Chapter II: Part 2

Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit My fancie to your eies, when I consider What great creation, and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now The praised of the King, who so ennobled, Is as 'twere borne so

King. Take her by the hand, And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoize: If not to thy estate, A ballance more repleat

Ber. I take her hand

Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie Shall seeme expedient on the now borne briefe, And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast Shall more attend vpon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her, Thy loue's to me Religious: else, do's erre.

Exeunt.

Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.

Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you

Par. Your pleasure sir

Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation

Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?
Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?
Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode
without bloudie succeeding. My Master?
Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?
Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man

Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of
another stile

Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are
too old

Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which
title age cannot bring thee

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do

Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a prettie wise fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of thy trauell, it might passe: yet the scarffes and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldlie disswade me from beleeuing thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt scarce worth

Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon
thee

Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least thou hasten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee well, thy casement I neede not open, for I look through thee. Giue me thy hand

Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity

Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it

Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it

Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will
not bate thee a scruple

Par. Well, I shall be wiser

Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire to holde my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, he is a man I know

Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation

Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my poore doing eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue. Enter.

Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace off me; scuruy, old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience, and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue no more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile beate him, and if I could but meet him agen. Enter Lafew.

Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's
newes for you: you haue a new Mistris

Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to make some reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good Lord, whom I serue aboue is my master

Laf. Who? God

Par. I sir

Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeues? Do other seruants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine Honor, if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'st thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold beate thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath themselues vpon thee

Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord

Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and no true traueller: you are more sawcie with Lordes and honourable personages, then the Commission of your birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.

Exit

Enter Count Rossillion.

Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very
good, let it be conceal'd awhile

Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer

Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?
Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue
sworne, I will not bed her

Par. What? what sweet heart?
Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:
Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,
The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres

Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import
is, I know not yet

Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy, too'th warres: He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene, That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home, Spending his manlie marrow in her armes Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet Of Marses fierie steed: to other Regions, France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades, Therefore too'th warre

Ros. It shall be so, Ile send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled: Write to the King That which I durst not speake. His present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife To the darke house, and the detected wife

Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?
Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.
Ile send her straight away: To morrow,
Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow

Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard A yong man maried, is a man that's mard: Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go, The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.

Exit

Enter Helena and Clowne.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well? Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but yet she is not well

Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's
not verie well?
Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things
Hel. What two things?
Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send
her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence
God send her quickly.
Enter Parolles.

Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie

Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine
owne good fortune

Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to keepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do's my old Ladie? Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say

Par. Why I say nothing

Clo. Marry you are the wiser man: for many a mans tongue shakes out his masters vndoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie little of nothing

Par. Away, th'art a knaue

Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a knaue, that's before me th'art a knaue: this had beene truth sir

Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found
thee

Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you taught to finde me? Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the encrease of laughter

Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed. Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night, A verie serrious businesse call's on him: The great prerogatiue and rite of loue, Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge, But puts it off to a compell'd restraint: Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets Which they distill now in the curbed time, To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy, And pleasure drowne the brim

Hel. What's his will else? Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king, And make this hast as your owne good proceeding, Strengthned with what Apologie you thinke May make it probable neede

Hel. What more commands hee?
Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie
Attend his further pleasure

Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will

Par. I shall report it so.

Exit Par.

Hell. I pray you come sirrah.

Exit

Enter Lafew and Bertram.

Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a
souldier

Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe

Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance

Ber. And by other warranted testimonie

Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larke
for a bunting

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

Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and transgrest against his valour, and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent: Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pursue the amitie. Enter Parolles.

Par. These things shall be done sir

Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?
Par. Sir?
Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman,
a verie good Tailor

Ber. Is shee gone to the king?
Par. Shee is

Ber. Will shee away to night?
Par. As you'le haue her

Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure, Giuen order for our horses, and to night, When I should take possession of the Bride, And ere I doe begin

Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vses a known truth to passe a thousand nothings with, should bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God saue you Captaine

Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and
you Monsieur?
Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my
Lords displeasure

Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and spurres and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and out of it you'le runne againe, rather then suffer question for your residence

Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord

Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut: the soule of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in matter of heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know their natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better of you, then you haue or will to deserue at my hand, but we must do good against euill

Par. An idle Lord, I sweare

Ber. I thinke so

Par. Why do you not know him?
Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Giues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.
Enter Helena.

Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue For present parting, onely he desires Some priuate speech with you

Ber. I shall obey his will. You must not meruaile Helen at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration, and required office On my particular. Prepar'd I was not For such a businesse, therefore am I found So much vnsetled: This driues me to intreate you, That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse then aske why I intreate you, For my respects are better then they seeme, And my appointments haue in them a neede Greater then shewes it selfe at the first view, To you that know them not. This to my mother, 'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, so I leaue you to your wisedome

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

Ber. Come, come, no more of that

Hel. And euer shall With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that Wherein toward me my homely starres haue faild To equall my great fortune

Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell:
Hie home

Hel. Pray sir your pardon

Ber. Well, what would you say? Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say 'tis mine: and yet it is, But like a timorous theefe, most faine would steale What law does vouch mine owne

Ber. What would you haue?
Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed,
I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes,
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse

Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse

Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord:
Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell.

Exit

Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme: Away, and for our flight

Par. Brauely, Coragio.

Actus Tertius.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a troope of Souldiers.

Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard The fundamentall reasons of this warre, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after

1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull On the opposer

Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome Against our borrowing prayers

French E. Good my Lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a Counsaile frames, By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare not Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile As often as I guest

Duke. Be it his pleasure

Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature, That surfet on their ease, will day by day Come heere for Physicke

Duke. Welcome shall they bee: And all the honors that can flye from vs, Shall on them settle: you know your places well, When better fall, for your auailes they fell, To morrow to'th the field.

Flourish.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue
that he comes not along with her

Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie
melancholly man

Count. By what obseruance I pray you

Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing: mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song

Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes
to come

Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an old man loues money, with no stomacke

Lad. What haue we heere?
Clo. In that you haue there.

Exit

A Letter.

I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne, Bertram. This is not well rash and vnbridled boy, To flye the fauours of so good a King, To plucke his indignation on thy head, By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous For the contempt of Empire. Enter Clowne.

Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene
two souldiers, and my yong Ladie

La. What is the matter

Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght he would

La. Why should he be kill'd? Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your sonne was run away. Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.

French E. Saue you good Madam

Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone

French G. Do not say so

La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen, I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe, That the first face of neither on the start Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you? Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence, We met him thitherward, for thence we came: And after some dispatch in hand at Court, Thither we bend againe

Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport. When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie, that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then) I write a Neuer. This is a dreadfull sentence

La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?
1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorrie
for our paines

Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere, If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine, Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne, But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he? Fren.G. I Madam

La. And to be a souldier

Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu't The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor That good conuenience claimes

La. Returne you thither

Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed

Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,
'Tis bitter

La. Finde you that there?
Hel. I Madame

Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which
his heart was not consenting too

Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife: There's nothing heere that is too good for him But onely she, and she deserues a Lord That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon, And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him? Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which I haue sometime knowne

La. Parolles was it not?
Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee

La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse, My sonne corrupts a well deriued nature With his inducement

Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of
that, too much, which holds him much to haue

La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate you written to beare along

Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your
worthiest affaires

La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies, Will you draw neere? Enter.

Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France. Nothing in France vntill he has no wife: Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France, Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I, That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride vpon the violent speede of fire, Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord: Who euer shoots at him, I set him there. Who euer charges on his forward brest I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't, And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: Better 'twere I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere, That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion, Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre, As oft it looses all. I will be gone: My being heere it is, that holds thee hence, Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although The ayre of Paradise did fan the house, And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone, That pittifull rumour may report my flight To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day, For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away. Enter.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.

Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence Vpon thy promising fortune

Ber. Sir it is A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake, To th' extreme edge of hazard

Duke. Then go thou forth, And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme As thy auspicious mistris

Ber. This very day Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.

Exeunt. omnes Enter Countesse & Steward.

La. 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. Reade it agen.

Letter.

I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious loue hath so in me offended, That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon With sainted vow my faults to haue amended Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre, My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie, Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre, His name with zealous feruour sanctifie: His taken labours bid him me forgiue: I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth, From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue, Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth. He is too good and faire for death, and mee, Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free. Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words? Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much, As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her, I could haue well diuerted her intents, Which thus she hath preuented

Ste. Pardon me Madam, If I had giuen you this at ouer-night, She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes Pursuite would be but vaine

La. What Angell shall Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue, Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo, To this vnworthy husband of his wife, Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth, That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe, Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely. Dispatch the most conuenient messenger, When haply he shall heare that she is gone, He will returne, and hope I may that shee Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe, Led hither by pure loue: which of them both Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence To make distinction: prouide this Messenger: My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake, Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.

Exeunt.

A Tucket afarre off.

Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and Mariana, with other Citizens.

Widdow. Nay come, For if they do approach the Citty, We shall loose all the sight

Diana. They say, the French Count has done
Most honourable seruice

Wid. It is reported, That he has taken their great'st Commander, And that with his owne hand he slew The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour, They are gone a contrarie way: harke, you may know by their Trumpets

Maria. Come lets returne againe, And suffice our selues with the report of it. Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle, The honor of a Maide is her name, And no Legacie is so rich As honestie

Widdow. I haue told my neighbour How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman His Companion

Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles, a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace will keepe you where you are, though there were no further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so lost

Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.
Enter Hellen.

Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know she will lye at my house, thither they send one another, Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are bound? Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand. Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port

Hel. Is this the way?

A march afarre.

Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way: If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime But till the troopes come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd, The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse As ample as my selfe

Hel. Is it your selfe?
Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime

Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure

Wid. You came I thinke from France?
Hel. I did so

Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours
That has done worthy seruice

Hel. His name I pray you?
Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?
Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:
His face I know not

Dia. What somere he is He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France As 'tis reported: for the King had married him Against his liking. Thinke you it is so? Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady

Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,
Reports but coursely of her

Hel. What's his name?
Dia. Monsieur Parrolles

Hel. Oh I beleeue with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing Is a reserued honestie, and that I haue not heard examin'd

Dian. Alas poore Ladie, 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting Lord

Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is, Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her A shrewd turne if she pleas'd

Hel. How do you meane? May be the amorous Count solicites her In the vnlawfull purpose

Wid. He does indeede, And brokes with all that can in such a suite Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide: But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard In honestest defence.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the whole Armie.

Mar. The goddes forbid else

Wid. So, now they come: That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne, That Escalus

Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
Dia. Hee,
That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,
I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honester
He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
Hel. I like him well

Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue That leades him to these places: were I his Ladie, I would poison that vile Rascall

Hel. Which is he?
Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee
melancholly?
Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile

Par. Loose our drum? Well

Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he
has spyed vs

Wid. Marrie hang you

Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.
Enter.

Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bring you, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents There's foure or fiue, to great S[aint]. Iaques bound, Alreadie at my house

Hel. I humbly thanke you: Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide To eate with vs to night, the charge and thanking Shall be for me, and to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this Virgin, Worthy the note

Both. Wee'l take your offer kindly.

Exeunt.

Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.

Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him
haue his way

Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,
hold me no more in your respect

Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble

Ber. Do you thinke I am so farre
Deceiued in him

Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speake of him as my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships entertainment

Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at some great and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayle you

Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try
him

Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake to do

C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowes not from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinke him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring him to our owne 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 feare, offer to betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his soule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie thing

Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his drumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your Lordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and to what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement, your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes. Enter Parrolles.

Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any hand

Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely
in your disposition

Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme

Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so lost. There was excellent command, to charge in with our horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne souldiers

Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that C├Žsar him selfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to command

Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe: some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum, but it is not to be recouered

Par. It might haue beene recouered

Ber. It might, but it is not now

Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer, I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet

Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if you thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring this instrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, be magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in it, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost syllable of your worthinesse

Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it

Ber. But you must not now slumber in it

Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my certaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation: and by midnight looke to heare further from me

Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are
gone about it

Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,
but the attempt I vow

Ber. I know th'art valiant, And to the possibility of thy souldiership, Will subscribe for thee: Farewell

Par. I loue not many words.

Exit

Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this a strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes to vndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to be done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damnd then to doo't

Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe, certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour, and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries, but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after

Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at all of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe vnto? Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention, and clap vpon you two or three probable lies: but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall to night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect

Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe ere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old Lord Lafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie night

Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,
He shall be caught

Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me

Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you

Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew you
The Lasse I spoke of

Cap.E. But you say she's honest

Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once, And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her By this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th winde Tokens and Letters, which she did resend, And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature, Will you go see her? Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hellen, and Widdow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee, I know not how I shall assure you further, But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon

Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne, Nothing acquainted with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now In any staining act

Hel. Nor would I wish you. First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband, And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken, Is so from word to word: and then you cannot By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow, Erre in bestowing it

Wid. I should beleeue you, For you haue shew'd me that which well approues Y'are great in fortune

Hel. Take this purse of Gold, And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre, Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe When I haue found it. The Count he woes your daughter, Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie, Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it: Now his important blood will naught denie, That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares, That downward hath succeeded in his house From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents, 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 seeme too deere, How ere repented after

Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose

Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more, But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne, Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, deliuers me to fill the time, Her selfe most chastly absent: after To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes To what is past already

Wid. I haue yeelded: Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer, That time and place with this deceite so lawfull May proue coherent. Euery night he comes With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs To chide him from our eeues, for he persists As if his life lay on't

Hel. Why then to night Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede; And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act, Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact. But let's about it.

