1 Sold. You are undone, captain; all but your scarf, that has a knot on't yet. Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot? T 1 Sold. If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, sir; I am for France too; we shali speak of you there. [Exit. Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, "Twould burst at this: Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall: simply the thing I am [Exit. SCENE IV. FLORENCE, A ROOM IN THE WIDOW'S HOUSE. Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana. Hel. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, One of the greatest in the christian world Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne, 'tis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel: Time was, I did him a desired office, Dear almost as his life; which gratitude My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, Wid. Gentle madam, You never had a servant, to whose trust Your business was more welcome. Hel. Nor you, mistress, And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! Dia. Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to suffer. Hel. Yet, I pray you, But with the word, the time will bring on summer, When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns, And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us: All's well that ends well: still the fine's the crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt. SCENE V. ROUSILLON. A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S PALACE. Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata fellow there; whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour; and your son here at home, more advanced by the king, than by that red-tail'd humble-bee I speak of. Count. I would, I had not known him! it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever nature had praise for creating: if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. Laf. "Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand sallads, ere we light on such another herb. Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallad, or, rather the herb of grace. Laf. They are not sallad-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs. Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, or a fool? Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. Laf. Your distinction? Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service. Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. Laf. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool. Clo. At your service. Laf. No, no, no. Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. Laf. Who's that? a Frenchman? Clo. Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there. Laf. What prince is that? Clo. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil. Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st of; serve him still. Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world, let his nobility remain in his court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter: some, that humble themselves, may; but the many will be too chill and tender; and they'll be for the flowery way, that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire. Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks. Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature. [Exit. Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. Laf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss; and I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the king my master, to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose: his highness hath promised me to do it: and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected. Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd. Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him |