Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.Ile send her straight away: To morrow,Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow
Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hardA yong man maried, is a man that's mard:Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go,The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.
Exit
Enter Helena and Clowne.
Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well? Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but yet she is not well
Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she'snot verie well?Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two thingsHel. What two things?Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God sendher quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whenceGod send her quickly.Enter Parolles.
Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie
Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mineowne good fortune
Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and tokeepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do'smy old Ladie?Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,I would she did as you say
Par. Why I say nothing
Clo. Marry you are the wiser man: for many a mans tongue shakes out his masters vndoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie little of nothing
Par. Away, th'art a knaue
Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a knaue, that's before me th'art a knaue: this had beene truth sir
Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found thee
Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you taught to finde me? Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the encrease of laughter
Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed.Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night,A verie serrious businesse call's on him:The great prerogatiue and rite of loue,Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge,But puts it off to a compell'd restraint:Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweetsWhich they distill now in the curbed time,To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy,And pleasure drowne the brim
Hel. What's his will else?Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king,And make this hast as your owne good proceeding,Strengthned with what Apologie you thinkeMay make it probable neede
Hel. What more commands hee?Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlieAttend his further pleasure
Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will
Par. I shall report it so.
Exit Par.
Hell. I pray you come sirrah.
Exit
Enter Lafew and Bertram.
Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a souldier
Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe
Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance
Ber. And by other warranted testimonie
Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larkefor a bunting
Ber. I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge,and accordinglie valiant
Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and transgrest against his valour, and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent: Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pursue the amitie. Enter Parolles.
Par. These things shall be done sir
Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?Par. Sir?Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman,a verie good Tailor
Ber. Is shee gone to the king?Par. Shee is
Ber. Will shee away to night?Par. As you'le haue her
Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure,Giuen order for our horses, and to night,When I should take possession of the Bride,And ere I doe begin
Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vses a known truth to passe a thousand nothings with, should bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God saue you Captaine
Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord andyou Monsieur?Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into myLords displeasure
Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and spurres and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and out of it you'le runne againe, rather then suffer question for your residence
Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord
Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut: the soule of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in matter of heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know their natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better of you, then you haue or will to deserue at my hand, but we must do good against euill
Par. An idle Lord, I sweare
Ber. I thinke so
Par. Why do you not know him?Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speechGiues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.Enter Helena.
Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from youSpoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaueFor present parting, onely he desiresSome priuate speech with you
Ber. I shall obey his will.You must not meruaile Helen at my course,Which holds not colour with the time, nor doesThe ministration, and required officeOn my particular. Prepar'd I was notFor such a businesse, therefore am I foundSo much vnsetled: This driues me to intreate you,That presently you take your way for home,And rather muse then aske why I intreate you,For my respects are better then they seeme,And my appointments haue in them a needeGreater then shewes it selfe at the first view,To you that know them not. This to my mother,'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, soI leaue you to your wisedome
Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,But that I am your most obedient seruant
Ber. Come, come, no more of that
Hel. And euer shallWith true obseruance seeke to eeke out thatWherein toward me my homely starres haue faildTo equall my great fortune
Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell:Hie home
Hel. Pray sir your pardon
Ber. Well, what would you say?Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe,Nor dare I say 'tis mine: and yet it is,But like a timorous theefe, most faine would stealeWhat law does vouch mine owne
Ber. What would you haue?Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed,I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes,Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse
Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse
Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord:Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell.
Exit
Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come,Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme:Away, and for our flight
Par. Brauely, Coragio.
Actus Tertius.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with atroope ofSouldiers.
Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heardThe fundamentall reasons of this warre,Whose great decision hath much blood let forthAnd more thirsts after
1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull On the opposer
Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin FranceWould in so iust a businesse, shut his bosomeAgainst our borrowing prayers
French E. Good my Lord,The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde,But like a common and an outward man,That the great figure of a Counsaile frames,By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare notSay what I thinke of it, since I haue foundMy selfe in my incertaine grounds to faileAs often as I guest
Duke. Be it his pleasure
Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,That surfet on their ease, will day by dayCome heere for Physicke
Duke. Welcome shall they bee:And all the honors that can flye from vs,Shall on them settle: you know your places well,When better fall, for your auailes they fell,To morrow to'th the field.
Flourish.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, sauethat he comes not along with her
Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a veriemelancholly man
Count. By what obseruance I pray you
Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing: mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song
Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes to come
Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an old man loues money, with no stomacke
Lad. What haue we heere?Clo. In that you haue there.
Exit
A Letter.
