Hor. Why so this gallant will command the sunne.Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drest like Vincentio.
Tra. Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call
Ped. I what else, and but I be deceiued,Signior Baptista may remember meNeere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa
Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,Tis well, and hold your owne in any caseWith such austeritie as longeth to a father.Enter Biondello.
Ped. I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy,'Twere good he were school'd
Tra. Feare you not him: sirra Biondello,Now doe your dutie throughlie I aduise you:Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio
Bion. Tut, feare not me
Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista
Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice,And that you look't for him this day in Padua,Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drinke,Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir.Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted and bare headed.
Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met:Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,I pray you stand good father to me now,Giue me Bianca for my patrimony
Ped. Soft son: sir by your leaue, hauing com to PaduaTo gather in some debts, my son LucentioMade me acquainted with a waighty causeOf loue betweene your daughter and himselfe:And for the good report I heare of you,And for the loue he beareth to your daughter,And she to him: to stay him not too long,I am content in a good fathers careTo haue him matcht, and if you please to likeNo worse then I, vpon some agreementMe shall you finde readie and willingWith one consent to haue her so bestowed:For curious I cannot be with youSignior Baptista, of whom I heare so well
Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say,Your plainnesse and your shortnesse please me well:Right true it is your sonne Lucentio hereDoth loue my daughter, and she loueth him,Or both dissemble deepely their affections:And therefore if you say no more then this,That like a Father you will deale with him,And passe my daughter a sufficient dower,The match is made, and all is done,Your sonne shall haue my daughter with consent
Tra. I thanke you sir, where then doe you know bestWe be affied and such assurance tane,As shall with either parts agreement stand
Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you knowPitchers haue eares, and I haue manie seruants,Besides old Gremio is harkning still,And happilie we might be interrupted
Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you,There doth my father lie: and there this nightWeele passe the businesse priuately and well:Send for your daughter by your seruant here,My Boy shall fetch the Scriuener presentlie,The worst is this that at so slender warning,You are like to haue a thin and slender pittance
Bap. It likes me well:Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readiestraight:And if you will tell what hath hapned,Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,And how she's like to be Lucentios wife
Biond. I praie the gods she may withall my heart.Enter.
Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone.Enter Peter.
Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,Welcome, one messe is like to be your cheere,Come sir, we will better it in Pisa
Bap. I follow you.
Exeunt.
Enter Lucentio and Biondello.
Bion. Cambio
Luc. What saist thou Biondello
Biond. You saw my Master winke and laugh vponyou?Luc. Biondello, what of that?Biond. Faith nothing: but has left mee here behindeto expound the meaning or morrall of his signes and tokens
Luc. I pray thee moralize them
Biond. Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with thedeceiuing Father of a deceitfull sonne
Luc. And what of him?Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to thesupper
Luc. And then
Bio. The old Priest at Saint Lukes Church is at your command at all houres
Luc. And what of all this
Bion. I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum preuilegio ad Impremendum solem, to th' Church take the Priest, Clarke, and some sufficient honest witnesses: If this be not that you looke for, I haue no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day
Luc. Hear'st thou Biondello
Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench maried in an afternoone as shee went to the Garden for Parseley to stuffe a Rabit, and so may you sir: and so adew sir, my Master hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes to bid the Priest be readie to come against you come with your appendix. Enter.
Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented:She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt:Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about her:It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her.Enter.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio
Petr. Come on a Gods name, once more toward ourfathers:Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moone
Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelightnow
Pet. I say it is the Moone that shines so bright
Kate. I know it is the Sunne that shines so bright
Pet. Now by my mothers sonne, and that's my selfe,It shall be moone, or starre, or what I list,Or ere I iourney to your Fathers house:Goe on, and fetch our horses backe againe,Euermore crost and crost, nothing but crost
Hort. Say as he saies, or we shall neuer goe
Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come so farre,And be it moone, or sunne, or what you please:And if you please to call it a rush Candle,Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me
Petr. I say it is the Moone
Kate. I know it is the Moone
Petr. Nay then you lye: it is the blessed Sunne
Kate. Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun,But sunne it is not, when you say it is not,And the Moone changes euen as your minde:What you will haue it nam'd, euen that it is,And so it shall be so for Katherine
Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won
Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should run,And not vnluckily against the Bias:But soft, Company is comming here.Enter Vincentio.
Good morrow gentle Mistris, where away:Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too,Hast thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman:Such warre of white and red within her cheekes:What stars do spangle heauen with such beautie,As those two eyes become that heauenly face?Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee:Sweete Kate embrace her for her beauties sake
Hort. A will make the man mad to make the womanof him
Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh, & sweet,Whether away, or whether is thy aboade?Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;Happier the man whom fauourable starsA lots thee for his louely bedfellow
Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,This is a man old, wrinckled, faded, withered,And not a Maiden, as thou saist he is
Kate. Pardon old father my mistaking eies,That haue bin so bedazled with the sunne,That euery thing I looke on seemeth greene:Now I perceiue thou art a reuerent Father:Pardon I pray thee for my mad mistaking
Petr. Do good old grandsire, & withall make knownWhich way thou trauellest, if along with vs,We shall be ioyfull of thy companie
Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris,That with your strange encounter much amasde me:My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,And bound I am to Padua, there to visiteA sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene
Petr. What is his name?Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir
Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne:And now by Law, as well as reuerent age,I may intitle thee my louing Father,The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman,Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not,Nor be not grieued, she is of good esteeme,Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth;Beside, so qualified, as may beseemeThe Spouse of any noble Gentleman:Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,And wander we to see thy honest sonne,Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous
Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,Like pleasant trauailors to breake a IestVpon the companie you ouertake?Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is
Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof,For our first merriment hath made thee iealous.
Exeunt.
Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;Haue to my Widdow, and if she froward,Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward.Enter.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio is out before.
Biond. Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready
Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede thee at home, therefore leaue vs. Enter.
Biond. Nay faith, Ile see the Church a your backe,and then come backe to my mistris as soone as I can
Gre. I maruaile Cambio comes not all this while.Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio with Attendants.
Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentios house,My Fathers beares more toward the Market-place,Thither must I, and here I leaue you sir
Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go,I thinke I shall command your welcome here;And by all likelihood some cheere is toward.
Knock.
Grem. They're busie within, you were best knocke lowder.
Pedant lookes out of the window.
Ped. What's he that knockes as he would beat downethe gate?Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within sir?Ped. He's within sir, but not to be spoken withall
Vinc. What if a man bring him a hundred pound ortwo to make merrie withall
Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, heeshall neede none so long as I liue
Petr. Nay, I told you your sonne was well beloued in Padua: doe you heare sir, to leaue friuolous circumstances, I pray you tell signior Lucentio that his Father is come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to speake with him
Ped. Thou liest his Father is come from Padua, andhere looking out at the window
Vin. Art thou his father?Ped. I sir, so his mother saies, if I may beleeue her
Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat knauerieto take vpon you another mans name
Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meanes to cosen some bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance. Enter Biondello.
Bio. I haue seene them in the Church together, God send 'em good shipping: but who is here? mine old Master Vincentio: now wee are vndone and brought to nothing
Vin. Come hither crackhempe
Bion. I hope I may choose Sir
Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you forgotmee?Biond. Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, forI neuer saw you before in all my life
Vinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuersee thy Mistris father, Vincentio?Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yesmarie sir see where he lookes out of the window
Vin. Ist so indeede.
He beates Biondello.
Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will murder me
Pedan. Helpe, sonne, helpe signior Baptista
Petr. Preethe Kate let's stand aside and see the end ofthis controuersie.Enter Pedant with seruants, Baptista, Tranio.
Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my seruant? Vinc. What am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immortall Goddes: oh fine villaine, a silken doublet, a veluet hose, a scarlet cloake, and a copataine hat: oh I am vndone, I am vndone: while I plaie the good husband at home, my sonne and my seruant spend all at the vniuersitie
Tra. How now, what's the matter?Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?Tra. Sir, you seeme a sober ancient Gentleman byyour habit: but your words shew you a mad man: whysir, what cernes it you, if I weare Pearle and gold: I thankmy good Father, I am able to maintaine it
Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker inBergamo
Bap. You mistake sir, you mistake sir, praie what do you thinke is his name? Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue brought him vp euer since he was three yeeres old, and his name is Tronio
Ped. Awaie, awaie mad asse, his name is Lucentio, and he is mine onelie sonne and heire to the Lands of me signior Vincentio
Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Master; laie hold on him I charge you in the Dukes name: oh my sonne, my sonne: tell me thou villaine, where is my son Lucentio? Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to the Iaile: father Baptista, I charge you see that hee be forth comming
Vinc. Carrie me to the Iaile?Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prison
Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I saie he shall goe toprison
Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, least you be conicatcht in this businesse: I dare sweare this is the right Vincentio
Ped. Sweare if thou dar'st
Gre. Naie, I dare not sweare it
Tran. Then thou wert best saie that I am not Lucentio
Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio
Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Iaile with him.Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianeu.
Vin. Thus strangers may be haild and abusd: oh monstrousvillaine
Bion. Oh we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him,forsweare him, or else we are all vndone.
Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be.
Luc. Pardon sweete father.
Kneele.
Vin. Liues my sweete sonne?Bian. Pardon deere father
Bap. How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?Luc. Here's Lucentio, right sonne to the right Vincentio,That haue by marriage made thy daughter mine,While counterfeit supposes bleer'd thine eine
Gre. Here's packing with a witnesse to deceiue vs all
Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio,That fac'd and braued me in this matter so?Bap. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio
Luc. Loue wrought these miracles. Biancas loueMade me exchange my state with Tranio,While he did beare my countenance in the towne,And happilie I haue arriued at the lastVnto the wished hauen of my blisse:What Tranio did, my selfe enforst him to;Then pardon him sweete Father for my sake
Vin. Ile slit the villaines nose that would haue sentme to the Iaile
Bap. But doe you heare sir, haue you married my daughter without asking my good will? Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to: but I will in to be reueng'd for this villanie. Enter.
Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knauerie.Enter.
Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.
Exeunt.
Gre. My cake is dough, but Ile in among the rest,Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast
Kate. Husband let's follow, to see the end of this adoe
Petr. First kisse me Kate, and we will
Kate. What in the midst of the streete?Petr. What art thou asham'd of me?Kate. No sir, God forbid, but asham'd to kisse
Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let'sawaie
Kate. Nay, I will giue thee a kisse, now praie theeLoue staie
Petr. Is not this well? come my sweete Kate.Better once then neuer, for neuer to late.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, andBianca.Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widdow: The Seruingmen withTranio bringingin a Banquet.
Luc. At last, though long, our iarring notes agree,And time it is when raging warre is come,To smile at scapes and perils ouerblowne:My faire Bianca bid my father welcome,While I with selfesame kindnesse welcome thine:Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina,And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow:Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,My Banket is to close our stomakes vpAfter our great good cheere: praie you sit downe,For now we sit to chat as well as eate
Petr. Nothing but sit and sit, and eate and eate
Bap. Padua affords this kindnesse, sonne Petruchio
Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde
Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true
Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow
Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard
Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse mysence:I meane Hortentio is afeard of you
Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round
Petr. Roundlie replied
Kat. Mistris, how meane you that?Wid. Thus I conceiue by him
Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale
Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that goodWiddow
Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round,I praie you tell me what you meant by that
Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew,Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe:And now you know my meaning
Kate. A verie meane meaning
Wid. Right, I meane you
Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you
Petr. To her Kate
Hor. To her Widdow
Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down
Hor. That's my officePetr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.
