The dramatic works of William Shakspere, from the text of Johnson, Stevens [sic] & Reed, with glossarial notes, his life, etc. by N. Rowe

Of Mars' fiery steed: To other regions!
France is a stable; we that dwell in't, jades;
Therefore, to the war!

Ber. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
That which I durst not speak: His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where noble fellows strike: War is no strife
To the dark house,* and the detested wife.

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure?
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise
I'll send her straight away: To-morrow [me.
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

Pur. Why, these balls bound; there's noise
in it.-"Tis hard;

A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd:
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:
The king has done you wrong; but, hush! 'tis

So.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same.-Another Room in the

same.

Enter HELENA and CLOWN.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well?

Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her health she's very merry; but yet she is not well but thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'the world; but yet she is not well.

Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well?

Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence, God send her quickly! Enter PAROlles.

Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on: and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave! How does my old lady?

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 man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing.

Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You should have said, Sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, Sir. Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.

Clo. Did you find me in yourself, Sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, Sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter.

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.-
Madam, my lord will go away to-night;
A very serious business calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,
Which, as your due, time claims, he does ac-
knowledge;

But puts it off by a compell'd restraint;
Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed

with sweets,

The house made gloomy by discontent.

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
Which they distil now in the curbed time,
And pleasure drown the brim.
Hel. What's his will else?

Par. That you will take your instant leave o
And make this haste as your own good proceed
the king,
[ing,
Strengthen'd with what apology you think
May make it probable need.*

Hel. What more commands he?
Pur. That, having this obtain'd, you presently

Attend his further pleasure.

Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will.
Par. I shall report it so.

Hel. I pray you.-Come, sirrah.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Another Room in the same.

Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM.

him a soldier.
Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not

Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.

Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. Ber. And by other warranted testimony. Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.t

great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant. Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very

ence, and transgressed against his valour; and Laf. I have then sinned against his experiyet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the

amity.

Ber. Will she away to-night?
Par. As you'll have her.

Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my

treasure,

When I should take possession of the bride,—
Given order for our horses; and to-night,
And, ere I do begin,-

latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-
Laf. A good traveller is something at the
thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thou-
sand nothings with, should be once heard, and
thrice beaten.-God save you, captain.

lord and you, monsieur ?
Ber. Is there any unkindness between my

Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure.

and spurs and all, like him that leaped into Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord.

Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy conthis light nut; the soul of this man is his sequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.--Farewell, monsieur : I have

A specious appearance of recessity.

The bunting nearly resembles the sky-lark; but has little or no song, which gives estimation to the sky-lark.

spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. Exit.

Par. An idle lord, I swear.

Ber. I think so.

Par. Why, do you not know him?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common
speech

Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
Enter HELENA.

you,

Hel. I have, Sir, as I was commanded from
[leave
Spoke with the king, and have procured his
For present parting; only, he desires
Some private speech with you.

Ber. I shall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular: prepar'd I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat
you,

That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,
Greater than shows itself, at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother:
[Giving a letter.

"Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so
I leave you to your wisdom.

Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,

But that I am your most obedient servant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel. And ever shall

With true observance seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.

Ber. Let that go:

My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home.
Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon.

Ber. Well, what would you say?

Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ;t
Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal

What law does vouch mine own.

Ber. What would you have?

Hel. Something; and scarce so much :-nothing indeed.

I would not tell you what I would: my lord-
'faith, yes;-

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to

horse.

Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good
my lord.

Ber. Where are my other men,_monsieur?-
Farewell.
[Exit HELENA.
Go thou toward home; where I will never come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the
Away, and for our flight.
Par. Bravely, coragio!

ACT III.

France

Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.

2 Lord. Good my lord,

The reasons of our state I cannot yield,*
But like a common and an outward man,t
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
Say what I think of it; since I have found
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.

Duke. Be it his pleasure.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our
nature,+

That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day,
Come here for physic.

Duke. Welcome shall they be;

And all the honours, that can fly from us,
Shall on them settle. You know your places
well;

When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field,
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE II-Rousillon.-A Room in the COUN-
TESS' Palace.

Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN.

Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that he comes not along with her. Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you?

Clo. Why, he will look upon boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song.

Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. [Opening a letter.

Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

[Exit.

Count. What have we here? Clo. E'en that you have there. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughterin-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son,

BERTRAM This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king; [drum: -To pluck his indignation on thy head, [Exeunt. By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire.

Re-enter CLOWN

Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter?

Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed an soon as I thought he would.

* I. e. I cannot inform you of the reasons.
+ One not in the secret of affairs.

As we say at present, our young fellows.
The folding at the top of the boot,

Cour... Why should he be killed? Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit CLOWN.

Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.

2 Gen. Do not say so.

Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gentlemen,

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,
Can woman* me unto't:-Where is my son, I
pray you?

2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: [came, We met him thitherward; from thence we And, after some despatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport.

[Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come of, und show me a child begotten of thy body, that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a never.

This is a dreadful sentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? 1 Gen. Ay, madam; [pains. And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,‡ Thou robb'st me of a moiety: He was my son; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child.-Towards Florence is he?

2 Gen. Ay, madam.

Count. And to be a soldier?

2 Gen. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe't,

The duke will lay upon him all the honour
That good convenience claims.

Count. Return you thither?

1 Gen. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

Hel. [Reads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.

"Tis bitter.

Count. Find you that there?

Hel. Ay, madam.

1 Gen. "Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which

His heart was not consenting to.

Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife!

There's nothing here, that is too good for him,
But only she; and she deserves a lord,
That twenty such rude boys might tend upon,
And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with

him?

1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have some time known. Count. Parolles, was't not?

1 Gen. Ay, my good lady, he.
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of
wickedness.

My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.

* 1. e. Affect me suddenly and deeply, as our sex are usually affected.

+ I. e. When you can get the ring which is on my finger into your possession.

If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself.

1 Gen. Indeed, good lady,
The fellow has a deal of that, too much,
Which holds him much to have.

Count. You are welcome, gentlemen,
I will entreat you, when you see my son,
To tell him, that his sword can never win
The honour that he loses : more I'll entreat
Written to bear along.

2 Gen. We serve you, madam,
In that and all your worthiest affairs.

Will you draw near?
Count. Not so, but as we change our courte.
[sies.
[Exeunt COUNTESS and GENTLEMEN.
Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in
France.

Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in
France,
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I [thou
That drive thee from the sportive court, where
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord!
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so affected: better 'twere,
I met the ravint lion when he roar'd
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twers
That all the miseries, which nature owes,
Were mine at once: No, come thou home,
Rousillon,

Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all; I will be gone :

My being here it is, that keeps thee hence:
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[Exit.

Might you not know, she would do as she has done,

By sending me a letter? Read it again.
Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted row my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war,
My dearest master, your dear son may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far,
His name with zealous fervour sanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

1, his despiteful Juno,* sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping foes to live,
Where death and danger dog the heels of worth:
He is too good and fair for death and me;
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her

mildest words!

Rinaldo, you did never lack advicet so much,
As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus she hath prevented.

Stew. Pardon me, madam:
If I had given you this at over-night,
She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she
Pursuit would be in vain.
[writes,

Count. What angel shall
Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to
hear,

And loves to grant, reprive him from the wrath
Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weight too light: my greatest

grief,

Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Despatch the most convenient messenger:-
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love which of them both
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
To make distinction :-Provide this messen-

SCENE V.-Without the Walls of Florence. A tucket afar off. Enter an old WIDOW of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, MARIANA, and other Citizens.

Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight.

Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable service.

Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark: you may know by their trumpets.

Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion.

Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Pa

Alluding to the story of Hercules.

Discretion or thought.

Weigh here means to value or esteem.

| rolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maiden hood. cannot for all that dissuade succession, but

that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; but, hope, your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is so lost.

Dia. You shall not need to fear me.

Enter HELENA, in the dress of a Pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.- -Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house: thither God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you they send one another: I'll question her.

bound?

a one?

Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly His face I know not. [of him: Dia. Whatsoe'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, As 'tis reported, for the king had married him Against his liking: Think you it is so? Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth;|| I know his lady.

Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the Reports but coarsely of her. [count, Hel. What's his name? Dia. Monsieur Parolles. Hel. O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated; all her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examin’d. Dia. Alas, poor lady!

'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife Of a detesting lord.

Wid. A right good creature: wheresoe'er she is,

Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. [do he

Hel. How do you mean?
May be, the amorous count solicits ner
In the unlawful purpose.

Wid. He does, indeed;

And brokes* with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:

But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard
In honestest defence.

Enter with drum and colours, a party of the

rentine army, BERTRAM, and PAROLLES.
Mar. The gods forbid else!
Wid. So, now they come :-
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That, Escalus.

Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
Dia. He;

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the Flo-leaguer of the adversaries, when we bring him to our 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 fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgement in any thing. 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. Enter PAROLLES.

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fel-fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem

low;

[ter, I would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honesHe were much goodlier:-Is't not a handsome gentleman?

Hel. I like him well.

Dia. 'Tis pity, he is not honest: Yond's that
same knave,

That leads him to these places; were I his
I'd poison that vile rascal.

Hel. Which is he?

[lady,

Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'the battle.

Par. Lose our drum! well.

1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. Par. But à drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost!-There was an excellent command.

Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something to charge in with our horse upon our own Look, he has spied us.

Wid. Marry, hang you!

Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Officers,

and Soldiers.

Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will bring you

you

Where shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques
Already at my house.
[bound,

Hel. I humbly thank you :

Please it this matron, and this gentle maid,
To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thank-
ing,

Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts on this virgin,
Worthy the note.

Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence. Enter BERTRAM, and the two French LORDS. 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let

him have his way.

2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.

1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble.
Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceiv'd in

him?

1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertain

wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the

command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.

Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered Par. It might have been recovered Ber. It might, but it is not now.

Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.t

Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem his native quarter, be magnanimous in the can bring this instrument of honour again into enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit; if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.

Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.

Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me.

Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it?

Par. I know not what the success may be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.

possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for Ber. I know, thou art valiant; and, to the

thee.

Farewell.

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The dramatic works of William Shakspere, from the text of Johnson, Stevens ...