly thank you : Both We'll take your offer kindly. SCENE VI.—Camp before Florence. Ind. If your lordship find him not a hilding, bold me no more in your respect. 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceived in him? 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infaite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, drum in any hand. Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. drum. Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! There was an excellent command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers. 2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success : some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. Par. It might have been recovered. Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet. Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal prepar ation, and, by midnight, look to hear further from | me. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it? Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. Ber. I know, thou art valiant; and to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. Par. I love not many words. [Exit. 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do't. 2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. Ber. Why, do you think, he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto? 1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him, you shall see his fall to-night: for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect. 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him ; which you shall see this very night. 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught. Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. 1 Lord. As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. [Exit. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you The lass I spoke of. 2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest. Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i'the wind, Tokens and letters which she did re-send; And this is all I have done: She's a fair creature ; Will you go see her? 2 Lord. SCENE VII. With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt. - Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. t Enter HELENA and Widow. Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further, Nothing acquainted with these businesses; Wid. Nor would I wish you. Hel. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband; And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken, Is so, from word to word; and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. I should believe you; For you have show'd me that, which well approve You are great in fortune. Hel. Take this purse of gold And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay, and pay again, When I have found it. The count he wooes you daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolves to carry her; let her, in fine, consent, As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it, Now his important blood will nought deny That she'll demand: A ring the county wears, That downward hath succeeded in his house, From son to son, some four or five descents 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 seem too dear, Howe'er repented after. Wid. Now I see The bottom of your purpose. Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter ; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent; after this, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is past already. Wid. I have yielded : Instruct my daughter how she shall perséver, Hel. ACT IV. SCENE I. Without the Florentine Camp. Enter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in ambush. 1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge' corner: When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not [Exeu seem to understand him; unless some one amo us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. 1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpretes 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows not thy voice? 1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to spe to us again? |