King. This haste hath wings indeed
Laf. Nay, come your waies,
This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him,
A Traitor you doe looke like, but such traitors
His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds Vncle,
That dare leaue two together, far you well.
Enter.
King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?
Hel. I my good Lord,
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
In what he did professe, well found
King. I knew him
Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him,
Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,
Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,
Which as the dearest issue of his practice
And of his olde experience, th' onlie darling,
He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,
Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so,
And hearing your high Maiestie is toucht
With that malignant cause, wherein the honour
Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheefe in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humblenesse
King. We thanke you maiden,
But may not be so credulous of cure,
When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and
The congregated Colledge haue concluded,
That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature
From her inaydible estate: I say we must not
So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malladie
To empericks, or to disseuer so
Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme
A sencelesse helpe, when helpe past sence we deeme
Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines:
I will no more enforce mine office on you,
Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,
A modest one to beare me backe againe
King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:
Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thankes I giue,
As one neere death to those that wish him liue:
But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,
I knowing all my perill, thou no Art
Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,
Since you set vp your rest 'gainst remedie:
He that of greatest workes is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister:
So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne,
When Iudges haue bin babes; great flouds haue flowne
From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried
When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied.
Oft expectation failes, and most oft there
Where most it promises: and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts
King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,
Thy paines not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid,
Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward
Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard,
It is not so with him that all things knowes
As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:
But most it is presumption in vs, when
The help of heauen we count the act of men.
Deare sir, to my endeauors giue consent,
Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an Imposture, that proclaime
My selfe against the leuill of mine aime,
But know I thinke, and thinke I know most sure,
My Art is not past power, nor you past cure
King. Art thou so confident? Within what space
Hop'st thou my cure?
Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnall ring,
Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe:
Or foure and twenty times the Pylots glasse
Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:
What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie,
Health shall liue free, and sickenesse freely dye
King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar'st thou venter?
Hell. Taxe of impudence,
A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame
Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name
Seard otherwise, ne worse of worst extended
With vildest torture, let my life be ended
Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
His powerfull sound, within an organ weake:
And what impossibility would slay
In common sence, sence saues another way:
Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all
That happines and prime, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,
Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try,
That ministers thine owne death if I die
Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die,
And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee,
But if I helpe, what doe you promise me
Kin. Make thy demand
Hel. But will you make it euen?
Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe
Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand
What husband in thy power I will command:
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royall bloud of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But such a one thy vassall, whom I know
Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow
Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd:
So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye:
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know, could not be more to trust:
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest
Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest.
Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed,
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
Florish. Exit.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height
of your breeding
Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly
taught, I know my businesse is but to the Court
Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall, when you put off that with such contempt, but to the Court? Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners, hee may easilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot make a legge, put off's cap, kisse his hand, and say nothing, has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the Court, but for me, I haue an answere will serue all men
Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all questions
Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes, the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke, or any buttocke
Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions? Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney, as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, as Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for Shroue-tuesday, a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole, the Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin
Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for
all questions?
Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable,
it will fit any question
Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size,
that must fit all demands
Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned should speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no harme to learne
Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a
foole in question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer
La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?
Clo. O Lord sir theres a simple putting off: more,
more, a hundred of them
La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you
Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me
La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely meate
Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you
La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke
Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me
La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent to your whipping: you would answere very well to a whipping if you were but bound too't
Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord
sir: I see things may serue long, but not serue euer
La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine
it so merrily with a foole
Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen
La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this,
And vrge her to a present answer backe,
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,
This is not much
Clo. Not much commendation to them
La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand me
Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges
La. Hast you agen.
Exeunt.
Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.
Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our Philosophicall persons, to make moderne and familiar things supernaturall and causelesse. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrours, ensconcing our selues into seeming knowledge, when we should submit our selues to an vnknowne feare
Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times
Ros. And so 'tis
Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists
Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus
Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes
Par. Right so I say
Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable
Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too
Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd
Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-
Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life, and sure death
Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said
Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world
Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you
shall reade it in what do ye call there
Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly
Actor
Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same
Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee
I speake in respect-
Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the
breefe and the tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious
spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the-
Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen
Par. I, so I say
Ol.Laf. In a most weake-
Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence,
which should indeede giue vs a further vse to
be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee
Old Laf. Generally thankfull.
Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.
Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes
the King
Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a maide the Better whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why he's able to leade her a Carranto
Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?
Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke so
King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court,
Sit my preseruer by thy patients side,
And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receyue
The confirmation of my promis'd guift,
Which but attends thy naming.
Enter 3 or 4 Lords.
Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell
Of Noble Batchellors, stand at my bestowing,
Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice
I haue to vse; thy franke election make,
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake
Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris;
Fall when loue please, marry to each but one
Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture
My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,
And writ as little beard
King. Peruse them well:
Not one of those, but had a Noble father.
She addresses her to a Lord.
Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd the king to health
All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you
Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest
That I protest, I simply am a Maide:
Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already:
The blushes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,
We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;
Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer,
Wee'l nere come there againe
King. Make choise and see,
Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee
Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,
And to imperiall loue, that God most high
Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite?
1.Lo. And grant it
Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute
Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw
Ames-ace for my life
Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes,
Before I speake too threatningly replies:
Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue
Her that so wishes, and her humble loue
2.Lo. No better if you please
Hel. My wish receiue,
Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue
Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons of mine, I'de haue them whip'd, or I would send them to'th Turke to make Eunuches of
Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,
Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne sake:
Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed
Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed
Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none haue heere: sure they are bastards to the English, the French nere got em
La. You are too young, too happie, and too good
To make your selfe a sonne out of my blood
4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so
Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father drunke wine. But if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth of fourteene: I haue knowne thee already
Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue
Me and my seruice, euer whilst I liue
Into your guiding power: This is the man
King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy
wife
Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes
In such a busines, giue me leaue to vse
The helpe of mine owne eies
King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's
done for mee?
Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know
why I should marrie her
King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly
bed
Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe
Must answer for your raising? I knowe her well:
Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine
Rather corrupt me euer
King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which
I can build vp: strange is it that our bloods
Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off
In differences so mightie. If she bee
All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st)
A poore Phisitians daughter, thou dislik'st
Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:
From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by th' doers deede.
Where great additions swell's, and vertue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,
Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:
The propertie by what is is, should go,
Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire,
In these, to Nature shee's immediate heire:
And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,
Which challenges it selfe as honours borne,
And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,
When rather from our acts we them deriue
Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue
Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,
Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?
If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,
I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee
Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee
Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't
King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue
to choose
Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
Let the rest go
King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate
I must produce my power. Heere, take her hand,
Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,
That dost in vile misprision shackle vp
My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame,
We poizing vs in her defectiue scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,
It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where
We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:
Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:
Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie
Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right
Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes,
Or I will throw thee from my care for euer
Into the staggers, and the carelesse lapse
Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate
Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice,
Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer
Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit
My fancie to your eies, when I consider
What great creation, and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late
Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now
The praised of the King, who so ennobled,
Is as 'twere borne so
King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize: If not to thy estate,
A ballance more repleat
Ber. I take her hand
Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King
Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie
Shall seeme expedient on the now borne briefe,
And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast
Shall more attend vpon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her,
Thy loue's to me Religious: else, do's erre.
Exeunt.
Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.
Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you
Par. Your pleasure sir
Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation
Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?
Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?
Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode
without bloudie succeeding. My Master?
Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?
Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man
Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of
another stile
Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are
too old
Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which
title age cannot bring thee
Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do
Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a prettie wise fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of thy trauell, it might passe: yet the scarffes and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldlie disswade me from beleeuing thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt scarce worth
Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon thee
Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least thou hasten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee well, thy casement I neede not open, for I look through thee. Giue me thy hand
Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity
Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it
Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it
Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will not bate thee a scruple
Par. Well, I shall be wiser
Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire to holde my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, he is a man I know
Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation
Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my poore doing eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue. Enter.
Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace off me; scuruy, old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience, and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue no more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile beate him, and if I could but meet him agen. Enter Lafew.
Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's newes for you: you haue a new Mistris
Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to make some reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good Lord, whom I serue aboue is my master
Laf. Who? God
Par. I sir
Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeues? Do other seruants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine Honor, if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'st thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold beate thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath themselues vpon thee
Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord
Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and no true traueller: you are more sawcie with Lordes and honourable personages, then the Commission of your birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.
Exit
Enter Count Rossillion.
Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very good, let it be conceal'd awhile
Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer
Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?
Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue
sworne, I will not bed her
Par. What? what sweet heart?
Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:
Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,
The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres
Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import
is, I know not yet
Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy,
too'th warres:
He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene,
That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home,
Spending his manlie marrow in her armes
Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet
Of Marses fierie steed: to other Regions,
France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades,
Therefore too'th warre
Ros. It shall be so, Ile 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 speake. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife
To the darke house, and the detected wife
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 hard
A 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's
not verie well?
Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things
Hel. What two things?
Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send
her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence
God send her quickly.
Enter Parolles.
Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie
Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine
owne good fortune
Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to
keepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do's
my 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 sweets
Which 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 thinke
May make it probable neede
Hel. What more commands hee?
Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie
Attend 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 Larke
for 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 and
you Monsieur?
Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my
Lords 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 speech
Giues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.
Enter Helena.
Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you
Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue
For present parting, onely he desires
Some 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 does
The ministration, and required office
On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
For such a businesse, therefore am I found
So 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 neede
Greater 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, so
I 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 shall
With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that
Wherein toward me my homely starres haue faild
To 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 steale
What 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 a
troope of
Souldiers.
Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard
The fundamentall reasons of this warre,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
And 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 France
Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome
Against 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 not
Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found
My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile
As 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 day
Come 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, saue
that he comes not along with her
Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie
melancholly 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 start
Can 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 sorrie
for 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't
The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor
That 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, which
his heart was not consenting too
Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:
There's nothing heere that is too good for him
But onely she, and she deserues a Lord
That 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 I
haue 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 nature
With his inducement
Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of
that, 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 your
worthiest 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 I
That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose
Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent
Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I,
That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou
Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke
Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire
That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.
Who euer charges on his forward brest
I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
And though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: Better 'twere
I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd
With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were 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, although
The ayre of Paradise did fan the house,
And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,
That pittifull rumour may report my flight
To 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 we
Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence
Vpon thy promising fortune
Ber. Sir it is
A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
Wee'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 helme
As thy auspicious mistris
Ber. This very day
Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue
A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
Exeunt. omnes
Enter 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 vpon
With sainted vow my faults to haue amended
Write, 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 writes
Pursuite would be but vaine
La. What Angell shall
Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,
Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare
And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath
Of 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 shee
Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe,
Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence
To 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 done
Most honourable seruice
Wid. It is reported,
That he has taken their great'st Commander,
And that with his owne hand he slew
The 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 rich
As honestie
Widdow. I haue told my neighbour
How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman
His 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 know
she will lye at my house, thither they send one another,
Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are
bound?
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 Pilgrime
But till the troopes come by,
I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,
The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse
As 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 yours
That 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 is
He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France
As 'tis reported: for the King had married him
Against 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 worth
Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane
To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing
Is a reserued honestie, and that
I haue not heard examin'd
Dian. Alas poore Ladie,
'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a detesting Lord
Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,
Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her
A shrewd turne if she pleas'd
Hel. How do you meane?
May be the amorous Count solicites her
In the vnlawfull purpose
Wid. He does indeede,
And brokes with all that can in such a suite
Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide:
But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard
In honestest defence.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the
whole
Armie.
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 honester
He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
Hel. I like him well
Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue
That 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 hee
melancholly?
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 bring
you, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents
There'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 Maide
To eate with vs to night, the charge and thanking
Shall 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 him
haue 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 farre
Deceiued 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 are
gone 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 you
The 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 her
By this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th winde
Tokens 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 now
In 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 cannot
By 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 approues
Y'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 againe
When I haue found it. The Count he woes your
daughter,
Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,
Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent
As 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 house
From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,
Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holds
In 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: after
To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes
To what is past already
Wid. I haue yeelded:
Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,
That time and place with this deceite so lawfull
May proue coherent. Euery night he comes
With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd
To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs
To chide him from our eeues, for he persists
As if his life lay on't
Hel. Why then to night
Let 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 not
thy voice?
1.Sol. No sir I warrant you
Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs
againe
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, and
be that he is
Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue
the 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 the
Citadell
Lo.E. How deepe?
Par. Thirty fadome
Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be
beleeued
Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
would 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