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

Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgress'd against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the amity.

Enter PAROLLES.

Par. These things shall be done, Sir. [To Bertram. Laf. 'Pray you, Sir, who's his tailor?

Par. Sir?

Laf. O, I know him well: ay, Sir; he, Sır, is a

good workman, a very good tailor.

Ber. Is she gone to the king? [Aside to Parolles. Par. She is.

Ber. Will she away to night?

Par. As you'll have her.

Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treas ure Given order for our horses; and to night, When I should take possession of the bride,And, ere I do begin,

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

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, Monsieur? Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure.

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leap'd into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord: and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewell, Monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you

* The bunting nearly resembles the sky-lark; but has little or no song, which gives estimation to the sky-lark.

have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil.

Par. An idle lord, I swear.

Ber. I think so.

Par. Why, do you not know him?

[Exit.

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common

speech gives him a worthy pass.

clog.

Enter HELENA.

Here comes my

Hel. I have, Sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procured his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you.

Ber. I shall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular: prepared I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse*, than ask, why I entreat you :
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,
Greater than shews itself, at the first view,
To you that knows them not. This to my mother:
[Giving a Letter.

'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so
I leave you to your wisdom.

Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,

But that I am your most obedient servant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.

Hel. And ever shall

With true observance seek to eke out that, Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that go:

My haste is very great: farewell; hie home.

Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon.

Ber. Well, what would you say?

Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owet;

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

But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal

What law does vouch mine own.

Ber. What would you have?

• Wonder.

† Possess.

Hel. Something; and scarce so much :-Nothing,

indeed.

I would not tell you what I would; my lord-'faith

yes;

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my

lord.

Ber. Where are my other men, Monsieur ;[Exit Helena.

Farewell.

Go thou toward home; where I will never come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :

Away, and for our flight.

Par. Bravely coragio!

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-Florence. A Room in the DUKE'S

Pulace.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of FLORENCE, attended; two French LORDS, and others.

Duke. So that from point to point, now have you

heard

The fundamental reason of this war;

Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.

1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel

Upon your grace's part; black, and fearful

On the opposer.

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin

France

Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.

2 Lord. Good my lord,

The reasons of our state I cannot yield,
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion therefore dare not
Say what I think of it; since I have found
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.

Duke. Be it his pleasure.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature*, That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physic.

Duke. Welcome shall they be;

* As we say at present, our young fellows.

And all the honours, that can fly from us,
Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field.

[Flourish.-Exeunt.

SCENE II.---Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS'S

Palace.

Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN.

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

Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you.

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a

song.

Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. [Opening a Letter.

Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves' money, with no stomach.

Count. What have we here?

Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-law; she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son,

This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a king;
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous

For the contempt of empire.

Re-enter CLOWN.

Bertram.

Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, be

tween two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter?

* The folding at the top of the boot.

Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be kill'd so soon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd ?

Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does; the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown.

Enter HELENA and two GENTLEMEN.

1 Gen. Save you, good madam.
Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
2 Gen. Do not say so.

Count. Think upon patience-'Pray you, gentle

men,

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,

Can woman me unto't:-Where is my son, I pray

you?

2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence:

We met him thitherward; from thence we came, And, after some despatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my pass

port.

[Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my fingert, which never shall come off, and shew me a child begotten of thy body, that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a never.

This is a dreadful sentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ? 1 Gent. Ay, madam;

And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pain.
Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer;

If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine ‡,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my son
But I do wash his name out of my blood,
And thou art all my child.-Towards Florence is he?
2 Gent. Ay, madam.

Count. And to be a soldier?

i. e. Affect me suddenly and deeply, as our sex are usually affected.

† i. e. When you can get the ring, which is on my finger, in your possession.

If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself.