1 Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far, that the rarity redeems him.

Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, 1 need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu1 he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Dumain?

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me?

1 Sold. What's he?

Par. Even a crow of 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 outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp.

1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine ?

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Rousillon.

1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.

2

Par. 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 1 run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?

[Aside.

1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The general says, you, that have so traitorously discov-, ered 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 die. Come, headsmen, off with his head.

Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my death!

1 The fourth part of the smaller French crown, about eight pence. 2 To deceive the opinion.

[Unmuffling him.

1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. So, look about you: Know you any here? Ber. Good morrow, noble captain.

2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain.

2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord Lafeu? I am for France.

1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Rousillon? An I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare you well.

[Exeunt BERTRAM, Lords, &c. 1 Sold. You are undone, captain; all but your scarf, that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

1 Sold. 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 fooled, 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 wronged you,

One of the greatest in the Christian world

Shall be my surety; 'fore whose 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 informed
His grace is at Marseilles;1 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,
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, mistress,
Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labor
To recompense your love. Doubt not but Heaven
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motive2

And helper to a husband. But, O strange men!
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy3 trusting of the cozened thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night! So lust doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away:
But more of this hereafter.You, Diana,

1 Marseilles, in the old copy, is written Marcella and Marcellus. 2 i. e. to be my mover.

3 Saucy was used in the sense of wanton. We have it with the same meaning in Measure for Measure.

Under my poor instructions, yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.

Dia.

Let death and honesty

Go with your impositions, I am yours,1
Upon your will to suffer.

2

Hel. Yet, I pray you, But with the word, the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us. All's well that ends well: still the fine's the crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt.

3

SCENE V. Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.

Enter Countess, LAFEU, and Clown.

4

Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipttaffeta fellow there; whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his color: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour; and your son here at home, more advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.

Count. I would I had not known him! It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever na

1 i. e. let death, accompanied by honesty, go with the task you impose, still I am yours, &c.

2 The reading proposed by Blackstone,

"Yet I fray you

But with the word: the time will bring, &c."

seems required by the context, and makes the passage intelligible.

3 A translation of the common Latin proverb, Finis coronat opus; the origin of which has been pointed out by Mr. Douce, in his Illustrations, vol. i. p. 323.

4 It has been thought that there is an allusion here to the fashion of yellow starch for bands and ruffs, which was long prevalent; and also to the custom of coloring paste with saffron. The plain meaning seems to be that Parolles's vices were of such a colorable quality as to be sufficient to corrupt the inexperienced youth of a nation, and make them take the same hue.

ture 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 salads, ere we light on such another herb.

Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjorum of the salad, or rather the herb of grace.1

Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.

Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. 2

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, and do his

service.

Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bawble,3 sir, to do her service.

Laf. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool.

Clo. At your service.

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 ?

4

Clo. Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there.

1 i. e. rue.

2 The old copy reads grace. The emendation is Rowe's; who also supplies the word salad in the preceding speech. The clown quibbles on grass and grace.

3 The fool's bawble was "a short stick ornamented at the end with the figure of a fool's head, or sometimes with that of a doll or puppet. To this instrument there was frequently annexed an inflated bladder, with which the fool belabored those who offended him, or with whom he was inclined to make sport. The French call a bawble, marotte, from Marionette."

4 The old copy reads maine.