1

Ber. He fhall be whipt through the Army wi

in his Forehead.

2 Ld. This is your devore Linguift, and the Army

Ber. I could er

he's a Cat to m

Int. I perce fain to hang Par. M

die, but

the Re
i'th' S

the

fr

I

1.NXOr be cruibd with a

Scarf, that

if you could hand out & Country where but Women

Fare ye

Shame, you might begin well, Sir, I am for France too, [Exit.

w what had receird to much
hapuntent Nation

we thall speak of you there.

Twould burit at this. Captain, I'll be no more,
Par. Yet am I thankful: It my Heart were great,
But I will eat and drink, and fleep as foft
As Captain hall. Simply the thing I am
Shall make me live: Who knows himself a Braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pals,
That every Braggart thall 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'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 Christian 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 almost 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 whofe truft

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 yet muft fuffer
Something in my behalf.

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 Course, the End is the Renown. [Exeunt.
Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.

Laf. No, no, no, your Son was mifs-led with a snipt 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 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 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. 'Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. We may pick a thoufand 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.

Laf. Whether dost thou profess thy felf, a Knave or a Fool?

Clo. A Fool, Sir, at a Woman's Service, and a Knave at a Man's.

Laf. Your Diftinction?

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 Bauble, Sir, to do her Service.

La. I will fubfcribe for thee, thou art both Knave and Fool.

Clo. At your Service.

Laf. No, no, no.

Clo. Why, Sir, if I cannot ferve you, I can ferve as great a Prince as you are.

Laf. Who's that, a Frenchman?

Clo. Faith, Sir, a has an English Name, but his Phifnomy is more hotter in France than here.

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 fuggeft thee from thy Mafter thou talk'ft of, ferve him ftill.

Clo. I am a woodland Fellow, Sir, that always lov'd a great Fire, and the Mafter I speak of ever keeps a good Fire, but fure he is the Prince of the World, let his Nobility remain in's 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 flowry Way that leads to the broad Gate, and the great Fire.

Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee, and I tell thee fo before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways, let my Horfes be well look'd to, without any Tricks.

Clo. If I put any Tricks upon 'em, they fhall be Jades Tricks, which are their own Right by the Law of Na

ture.

Laf. A fhrewd Knave, and unhappy.

[Exit.

Count.

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 Saucinefs, and indeed he has no Pace, but he runs where he will.

Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amifs; and I was about to tell you, fince I heard of the good Lady's Death, and that my Lord your Son was upon his Return home, I mov'd the King my Mafter to speak in the Behalf of my Daughter; which in the Minority of them both, his Majefty, out of a felf gracious Remembrance, did first propose; his Highness hath promis'd me to do it, and to ftop up the Displeasure he hath conceiv'd against your Son, there is no fitter Matter. How do's your Ladyfhip like it.

Count. With very much Content, my Lord, and I wish it happily effected.

Laf. His Highness comes Poft from Marfelliés, of as able a Body as when he numbred thirty, and will be here to Morrow; or I am deceiv'd by him, that in fuch Intelligence hath feldom fail'd.

Count. It rejoices me that I hope I shall fee him e'er I die. I have Letters that my Son will be here to Night: I fhall befeech your Lordship to remain with me 'till they meet together.

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what Manners I might fafely be admitted.

Count. You need but plead your honourable Privilege. Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold Charter; but I thank my God it holds yet.

Enter Clown.

Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your Son with a Patch of Velvet on's Face; whether there be a Scar under't or not 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.

Count. A Scar nobly got,

Or a noble Scar, is a good Livery of Honour.

So belike is that.

Clo. But it is your carbinado'd Face.

Laf. Let us go fee

Your Son, I pray you: I long to talk
With the young noble Soldier.

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,

Hel, B

ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants. UT this exceeding posting 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 Majesty's Ear,
If he would spend his Power, God save you, Sir,
Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have feen 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 feem fo adverfe, and means unfit;