if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, 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.

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 tire,
To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
Howe'er repented after.
Wid.
Now I see

The bottom of your purpose.

Wid.

Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more. Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will pre-Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; sently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in In fine, delivers me to fill the time, my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation, Herseif most chastely absent: after this, and, by midni ht, look to hear further from me. To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are To what is past already. gone about it? I have yielded: Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, That time and place, with this deceit so lawful, May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd To her unworthiness: It nothing steads us, To chide him from our eaves; for he persists, As if his life lay on't.

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 Lafen: 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 canght.

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
The lass I spoke of.
[you
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.

With all my heart, my lord.
[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.
Florence. A Room in the Widow's House.
Enter Helena and Widow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
I know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.

Hel.

Why then to-night
Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,
And lawful meaning in a lawful act;
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:
But let's about it.

SCENE I.
Enter first Lord,

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

Without the Florentine Camp.

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 seem to understand him; unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you.

1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak to as again?

1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me.

1 Lord. 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

But

know, is to know straight our purpose: chough's
language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for
you, interpreter, you must seem very politic.
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 earries it: They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked 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

Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, the reports of my tongue.
Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act.

Hel.

Nor would I wish you.

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.

Wid.
I should believe you;
For you have show'd me that, which well approves
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 woos your

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 bath succeeded in his house,

1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. [Aside. 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 another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

I Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is! [Aside. Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn; or the breaking of my Spanish sword. 1 Lord. We cannot afford you so. [Aside, Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to say, it was in stratagem.

[Aside.

1 Lord. Twould not do. Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

1 Lord. Hardly serve.

[Aside.

Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel

take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so I curiously he had set this counterfeit.

2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. 1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these

wars?

2 Lord. I hear, there is an overture of peace. 1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France? 1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.

2 Lord, Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a great deal of his act.

1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his honse her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony, she accomplished: and, there residing, 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 Lord. How is this justified?

1 Lord. 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 confirmed by the rector of the place.

2 Lord. Hath the count all this Intelligence ? 1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

2 Lord. I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad of

this.

1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts of our losses!

2 Lord. And how mightily, some other times, we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour bath here acquired for him, shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.

1 Lord. Hoodman comes !-Porto tartarossa. 1 Sold. 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. I Sold. Bosko chicurmurcho.

2 Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco.

1 Sold. 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 Sold. 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 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so ? Par. Do; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will.

Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

1 Lord. You are deceived, my lord: this is monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist (that was his own phrase), that had the whole rhetoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger.

2 Lord. 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. 1 Sold. 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.

1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this. Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he delivers it.

Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say.

1 Sold. Well, that's set down. Par. I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor.

1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.-a-foot. What say you to that? Enter a Servant.

1 Sold. Demand of him what strength they are

How now? where's your master?

Serv. 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 offered him letters of commendations to the king.

2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. Enter Bertram.

1 Lord. They 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 despatched sixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have conge'd with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; baried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; entertained my convoy; and, between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

2 Lord. If the businesses 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 diaJogue between the fool and the soldier?--Come, bring forth this counterfeit module; he has deceived me, like a double meaning prophesier.

2 Lord. Bring him forth [Exeunt Soldiers]: he has sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. Ber. No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

1 Lord. 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 confessed 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 con

fessed ?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

2 Lord. 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.

Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live 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 and fifty each: mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and 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. Ber. What shall be done to him?

1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Dewith the duke. mand of him my conditions, and what credit I have

of him, whether one captain Dumain be i'the camp, a
1 Sold. Well, that's set down. You shall demand
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?

cular of the intergatories: Demand them singly.
Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the parti-
1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain?
Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the
Par. I know him: he was a botcher's 'prentice in
sheriff's fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could
not say him, nay.
Dumain lifts up his Hand in anger.
Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though
falls.
I know, his brains are forfeit to the next tile that

1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the dake of Florence's camp?

Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. of your lordship anon. 1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear

I Sold. What is his reputation with the duke?

officer of mine; and writ to me this other day, to Par. The duke knows him for no other but a poor turn him out o'the band: 1 think, I have his letter in my pocket.

1 Sold. Marry, we'll search.

there, or it is upon a file, with the duke's other letPar. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is

ters, in my tent.

1 Sold. Here 'tis; here's a paper; Shall I read it Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no.

Ber. A plague apon him! muffled! he can say to you? nothing of me; hush! hush!

Ber. Our interpreter does it well. 1 Lord. Excellently.

1 Sold. 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 Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very ruttish I pray you, sir, put it up again.

1 Sold. 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.

Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue!

Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivions young boy the count, have I 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 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 die. Come, headsman, off with his head.

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

I Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unmuffling him.

1 Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, So, look about you; Know you any here! and take it;

Lit;

After he scores, he never pays the score:
Half won, is match well made; match, and well make
He ne'er pays after debts, take it before;
And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this,
Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss:
For count 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.

Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme in his forehead.

2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier.

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat,

and now he's a cat to me.

1 Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you.

Par. My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repeat out the remainder of nature let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i'the stocks, or any where, so I may

live.

1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this captain Dumain: You have answered 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 breaking them, he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swinedrunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have bat little more to say, sir, of his honesty he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing.

1 Lord. I begin to love him for this. Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A pox apon him for me, he is more and more a cat.

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 Ber. 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'l be no more;
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft
As captain shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make me ive. Who knows himself a braggart
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rast, sword! cool, bushes! 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.

SCENE IV.

[Exit.

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 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 auswer, thanks: I duly am inform'd, His grace is at Marseilles; to which place We have convenient convoy. You mast 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 1 Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far, that Your business was more welcome. the rarity redeems him.

1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians,-to belie him, I will not,-and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place there call'd 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.

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

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

Hel.

Nor you, mistress,
Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
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 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
Du-Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play

Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu 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 main ?

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 1 Sold. What's he?

Par. E'en a crow of the same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great Ideal 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 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.

With what it loathes, 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.
But, with 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 the crown;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
[Exeunt

SCENE V.

Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.

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.

Count. You need but plead your honourable privi

Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.

Enter Countess, Lafen, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-lege. taffata fellow there whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: 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 humblebee I speak of.

Count. would, I had 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 salads, ere we light on such another herb.

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

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.

Lof. 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.

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?

Clo. Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in 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 purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still.

a

Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever keeps good fire. But, sure, he is 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 flowery way, that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.

Laf. Go thy ways. I begin to be a-weary of thee. and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well looked 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.

Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. Count. 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 sanciness; and, 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 promised 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?

Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected."

Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters, that my son will be here

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 it, 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. livery of honour; so, belike, is that. Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good

Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. Laf. Let us go to see your son, I pray you; Ilong to talk with the young noble soldier.

fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate head and nod at every man.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. Marseilles. A Street.
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two
Attendants..

Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night,
Must wear your spirits low: we cannot help it;
But, since you have made the days and nights as one,
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
Be bold, you do so grow in my requital,
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time;
Enter a gentle Astringer.

This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
If he would spend his power.-God save you, sir.
Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Gent. I have been sometimes there.

From the report that goes upon your goodness;
Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
And, therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use of your own virtues, for the which
I shall continue thankful.

Gent.

What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you
And aid me with that store of power you have,
To give this poor petition to the king;
To come into his presence,

Gent. The king's not here.
Hel.
Gent.

Not here, sir?

Not indeed:

He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste
Than is his use.

Wid.
Lord, how we lose our pains!
Hel. All's well that ends well; yet;
Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.-
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.
I do beseech you, sir,
Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presume shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it:
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

Hel.

Gent.
This I'll do for you.
Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again;-
Go, go, provide.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Rousillon. The inner Court of the
Countess's Palace.

Enter Clown and Parolles.

Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter; I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strong as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering.-Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor.