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your

birth and virtue gives you commiffion. You are not worth another word, elfe I'd call you knave.

I

leave you.

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[Exit.

Enter Bertram.

-Good, ve- ̧·

Par. Good, very good, it is fo then.

ry good, let it be conceal'd a while.

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Par. What is the matter, fweet heart?

Ber. Although before the folemn prieft I've fworn, I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, fweet heart!

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me: I'll to the Tufcan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot: to th' wars.

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is, I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known to th' wars, my boy, to th' wars.

He wears his honour in a box, unfeen,

That hugs his kickfy-wickfy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which fhould fuftain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery fteed to other regions
France is a ftable, we that dwell in't jades,
Therefore to th' war.

houfe,

Ber. It fhall be fo, I'll fend her to my
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the King
That which I durft not fpeak. His prefent gift
Shall furnish me to thofe Italian fields,
Where noble fellows ftrike. War is no ftrife
To the dark houfe, and the detefted wife.

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art fure?
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
I'll fend her straight away: to-morrow,

I'll to the wars, fhe to her fingle forrow.

Par. Why, thefe balls bound, there's noife in it.-"Tis hard;

A young man married, is a man that's marr'd:

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Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go,

The King hath done you wrong: but, huh! 'tis fo.

SCENE

IX.

[Exeunt.

Enter Helena and Clown.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is fhe well?

Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health; she's very merry, but yet fhe is not well: but, thanks be given, fhe's very well, and wants nothing i' th' world; but yet fhe is not well.

Hel. If he be very well, what does fhe ail, that fhe's not very well?

Clo. Truly, fhe's very well, indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that she's not in heav'n, whither God fend her quickly; the other, that she's in earth, from whence God fend her quickly!

Enter Parolles.

Par. Blefs you, my fortunate Lady!

Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good-will to have mine own good fortune.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them ftill. O, my knave, how does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would fhe did as you fay.

Par. Why, I fay nothing.

Clo. Marry, you are the wifer man; for many a man's tongue fpeaks out his mafter's undoing. To fay nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing.

Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You fhould have faid, Sir, before a knave th'art a knave; that's, before me th'art a knave. This had been truth, Sir.

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.

Clo. Did you find me in yourself, Sir? or were you taught to find me? the fearch, Sir, was profitable, and

much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleafure, and the increafe of laughter.

Par. A good knave, i̇'faith, and well fed.
Madam, my Lord will go away to night,
A very ferious bufinefs calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,

Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknow-
But puts it off by a compell'd restraint :

[ledge;

Whofe want and whofe delay is ftrew'd with fweets

Which they diftil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleafure drown the brim.

Hel. What's his will elfe?

Par. That you will take your inftant leave o' th'
King,

And make this hafte as your own good proceeding;
Strengthen'd with what apology you think

May make it probable need..

Hel. What more commands he?

Par. That having this obtain'd, you prefently

Attend his further pleature.

Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will.

Par. I fhall report it so.

[Exit Parolles.

Hel. I pray you.Come, firrah. [To Clown.

[Exeunt.

SCENE X. Enter Lafeu and Bertram.

Laf. But I hope your Lordship thinks not him a foldier.

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

Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.

Ber. I do affure you, my Lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valian”.

Laf. I have then finnud againft his experience, and tranfgrefs'd against his valour; and my ftate that way is dangerous, fince I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will purfue the amity..

Enter Parolles.

Par. These things fhall be done, Sir.
Laf. I pray you, Sir, who's his tailor?
Par. Sir?

Laf. O, I know him well; I, Sir, he, Sir, 's a good

workman, a very good tailor.

Ber. Is the gone to the King?

Par. She is.

Ber. Will fhe away to-night?

Par. As you'll have her.

[Afide to Parolles.

Ber. I have writ my letters, caskered my treasure, given order for our horfes; and to-night, when I fhould take poffeffion of the bride-and ere I do begin

Laf. A good traveller is fomething at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lyes three thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.God fave you,

Captain.

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my Lord and you, Monfieur ?

Par. I know not how I have deferved to run into my Lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and fpurs and all, like him that leapt into the cuftard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than fuffer question for your refidence.

Ber. It may be you have mistaken him, my Lord. Laf. And fhall do fo ever, tho' I took him at's prayers. Fare you well, my Lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut: the foul of this man is his cloaths. Truft him not in matter of heavy confequence. I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewel, Monfieur; I have fpoken better of you, than you have or will deferve at my hand, but we muft do good against evil.

Par. An idle Lord, I fwear.

Ber. I think fo.

Par. Why, do you not know him?

[Exit.

Ber. Yes, I know him well, and common fpeech Gives him a worthy pafs. Here comes my clog.

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SCENE XI.

Enter Helena.

Hel. I have, Sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the King, and have procur'd his leave For prefent parting; only he defires

-Some private fpeech with you.

Ber. I fhall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time; nor does
The miniftration and required office

On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
For fuch a bufinefs; therefore am I found
So much unfettled: this drives me to intreat you,
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather mufe, than afk, why I intreat you;
For my respects are better than they feem,
And my appointments have in them a need
Greater than fhews itself at the first view,
To you that know them not.

This to my mother.
[Giving a letter.

"Twill be two days ere I fhail fee you, fo I leave you to your wisdom.

Hel. Sir, I can nothing fay,

But that I am your moft obedient fervant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel. And ever fhall

With true obfervance feek to eke out that,
Wherein tow'rd me my homely stars have fail'd,
To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that

go:

My hafte is very great. Farewel; hie home.
Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon.

Ber. Well, what would you fay?

Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe:

Nor dare I fay, 'tis mine, and yet it is;

But, like a tim'rous thief, moft fain would steal

What law does vouch mine own.

Ber. What would you have?

Hel. Something, and fcarce fo much-nothing, in

deed

I would not tell you what I would, my

Lord-'faith,

yes ;

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