Ber. He fhall be whipt

in his Forehead.

2 Ld. This is vo

Linguift, and
Ber. I co

he's a Cat r

Int. Ir fain to h

Par.

die, b the F

Plot?
int. You are undone, Captain, all but your

8.31

hind out & Country where but Women

bas 4 Next on't yet

Who cannot be cruth'd with a
could

we thall fpeak of you there.

were that had receiv'd to much shame, you might begin impudent Nation. Fare ye well, Sir, I am for France too, 'Twould burft at this. Captain, I'll be no more, Par Yet am I thankful: If my Heart were great, As Captain hall. Simply the thing I am Let him fear this; for it will come to país, Shall make me live: Who knows himself a Braggart, That every Braggart fhall be found an Afs. Ruft Sword, cool Blushes, and Parolles live Safeft in Shame; being fool'd, by Fool'ry thrive; There's Place and Means for every Man alive.

i'th'

t

I'll after them.

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana.

[Exit.

Hel. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, One of the greatest in the Chriftian World

Shall be my Surety; 'fore whofe Throne 'tis needful,
E'er I can perfect mine Intents, to kneel.

Time was I did him a defired Office,
Dear almoft as his Life, which gratitude
Through flinty Tartars Bofom would peep forth,
And anfwer Thanks. I duly am inform'd,
His Grace is at Marfellies, to which Place
We have convenient Convoy; you must know
I am fuppofed dead, the Army breaking,
My Husband hies him home, where Heav'n 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 Bufinefs was more welcome.

Hel. Nor you, Mistress,

Ever a Friend, whofe Thoughts more truly labour
To recompence your Love: Doubt not but Heav'n

Hath

Hath brought me up to be your Daughter's Dowre,
As it hath fated her to be my Motive

And helper to a Husband. But, O ftrange Men!
That can fuch fweet Ufe make of what they hate,
When fawcy trufting of the cozen'd Thoughts
Defiles the pitchy Night, fo Luft doth play
With what it loaths, for that which is away.
But more of this hereafter. You Diana,
Under my poor Inftructions
Something in my behalf.

yet must suffer

Dia. Let Death and Honesty

Go with your Impofitions, I am yours
Upon your Will to fuffer.

Hel. Yet I pray you:

But with the Word the Time will bring on Summer,
When Briars fhall have Leaves as well as Thorns,

And be as fweet as fharp: We must away,

Our Waggon is prepar'd, and Time revives us;
All's well that ends well, ftill, that finds the Crown;
What e'er the Courfe, the End is the Renown. [Exeunt.
Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.

Laf. No, no, no, your Son was mifs-led with a fnipt taffata Fellow there, whofe villanous Saffron would have made all the unbak'd and dow Youth of a Nation in his Colour. Your Daughter-in-law had been alive at this Hour, and your Son here at home, more advanc'd by the King than by that red-tail'd Humble-Bee I fpeak of.

Count. I would I had not known him, it was the Death of the most virtuous Gentlewoman; that ever Nature had Praise for Creating; if fhe had partaken of my Flesh, and coft me the deareft Groans of a Mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted Love.

Laf. Tas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. We may pick a thousand Sallets e'er we light on fuch another Herb. Clo. Indeed, Sir, fhe was the fweet Marjoram of the Sallet, or rather the Herb of Grace.

Laf. They are not Sallet-Herbs, you Knave, they are Nofe-herbs.

Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, Sir, I have not much Skill in Graffe.

Clo. 'Faith there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine Hats, and most courteous Feathers, which bow the Head, and ncd at every Man.

[Exeunt,

ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants.

Hel, BUT this exceeding pofting Day and Night,

Muft wear your Spirits low, we cannot help it, But fince you have made the Days and Nights as one, To wear your gentle Limbs in my Affairs,

Be bold you do fo grow in my requital,
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time.
Enter a Gentleman.

This Man may help me to his Majefty's Ear,
If he would spend his Power, God fave you, Sir,
Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the Court of France,
Gent. I have been fometimes there,

Hel. I do prefume, Sir, that you are not fallen
From the Report that goes upon your Goodness;
And therefore goaded with most sharp Occafions,
Which lay nice Manners by, I put you to
The ufe of your own Virtues, for the which
I fhall continue thankful.

Gent. What's your Will?

Hel. That it will please you

To give this poor Petition to the King,

And aid me with that ftore of Power you have

To come into his Presence.

Gent. The King's not here,

Hel. Not here, Sir?

Gent, Not indeed,

He hence remov'd laft Night, and with more hafte
Than is his use.

Wid. Lord, how we lofe our Pains,

Hel. All's well that Ends well yet,

Tho' Time seem so adverfe, and means unfit;

I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Roffilion,
Whither I am going.

Hel. I do befeech you, Sir,

Since you are like to fee 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.

Gent. This I'll do for you.

Hel. And you shall find your felf to be well thank'd, what e'er falls more. We muft to Horfe again. Go, go, provide. [Exeunt.

Enter Clown and Parolles.

Par. Good Mr. Levátch, give my Lord Lafen this Letter; I have e'er now, Sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher Clothes; but I am now, Sir, muddied in Fortune's Mood, and fmell fomewhat ftrong of her strong Displeasure.

Clo. Truly, Fortune's Difpleasure is but fluttish, if it fmell fo ftrongly as thou fpeak'ft of: I will henceforth eat no Fish of Fortune's butt'ring. Préthee, allow the Wind.

Par. Nay, you need not to stop your Nofe, Sir; I speak but a Metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your Metaphor ftink, I will ftop my Nofe, or against any Man's Metaphor. Prethee get thee further.

Par. Pray you, Sir, deliver me this Paper.

Clo. Foh! prethee stand away; a Paper from Fortune's Clofe-ftool, to give to a Nobleman. Look here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu.

Clo. Here is a pur of Fortune's, Sir, or of Fortune's Cat, but not a Muscat; that hath fall'n into the unclean Fishpond of her Difpleafure, and, as he fays, muddied withal. Pray you, Sir, ufe the Carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rafcally Knave. I do pity his Diftrefs in my Smiles of Comfort, and leave him to your Lordship.

Z4

Par.

Par. My Lord, I am a Man whom Fortune hath cruelly fcratch'd.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her Nails now. Wherein have you play'd the Knave with Fortune, that she should fcratch you, who of her felf is a good Lady, and would not have Knaves thrive long under her? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the Juftices make you and Fortune Friends; I am for other Bufinefs.

Par. I beseech your Honour, to hear me one fingle word.

Laf. You beg a fingle Penny more: Come, you shall ha't, fave your word.

Par. My Name, my good Lord, is Parolles.

Laf. You beg more than one word then. Cox my Paffion, give me your Hand: How does your Drum? Par. O my good Lord, you were the firft that found

me.

Laf. Was I, infooth? And I was the firft that loft ther. Par. It lyes in you, my Lord, to bring me in fome Grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon the Knave, doft thou put upon me at once, both the Office of God and Devil; one brings thee in Grace, and the other brings thee out. The King's coming, I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, enquire further after me, I had talk of you laft Night; tho' you are a Fool and a Knave, you fhall eat, go to, follow.

Par. I praife God for you.

[Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, the two French Lords, with Attendants.

King. We loft a Jewel of her and our Esteem

Was made much poorer by it; but your Son,

As mad in Folly, lack'd the Senfe to know
Her Eftimation home.

Count. 'Tis paft, my Liege;

And I beseech your Majefty to make it

Natural Rebellion, done i'th' blade of Youth,

When Oil and Fire, too ftrong for Reafon's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.