Drinkes to Hortentio.
Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well
Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie,Would say your Head and But were head and horne
Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe
Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun:Haue at you for a better iest or too
Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush,And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.You are welcome all.
Exit Bianca.
Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio,This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not,Therefore a health to all that shot and mist
Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound,Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master
Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish
Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe:'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie
Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now
Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio
Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse:And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me,'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right
Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio,I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all
Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance,Let's each one send vnto his wife,And he whose wife is most obedient,To come at first when he doth send for her,Shall win the wager which we will propose
Hort. Content, what's the wager?Luc. Twentie crownes
Petr. Twentie crownes,Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound,But twentie times so much vpon my Wife
Luc. A hundred then
Hor. Content
Petr. A match, 'tis done
Hor. Who shall begin?Luc. That will I.Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me
Bio. I goe.Enter.
Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes
Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe.Enter Biondello.
How now, what newes?Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you wordThat she is busie, and she cannot come
Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is thatan answere?Gre. I, and a kinde one too:Praie God sir your wife send you not a worse
Petr. I hope better
Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to come to me forthwith.
Exit. Bion.
Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needescome
Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you canEnter Biondello.
Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?Bion. She saies you haue some goodly Iest in hand,She will not come: she bids you come to her
Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come:Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd:Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris,Say I command her come to me.Enter.
Hor. I know her answere
Pet. What?Hor. She will not
Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.Enter Katerina.
Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina
Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me?Petr. Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife?Kate. They sit conferring by the Parler fire
Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come,Swinge me them soundly forth vnto their husbands:Away I say, and bring them hither straight
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder
Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads
Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life,An awfull rule, and right supremicie:And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie
Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio;The wager thou hast won, and I will addeVnto their losses twentie thousand crownes,Another dowrie to another daughter,For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin
Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,And show more signe of her obedience,Her new built vertue and obedience.Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.
See where she comes, and brings your froward WiuesAs prisoners to her womanlie perswasion:Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,Off with that bable, throw it vnderfoote
Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cause to sigh,Till I be brought to such a sillie passe
Bian. Fie what a foolish dutie call you this?Luc. I would your dutie were as foolish too:The wisdome of your dutie faire Bianca,Hath cost me fiue hundred crownes since supper time
Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie
Pet. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strongwomen, what dutie they doe owe their Lords and husbands
Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will haue notelling
Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her
Wid. She shall not
Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her
Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that threatning vnkinde brow,And dart not scornefull glances from those eies,To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour.It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds,And in no sence is meete or amiable.A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled,Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie,And while it is so, none so dry or thirstieWill daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it.Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper,Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for thee,And for thy maintenance. Commits his bodyTo painfull labour, both by sea and land:To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold,Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe,And craues no other tribute at thy hands,But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience;Too little payment for so great a debt.Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince,Euen such a woman oweth to her husband:And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre,And not obedient to his honest will,What is she but a foule contending Rebell,And gracelesse Traitor to her louing Lord?I am asham'd that women are so simple,To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace:Or seeke for rule, supremacie, and sway,When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay.Why are our bodies soft, and weake, and smooth,Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,But that our soft conditions, and our harts,Should well agree with our externall parts?Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes,My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours,My heart as great, my reason haplie more,To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne;But now I see our Launces are but strawes:Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past compare,That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.Then vale your stomackes, for it is no boote,And place your hands below your husbands foote:In token of which dutie, if he please,My hand is readie, may it do him ease
Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse meeKate
Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't
Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,Pet. Come Kate, wee'le to bed,We three are married, but you two are sped.'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white,And being a winner, God giue you good night.
Exit Petruchio
Horten. Now goe thy wayes, thou hast tam'd a curstShrow
Luc. Tis a wonder, by your leaue, she wil be tam'd so.
