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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.
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 I run into this danger: Yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?
1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says, you, that have so traiterously 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!
1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unmuffling him,
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 crush'd 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 shali 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,
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:
Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour recompence 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 De files the pitchy night! so lust doth play With what it loaths, for that which is a But more of this hereafter:Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf.
Go with your impositions, I am yours
will to suffer.
Let death and honesty
Yet, I pray you,————
ROUSILLON. A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S PALACE.
Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.
Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata fellow there; whose villainous 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-tail'd humble-bee I speak 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 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 sallads, ere we light on such another herb.
Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallad, or, rather the herb of
Laf. They are not sallad-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs.
Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass.
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
Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, 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?
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 talk'st
serve him still.
Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always
loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever
a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world, let his nobility remain in his court. for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to too little for pomp to enter: some, that humble themselves, may; but the many will be too chill