I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne, Bertram. This is not well rash and vnbridled boy, To flye the fauours of so good a King, To plucke his indignation on thy head, By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous For the contempt of Empire. Enter Clowne.
Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene two souldiers, and my yong Ladie
La. What is the matter
Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght he would
La. Why should he be kill'd? Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your sonne was run away. Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.
French E. Saue you good Madam
Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone
French G. Do not say so
La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe,That the first face of neither on the startCan woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence,We met him thitherward, for thence we came:And after some dispatch in hand at Court,Thither we bend againe
Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport. When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie, that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then) I write a Neuer. This is a dreadfull sentence
La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorriefor our paines
Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine,Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,But I do wash his name out of my blood,And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?Fren.G. I Madam
La. And to be a souldier
Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu'tThe Duke will lay vpon him all the honorThat good conuenience claimes
La. Returne you thither
Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed
Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,'Tis bitter
La. Finde you that there?Hel. I Madame
Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, whichhis heart was not consenting too
Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:There's nothing heere that is too good for himBut onely she, and she deserues a LordThat twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon,And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him?Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which Ihaue sometime knowne
La. Parolles was it not?Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee
La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse,My sonne corrupts a well deriued natureWith his inducement
Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale ofthat, too much, which holds him much to haue
La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate you written to beare along
Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all yourworthiest affaires
La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies,Will you draw neere?Enter.
Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.Nothing in France vntill he has no wife:Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France,Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't IThat chase thee from thy Countrie, and exposeThose tender limbes of thine, to the euentOf the none-sparing warre? And is it I,That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thouWas't shot at with faire eyes, to be the markeOf smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aireThat sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.Who euer charges on his forward brestI am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,And though I kill him not, I am the causeHis death was so effected: Better 'twereI met the rauine Lyon when he roar'dWith sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,That all the miseries which nature owesWere mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre,As oft it looses all. I will be gone:My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, althoughThe ayre of Paradise did fan the house,And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,That pittifull rumour may report my flightTo consolate thine eare. Come night, end day,For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.Enter.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.
Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and weGreat in our hope, lay our best loue and credenceVpon thy promising fortune
Ber. Sir it isA charge too heauy for my strength, but yetWee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,To th' extreme edge of hazard
Duke. Then go thou forth,And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helmeAs thy auspicious mistris
Ber. This very dayGreat Mars I put my selfe into thy file,Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proueA louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
Exeunt. omnesEnter Countesse & Steward.
La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:Might you not know she would do, as she has done,By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.
Letter.
I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone:Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vponWith sainted vow my faults to haue amendedWrite, write, that from the bloodie course of warre,My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie,Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:His taken labours bid him me forgiue:I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue,Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.He is too good and faire for death, and mee,Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free.Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words?Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,I could haue well diuerted her intents,Which thus she hath preuented
Ste. Pardon me Madam,If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writesPursuite would be but vaine
La. What Angell shallBlesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heareAnd loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrathOf greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,To this vnworthy husband of his wife,Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,When haply he shall heare that she is gone,He will returne, and hope I may that sheeHearing so much, will speede her foote againe,Led hither by pure loue: which of them bothIs deerest to me, I haue no skill in senceTo make distinction: prouide this Messenger:My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.
Exeunt.
A Tucket afarre off.
Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and Mariana, with other Citizens.
Widdow. Nay come,For if they do approach the Citty,We shall loose all the sight
Diana. They say, the French Count has doneMost honourable seruice
Wid. It is reported,That he has taken their great'st Commander,And that with his owne hand he slewThe Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour,They are gone a contrarie way: harke,you may know by their Trumpets
Maria. Come lets returne againe,And suffice our selues with the report of it.Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle,The honor of a Maide is her name,And no Legacie is so richAs honestie
Widdow. I haue told my neighbourHow you haue beene solicited by a GentlemanHis Companion
Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles, a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace will keepe you where you are, though there were no further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so lost
Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.Enter Hellen.
Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I knowshe will lye at my house, thither they send one another,Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether arebound?Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand.Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port
Hel. Is this the way?
A march afarre.
Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way:If you will tarrie holy PilgrimeBut till the troopes come by,I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,The rather for I thinke I know your hostesseAs ample as my selfe
Hel. Is it your selfe?Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime
Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure
Wid. You came I thinke from France?Hel. I did so
Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yoursThat has done worthy seruice
Hel. His name I pray you?Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:His face I know not
Dia. What somere he isHe's brauely taken heere. He stole from FranceAs 'tis reported: for the King had married himAgainst his liking. Thinke you it is so?Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady
Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,Reports but coursely of her
Hel. What's his name?Dia. Monsieur Parrolles
Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,In argument of praise, or to the worthOf the great Count himselfe, she is too meaneTo haue her name repeated, all her deseruingIs a reserued honestie, and thatI haue not heard examin'd
Dian. Alas poore Ladie,'Tis a hard bondage to become the wifeOf a detesting Lord
Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do herA shrewd turne if she pleas'd
Hel. How do you meane?May be the amorous Count solicites herIn the vnlawfull purpose
Wid. He does indeede,And brokes with all that can in such a suiteCorrupt the tender honour of a Maide:But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guardIn honestest defence.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and thewholeArmie.
Mar. The goddes forbid else
Wid. So, now they come:That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,That Escalus
Hel. Which is the Frenchman?Dia. Hee,That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honesterHe were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom GentlemanHel. I like him well
Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaueThat leades him to these places: were I his Ladie,I would poison that vile Rascall
Hel. Which is he?Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is heemelancholly?Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile
Par. Loose our drum? Well
Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he has spyed vs
Wid. Marrie hang you
Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.Enter.
Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bringyou, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitentsThere's foure or fiue, to great S[aint]. Iaques bound,Alreadie at my house
Hel. I humbly thanke you:Please it this Matron, and this gentle MaideTo eate with vs to night, the charge and thankingShall be for me, and to requite you further,I will bestow some precepts of this Virgin,Worthy the note
Both. Wee'l take your offer kindly.
Exeunt.
Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.
Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let himhaue his way
Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,hold me no more in your respect
Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble
Ber. Do you thinke I am so farreDeceiued in him
Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speake of him as my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships entertainment
Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at some great and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayle you
Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him
Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake to do
C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowes not from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinke him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring him to our owne tents: be but your Lordship present at his examination, if he do not for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base feare, offer to betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his soule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie thing
Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his drumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your Lordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and to what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement, your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes. Enter Parrolles.
Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any hand
Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely in your disposition
Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme
Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so lost. There was excellent command, to charge in with our horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne souldiers
Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that Cæsar him selfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to command
Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe: some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum, but it is not to be recouered
Par. It might haue beene recouered
Ber. It might, but it is not now
Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer, I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet
Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if you thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring this instrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, be magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in it, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost syllable of your worthinesse
Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it
Ber. But you must not now slumber in it
Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my certaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation: and by midnight looke to heare further from me
Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you aregone about it
Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,but the attempt I vow
Ber. I know th'art valiant,And to the possibility of thy souldiership,Will subscribe for thee: Farewell
Par. I loue not many words.
Exit
Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this a strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes to vndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to be done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damnd then to doo't
Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe, certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour, and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries, but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after
Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at all of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe vnto? Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention, and clap vpon you two or three probable lies: but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall to night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect
Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe ere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old Lord Lafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie night
Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,He shall be caught
Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me
Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you
Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew youThe Lasse I spoke of
Cap.E. But you say she's honest
Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once,And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to herBy this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th windeTokens and Letters, which she did resend,And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature,Will you go see her?Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter Hellen, and Widdow.
Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee,I know not how I shall assure you further,But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon
Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne,Nothing acquainted with these businesses,And would not put my reputation nowIn any staining act
Hel. Nor would I wish you.First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,Is so from word to word: and then you cannotBy the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,Erre in bestowing it
Wid. I should beleeue you,For you haue shew'd me that which well approuesY'are great in fortune
Hel. Take this purse of Gold,And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againeWhen I haue found it. The Count he woes yourdaughter,Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consentAs wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:Now his important blood will naught denie,That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares,That downward hath succeeded in his houseFrom sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holdsIn most rich choice: yet in his idle fire,To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere,How ere repented after
Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose
Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,Her selfe most chastly absent: afterTo marry her, Ile adde three thousand CrownesTo what is past already
Wid. I haue yeelded:Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,That time and place with this deceite so lawfullMay proue coherent. Euery night he comesWith Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'dTo her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vsTo chide him from our eeues, for he persistsAs if his life lay on't
Hel. Why then to nightLet vs assay our plot, which if it speed,Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede;And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact.But let's about it.
Actus Quartus.
Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in ambush.
Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce for an Interpreter
1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter
Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he notthy voice?1.Sol. No sir I warrant you
Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vsagaine
1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me
Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear the lies he forges. Enter Parrolles.
Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue
Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue was guiltie of
Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say, came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these perilles
Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, andbe that he is
Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold seruethe turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword
Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so
Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem
Lo.E. 'Twould not do
Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript
Lo.E. Hardly serue
Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of theCitadell
Lo.E. How deepe?Par. Thirty fadome
Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that bebeleeued
Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, Iwould sweare I recouer'd it
Lo.E. You shall heare one anon
Par. A drumme now of the enemies.
Alarum within.
Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo
All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo
Par. O ransome, ransome,Do not hide mine eyes
Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos
Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment,And I shall loose my life for want of language.If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,Italian, or French, let him speake to me,Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine
Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome
Par. Oh
Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,Manka reuania dulche
Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco
Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet,And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee onTo gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informeSomething to saue thy life
Par. O let me liue,And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew,Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that,Which you will wonder at
Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?Par. If I do not, damne me
Inter. Acordo linta.Come on, thou are granted space.
Exit
A short Alarum within.
L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother,We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufledTill we do heare from them
Sol. Captaine I will
L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues,Informe on that
Sol. So I will sir
L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.
Exit
Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.
Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell
Dia. No my good Lord, Diana
Ber. Titled Goddesse,And worth it with addition: but faire soule,In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie?If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde,You are no Maiden but a monumentWhen you are dead you should be such a oneAs you are now: for you are cold and sterne,And now you should be as your mother wasWhen your sweet selfe was got
Dia. She then was honest
Ber. So should you be
Dia. No:My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)As you owe to your wife
Ber. No more a'that:I prethee do not striue against my vowes:I was compell'd to her, but I loue theeBy loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euerDo thee all rights of seruice
Dia. I so you serue vsTill we serue you: But when you haue our Roses,You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues,And mocke vs with our barenesse
Ber. How haue I sworne
Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth,But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true:What is not holie, that we sweare not by,But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me,If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes,I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes,When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holdingTo sweare by him whom I protest to loueThat I will worke against him. Therefore your oathesAre words and poore conditions, but vnseal'dAt lest in my opinion
Ber. Change it, change it:Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie,And my integritie ne're knew the craftsThat you do charge men with: Stand no more off,But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires,Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euerMy loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer
Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre,That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring
Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no powerTo giue it from me
Dia. Will you not my Lord?Ber. It is an honour longing to our house,Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors,Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,In me to loose
Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring,My chastities the Iewell of our house,Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors,Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedomeBrings in the Champion honor on my part,Against your vaine assault
Ber. Heere, take my Ring,My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine,And Ile be bid by thee
Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamberwindow:Ile order take, my mother shall not heare.Now will I charge you in the band of truth,When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee:My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd:And on your finger in the night, Ile putAnother Ring, that what in time proceeds,May token to the future, our past deeds.Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonneA wife of me, though there my hope be done
Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee
Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me,You may so in the end.My mother told me iust how he would woo,As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all menHaue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie meWhen his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with himWhen I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide,Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid:Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne,To cosen him that would vniustly winne.
Exit
Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.
Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter
Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man
Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady
Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you
Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am the graue of it
Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe made in the vnchaste composition
Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our selues, what things are we
Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe
Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue his company to night? Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to his houre
Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit
Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come;for his presence must be the whip of the other
Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of theseWarres?Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace
Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded
Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will hetrauaile higher, or returne againe into France?Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogetherof his councell
Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a greatdeale of his act
Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing, the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now she sings in heauen
Cap.E. How is this iustified? Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters, which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place
Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, pointfrom point, to the full arming of the veritie
Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde ofthis
Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comfortsof our losses
Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred with a shame as ample
Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne, good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire if they were not cherish'd by our vertues. Enter a Messenger.
How now? Where's your master? Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters of commendations to the King
Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there, if they were more then they can commend. Enter Count Rossillion.
Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse, heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord, i'st not after midnight? Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, & betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue not ended yet
Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your Lordship
Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a double-meaning Prophesier
Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night poore gallant knaue
Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe? Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes: and what thinke you he hath confest? Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a? Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you are, you must haue the patience to heare it. Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.
Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing of me: hush, hush
Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa
Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you saywithout em
Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint,If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more
Int. Bosko Chimurcho
Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco
Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note
Par. And truly, as I hope to liue
Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke is strong. What say you to that? Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable: the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to liue
Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & whichway you will: all's one to him
Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this? Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounsieur Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his owne phrase that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger
Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping his sword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly
Int. Well, that's set downe
Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true, or thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth
Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this
Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he deliuers it
Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say
Int. Well, that's set downe
Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, theRogues are maruailous poore
Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a foot. What say you to that? Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present houre, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred & fiftie, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster file, rotten and sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene thousand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake the snow from off their Cassockes, least they shake themselues to peeces
Ber. What shall be done to him?Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demandof him my condition: and what credite I haue with theDuke
Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or whether he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing summes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you to this? What do you know of it? Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them singly
Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine? Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the Shrieues fool with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him nay
Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though Iknow his braines are forfeite to the next tile that fals
Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florencescampe?Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie
Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare ofyour Lord anon
Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a pooreOfficer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turnehim out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket
Int. Marry we'll search
Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there, or it is vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my Tent
Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?Par. I do not know if it be it or no
Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well
Cap.G. Excellently
Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold
Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to take heede of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you sir put it vp againe
Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour
Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the behalfe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lasciuious boy, who is a whale to Virginity, and deuours vp all the fry it finds
Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue
Int.
Let.
When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, andtake it:After he scores, he neuer payes the score:Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it,He nere payes after-debts, take it before,And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this:Men are to mell with, boyes are not to kis.For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,Who payes before, but not when he does owe it.Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine eare,Parolles
Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with thisrime in's forehead
Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifoldLinguist, and the army-potent souldier
Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, andnow he's a Cat to me
Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shallbe faine to hang you
Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue sir in a dungeon, i'th stockes, or any where, so I may liue
Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse freely: therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine: you haue answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honestie? Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for rapes and rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is stronger then Hercules. He will lye sir, with such volubilitie, that you would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is his best vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he does little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him: but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I haue but little more to say sir of his honesty, he ha's euerie thing that an honest man should not haue; what an honest man should haue, he has nothing
Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this
Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat
Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre? Par. Faith sir, ha's led the drumme before the English Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his souldiership I know not, except in that Country, he had the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files. I would doe the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine
Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the raritie redeemes him
Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still
Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt
Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of his saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from all remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually
Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain? Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me? Int. What's he? Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so great as the first in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreate hee outrunnes any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the Crampe
Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray the Florentine
Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion
Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his pleasure
Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes, onely to seeme to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition of that lasciuious yong boy the Count, haue I run into this danger: yet who would haue suspected an ambush where I was taken? Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the Generall sayes, you that haue so traitorously discouerd the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports of men very nobly held, can serue the world for no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman, off with his head
Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death
Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all yourfriends:So, looke about you, know you any heere?Count. Good morrow noble Captaine
Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles
Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine
Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my LordLafew? I am for France
Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfe of the Count Rossillion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'de compell it of you, but far you well.
Exeunt.
Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe, that has a knot on't yet
Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot? Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but women were that had receiued so much shame, you might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I am for France too, we shall speake of you there.
Exit
Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great'Twould burst at this: Captaine Ile be no more,But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe as softAs Captaine shall. Simply the thing I amShall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggartLet him feare this; for it will come to passe,That euery braggart shall be found an Asse.Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liueSafest in shame: being fool'd, by fool'rie thriue;There's place and meanes for euery man aliue.Ile after them.Enter.
Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.
Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue notwrong'd you,One of the greatest in the Christian worldShall be my suretie: for whose throne 'tis needfullEre I can perfect mine intents, to kneele.Time was, I did him a desired officeDeere almost as his life, which gratitudeThrough flintie Tartars bosome would peepe forth,And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd,His grace is at Marcellae, to which placeWe haue conuenient conuoy: you must knowI am supposed dead, the Army breaking,My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding,And by the leaue of my good Lord the King,Wee'l be before our welcome
Wid. Gentle Madam,You neuer had a seruant to whose trustYour busines was more welcome
Hel. Nor your MistrisEuer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labourTo recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauenHath brought me vp to be your daughters dower,As it hath fated her to be my motiueAnd helper to a husband. But O strange men,That can such sweet vse make of what they hate,When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughtsDefiles the pitchy night, so lust doth playWith what it loathes, for that which is away,But more of this heereafter: you Diana,Vnder my poore instructions yet must sufferSomething in my behalfe
Dia. Let death and honestieGo with your impositions, I am yoursVpon your will to suffer
Hel. Yet I pray you:But with the word the time will bring on summer,When Briars shall haue leaues as well as thornes,And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away,Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs,All's well that ends well, still the fines the Crowne;What ere the course, the end is the renowne.
Exeunt.
Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.
Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron wold haue made all the vnbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue at this houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak of
La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death of the most vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother, I could not haue owed her a more rooted loue