FINIS. THE Taming of the Shrew.
All's Well, that Ends Well
Actus primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena,LordLafew, all in blacke.
Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a secondhusband
Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore in subiection
Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame, you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack it where there is such abundance
Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment? Laf. He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely the loosing of hope by time
Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue made nature immortall, and death should haue play for lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing, I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease
Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?Mo. He was famous sir in his profession, and it washis great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon
Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could be set vp against mortallitie
Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishesof?Laf. A Fistula my Lord
Ros. I heard not of it before
Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon? Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries vertuous qualities, there commendations go with pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie, and atcheeues her goodnesse
Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her teares
Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then to haue- Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too
Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing
Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excessemakes it soone mortall
Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes
Laf. How vnderstand we that?Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy fatherIn manners as in shape: thy blood and vertueContend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesseShare with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemieRather in power then vse: and keepe thy friendVnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my LordAduise him
Laf. He cannot want the bestThat shall attend his loue
Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram
Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts be seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your Mistris, and make much of her
Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the creditof your father
Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,And these great teares grace his remembrance moreThen those I shed for him. What was he like?I haue forgott him. My imaginationCarries no fauour in't but Bertrams.I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,That I should loue a bright particuler starre,And think to wed it, he is so aboue meIn his bright radience and colaterall light,Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:The hind that would be mated by the LionMust die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plagueTo see him euerie houre to sit and drawHis arched browes, his hawking eie, his curlesIn our hearts table: heart too capeableOf euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancieMust sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?Enter Parrolles.
One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,And yet I know him a notorious Liar,Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,That they take place, when Vertues steely bonesLookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we seeCold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie
Par. Saue you faire Queene
Hel. And you Monarch
Par. No
Hel. And no
Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?Hel. I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Letmee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,how may we barracado it against him?Par. Keepe him out
Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like resistance
Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you, will vndermine you, and blow you vp
Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins might blow vp men? Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe againe, with the breach your selues made, you lose your Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is rationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till virginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost, may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't
Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a Virgin
Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is to accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like a Cheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and so dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which is the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not, you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: within ten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase, and the principall it selfe not much the worse. Away with't
Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne liking? Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying: The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie like an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick, which were not now: your Date is better in your Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet: There shall your Master haue a thousand loues, A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend, A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy, A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne, A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare: His humble ambition, proud humility: His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet: His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he: I know not what he shall, God send him well, The Courts a learning place, and he is one
Par. What one ifaith?Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty
Par. What's pitty?Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,Might with effects of them follow our friends,And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuerReturnes vs thankes.Enter Page.
Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,My Lord cals for you
Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, Iwill thinke of thee at Court
Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder acharitable starre
Par. Vnder Mars I
Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars
Par. Why vnder Mars?Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that youmust needes be borne vnder Mars
Par. When he was predominant
Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather
Par. Why thinke you so?Hel. You go so much backward when you fight
Par. That's for aduantage
Hel. So is running away, When feare proposes the safetie: But the composition that your valour and feare makes in you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like the weare well
Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the which my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou diest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes thee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thy praiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends: Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee: So farewell
Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skyeGiues vs free scope, onely doth backward pullOur slow designes, when we our selues are dull.What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?The mightiest space in fortune, Nature bringsTo ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.Impossible be strange attempts to thoseThat weigh their paines in sence, and do supposeWhat hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroueTo shew her merit, that did misse her loue?(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.
Exit
Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuersAttendants.
King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,Haue fought with equall fortune, and continueA brauing warre
1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir
King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,With caution, that the Florentine will moue vsFor speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friendPreiudicates the businesse, and would seemeTo haue vs make deniall
1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade For amplest credence
King. He hath arm'd our answer,And Florence is deni'de before he comes:Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to seeThe Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaueTo stand on either part
2.Lo.E. It well may serue A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke For breathing, and exploit
King. What's he comes heere.Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.