Actus Quartus.

Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in ambush.

Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce for an Interpreter

1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter

Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not
thy voice?
1.Sol. No sir I warrant you

Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs
againe

1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me

Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear the lies he forges. Enter Parrolles.

Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue

Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue
was guiltie of

Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say, came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these perilles

Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and
be that he is

Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue
the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword

Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so

Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in
stratagem

Lo.E. 'Twould not do

Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript

Lo.E. Hardly serue

Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the
Citadell

Lo.E. How deepe?
Par. Thirty fadome

Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be
beleeued

Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
would sweare I recouer'd it

Lo.E. You shall heare one anon

Par. A drumme now of the enemies.

Alarum within.

Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo

All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo

Par. O ransome, ransome,
Do not hide mine eyes

Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos

Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment, And I shall loose my life for want of language. If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speake to me, Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine

Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome

Par. Oh

Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,
Manka reuania dulche

Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco

Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet, And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informe Something to saue thy life

Par. O let me liue, And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew, Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that, Which you will wonder at

Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?
Par. If I do not, damne me

Inter. Acordo linta.
Come on, thou are granted space.

Exit

A short Alarum within.

L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother, We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled Till we do heare from them

Sol. Captaine I will

L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues,
Informe on that

Sol. So I will sir

L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.

Exit

Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.

Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell

Dia. No my good Lord, Diana

Ber. Titled Goddesse, And worth it with addition: but faire soule, In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie? If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde, 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 sterne, And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet selfe was got

Dia. She then was honest

Ber. So should you be

Dia. No: My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord) As you owe to your wife

Ber. No more a'that: I prethee do not striue against my vowes: I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer Do thee all rights of seruice

Dia. I so you serue vs Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses, You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues, And mocke vs with our barenesse

Ber. How haue I sworne

Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth, But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true: What is not holie, that we sweare not by, But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me, If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes, I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes, When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding To sweare by him whom I protest to loue That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes Are words and poore conditions, but vnseal'd At lest in my opinion

Ber. Change it, change it: Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie, And my integritie ne're knew the crafts That you do charge men with: Stand no more off, But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires, Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer My loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer

Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre,
That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring

Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power
To giue it from me

Dia. Will you not my Lord? Ber. It is an honour longing to our house, Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world, In me to loose

Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring, My chastities the Iewell of our house, Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world, In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedome Brings in the Champion honor on my part, Against your vaine assault

Ber. Heere, take my Ring, My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine, And Ile be bid by thee

Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber window: Ile order take, my mother shall not heare. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed, Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee: My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them, When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd: And on your finger in the night, Ile put Another Ring, that what in time proceeds, May token to the future, our past deeds. Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne A wife of me, though there my hope be done

Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee

Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me, You may so in the end. My mother told me iust how he would woo, As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men Haue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie me When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide, Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid: Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne, To cosen him that would vniustly winne.

Exit

Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.

Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter

Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man

Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him,
for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady

Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you

Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am
the graue of it

Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe made in the vnchaste composition

Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our
selues, what things are we

Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe

Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue his company to night? Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to his houre

Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit

Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other

Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these
Warres?
Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace

Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded

Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he
trauaile higher, or returne againe into France?
Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether
of his councell

Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great
deale of his act

Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing, the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now she sings in heauen

Cap.E. How is this iustified? Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters, which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place

Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?
Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the veritie

Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of
this

Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts
of our losses

Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred with a shame as ample

Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne, good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire if they were not cherish'd by our vertues. Enter a Messenger.

How now? Where's your master? Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters of commendations to the King

Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there, if they were more then they can commend. Enter Count Rossillion.

Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse, heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord, i'st not after midnight? Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, & betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue not ended yet

Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your Lordship

Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a double-meaning Prophesier

Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night
poore gallant knaue

Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe? Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes: and what thinke you he hath confest? Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a? Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you are, you must haue the patience to heare it. Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.

Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing
of me: hush, hush

Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa

Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say
without em

Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint,
If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more

Int. Bosko Chimurcho

Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco

Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall
bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note

Par. And truly, as I hope to liue

Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke is strong. What say you to that? Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable: the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to liue

Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?
Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which
way you will: all's one to him