1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,Yong Bertram
King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,Franke Nature rather curious then in hastHath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall partsMaist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris
Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties
Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendshipFirst tride our souldiership: he did looke farreInto the seruice of the time, and wasDiscipled of the brauest. He lasted long,But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,And wore vs out of act: It much repaires meTo talke of your good father; in his youthHe had the wit, which I can well obserueTo day in our yong Lords: but they may iestTill their owne scorne returne to them vnnotedEre they can hide their leuitie in honour:So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesseWere in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,His equall had awak'd them, and his honourClocke to it selfe, knew the true minute whenException bid him speake: and at this timeHis tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,He vs'd as creatures of another place,And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,Making them proud of his humilitie,In their poore praise he humbled: Such a manMight be a copie to these yonger times;Which followed well, would demonstrate them nowBut goers backward
Ber. His good remembrance sirLies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,As in your royall speech
King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say,(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue wordsHe scatter'd not in eares, but grafted themTo grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,This his good melancholly oft beganOn the Catastrophe and heele of pastimeWhen it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffeOf yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue sensesAll but new things disdaine; whose iudgements areMeere fathers of their garments: whose constanciesExpire before their fashions: this he wish'd.I after him, do after him wish too:Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,I quickly were dissolued from my hiueTo giue some Labourers roome
2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first
Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist CountSince the Physitian at your fathers died?He was much fam'd
Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord
Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me outWith seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesseDebate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,My sonne's no deerer
Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.
Exit
Flourish.
Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.
Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman
Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content, I wish might be found in the Kalender of my past endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selues we publish them
Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue, 'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know you lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough to make such knaueries yours
Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore fellow
Coun. Well sir
Clo. No maddam, 'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships good will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and I will doe as we may
Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case
Cou. In what case?Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage,and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings
Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuenon by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuelldriues
Cou. Is this all your worships reason?Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such asthey are
Cou. May the world know them?Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as youand all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie thatI may repent
Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse
Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue friends for my wiues sake
Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue
Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of: he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend: if men could be contented to be what they are, there were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the Puritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere their hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one, they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd
Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious knaue? Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full true shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, your Cuckow sings by kinde
Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon
Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellencome to you, of her I am to speake
Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake withher, Hellen I meane
Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,Why the Grecians sacked Troy,Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,With that she sighed as she stood,
bis
And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one good in ten
Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song sirra
Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying ath' song: would God would serue the world so all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one
Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command you? Clo. That man should be at womans command, and yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither. Enter.
Cou. Well now
Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman intirely
Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee, and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid her then sheele demand
Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then I thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and did communicate to her selfe her owne words to her owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they toucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee loued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins, that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'd without rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward: This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held my dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence in the losse that may happen, it concernes you something to know it
Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke you for your honest care: I will speake with you further anon.
Exit Steward.
Enter Hellen.
Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorneDoth to our Rose of youth rightlie belongOur bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,It is the show, and seale of natures truth,Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,By our remembrances of daies forgon,Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now
Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you
Hell. Mine honorable Mistris
Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when Ised a motherMe thought you saw a serpent, what's in mother,That you start at it? I say I am your mother,And put you in the Catalogue of thoseThat were enwombed mine, 'tis often seeneAdoption striues with nature, and choise breedesA natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy bloodTo say I am thy mother? what's the matter,That this distempered messenger of wet?The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are mydaughter?Hell. That I am not
Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother
Hell. Pardon Madam.The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:I am from humble, he from honored name:No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,My Master, my deere Lord he is, and IHis seruant liue, and will his vassall die:He must not be my brother
Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother
Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you wereSo that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,So I were not his sister, cant no other,But I your daughter, he must be my brother
Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,God shield you meane it not, daughter and motherSo striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I seeThe mistrie of your louelinesse, and findeYour salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'dAgainst the proclamation of thy passionTo say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekesConfesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eiesSee it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinneAnd hellish obstinacie tye thy tongueThat truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaileTo tell me truelie
Hell. Good Madam pardon me
Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris
Cou. Loue you my Sonne?Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bondWhereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:The state of your affection, for your passionsHaue to the full appeach'd
Hell. Then I confesseHere on my knee, before high heauen and you,That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue yourSonne:My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:Be not offended, for it hurts not himThat he is lou'd of me; I follow him notBy any token of presumptuous suite,Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,Yet neuer know how that desert should be:I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.I still poure in the waters of my loueAnd lacke not to loose still; thus Indian likeReligious in mine error, I adoreThe Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,Let not your hate incounter with my loue,For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your DianWas both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittieTo her whose state is such, that cannot chooseBut lend and giue where she is sure to loose;That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies
Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,To goe to Paris?Hell. Madam I had
Cou. Wherefore? tell true
Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:You know my Father left me some prescriptionsOf rare and prou'd effects, such as his readingAnd manifest experience, had collectedFor generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd meIn heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,To cure the desperate languishings whereofThe King is render'd lost
Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?Hell. My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,Happily beene absent then
Cou. But thinke you Hellen,If you should tender your supposed aide,He would receiue it? He and his PhisitionsAre of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they creditA poore vnlearned Virgin, when the SchoolesEmbowel'd of their doctrine, haue left offThe danger to it selfe
Hell. There's something in'tMore then my Fathers skill, which was the great'stOf his profession, that his good receipt,Shall for my legacie be sanctifiedByth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honorBut giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de ventureThe well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,By such a day, an houre
Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?Hell. I Madam knowingly
Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetingsTo those of mine in Court, Ile staie at homeAnd praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the Florentine warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.
King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principlesDoe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell:Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, allThe guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd,And is enough for both
Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,After well entred souldiers, to returneAnd finde your grace in health
King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heartWill not confesse he owes the malladyThat doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords,Whether I liue or die, be you the sonnesOf worthy French men: let higher Italy(Those bated that inherit but the fallOf the last Monarchy) see that you comeNot to wooe honour, but to wed it, whenThe brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke,That fame may cry you loud: I say farewell
L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty
King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,They say our French, lacke language to denyIf they demand: beware of being CaptiuesBefore you serue
Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings
King. Farewell, come hether to me
1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs
Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark
2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres
Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres
Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early
Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,Steale away brauely
Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke,Creeking my shooes on the plaine Masonry,Till honour be bought vp, and no sword worneBut one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away
1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft
Parr. Commit it Count
2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell
Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body
1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine
2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles
Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne, good sparkes and lustrous, a word good mettals. You shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it: say to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me
Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine
Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what willye doe?Ross. Stay the King
Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble Lords, you haue restrain'd your selfe within the List of too cold an adieu: be more expressiue to them; for they weare themselues in the cap of the time, there do muster true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell
Ross. And I will doe so
Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie sword-men.
Exeunt.
Enter Lafew.
L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings
King. Ile see thee to stand vp
L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon,I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,And that at my bidding you could so stand vp
King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pateAnd askt thee mercy for't
Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?King. No
Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and ifMy royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicineThat's able to breath life into a stone,Quicken a rocke, and make you dance CanariWith sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touchIs powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nayTo giue great Charlemaine a pen in's handAnd write to her a loue-line
King. What her is this?Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,If you will see her: now by my faith and honour,If seriously I may conuay my thoughtsIn this my light deliuerance, I haue spokeWith one, that in her sexe, her yeeres, profession,Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee moreThen I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her?For that is her demand, and know her businesse?That done, laugh well at me
King. Now good Lafew,Bring in the admiration, that we with theeMay spend our wonder too, or take off thineBy wondring how thou tookst it
Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,And not be all day neither
King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues
Laf. Nay, come your waies.Enter Hellen.