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Par. Why, do you not know him?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech
Cives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
Enter HELENA.

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave
For present parting; only he desires
Some private speech with you.

Ber. Ishall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helena, 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 shews 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.

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SCENE I.-Florence. A room in the Duke's palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attended; two French lords, and others.

Duke. So that from point to point, now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war,

Whose great decision hath much blood let forth,
And more thirsts after.

1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel

Upon your grace's part; black and fearful

On the opposer.

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SCENE II.-Rousillon. A room in the Countess's 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?

Col. Why, he will look upon his 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 [Opening a letter,

means to come.

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. Count. What have we here? Clo. E'en that you have there.

[Exit.

Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-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 fayours of so good a king;
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
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 so soon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd?

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 [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen.

son was run away.

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1 Gent. Save you, good madam!
Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
2 Gent. Do not say so!

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

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief,

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,
Thatthe great figure of a council frames

That the first face of neither, on the start,

Can woman me unto't. Where is my son, I pray you? 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Flo

rence:

We met him thitherward: from thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court,

Thither we bend again.

That all the miseries, which nature owes, Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, [Reads.]When thou canst get the ring upon my fing-Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,

er, which never shall come off,and 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 Gent. Ay, madam;

And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains.
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,

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And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? 2 Gent. Ay, madam.

Count. And to be a soldier?

2 Gent. 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 Gent. 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 Gent. 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 tweuty such rude boys might tend upon,

And call her, hourly, mistress. Who was with him?

1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman,

Which I have some time known.

Count. Parolles, was't not?

1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he.

As oft it loses all; I will be gone :
My being here it is, that holds 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.
SCENE III. - Florence. Before the Duke's palace.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, BERTRAM.
Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others.
Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
Upon thy promising fortune.

Ber. Sir, it is

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Enter Countess and Steward.

Count. 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? Read it again!

Stew. Iam Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,

Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,

My son corrupts a well-derived nature

With his inducement.

1 Gent. 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 word can never win
The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you
Written to bear along.

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

Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near? [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,

That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
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't;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause,
His death was so effected: better 'twere,
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd

With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere

With sainted vow 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 fur His name with zealous fervour sanctify: His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, 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 advice 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 writes,
Pursuit would be in vain.

Count. What angel shall

Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve 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 weigh 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,

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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.

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 do her
Ashrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

Hel. How do you mean?

May be, the amorous count solicits her
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 Floren-
tine army, BERTRAM, and PAROLLES.
Mar. The gods forbid else!
Wid. So, now they come :-
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That, Escalus.

Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a
filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young
earl.-Beware of them, Diana! their promises, en-
ticements, 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 maidenhood, cannot
for all that dissuade succession, but they are limed
with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to
advise you further; but, I hope, your own grace will
keep you where you are, though there were no fur-That leads him to these places; were I his lady,
ther danger known, but the modesty, which is so lost. I'd poison that vile rascal.
Dia. You shall not need to fear me.

Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
Dia. He;

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow;
I would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honester,
He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsome gen-
tleman?

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 they send one another:
I'll question her.

God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?
Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand.

Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
Wid. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port.
Hel. Is this the way?

Wid. Ay, marry, is it. Hark you! [Amarch afar off.
They come this way. If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,
But till the troops come by,

I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd;
The rather, for, I think, I know your hostess
As ample as myself.

Hel. Is it yourself?

Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim.

Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think, from France?

Hel. I did so.

Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, That has done worthy service.

Hel. His name, I pray you.

Dia. The count Rousillon. Know you such a one?

Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; His face I know not.

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 count,
Reports but coarsely of her.

Hel. What's his name?
Dia. Monsieur Parolles.

Hel. O, I believe with him,

Hel. I like him well.

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

Hel. Which is he?

Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?

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

Par. Lose our drum! well.

Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something:
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
Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
There's four or five, to great St Jaques bound,
Already at my house.

Hel. I humbly thank you :

Please it this matron, and this gentle maid,

To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking,
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 deceived 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

ment.

2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too

far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you. Ber. I would, I knew in what particular action to try him.

2Lord.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 hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the 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 fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem 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.

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

2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a man's favour,and, for a week,escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. Ber. Why, do you think, he will make no deed at all of this,that so seriously he does address himself unto? 1 Lord. None in the world, but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him, you shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect.

2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere
we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu;
when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat
you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.
1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.
Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me.
1 Lord. As't please your lordship:I'll leave you. [Exit.
Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
The lass I spoke of.

2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest.
Ber. That's all the fault. Ispoke with her but once,
And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,
By this same coxcomb, that we have i'the wind,
Tokens and letters, which she did re-send;
And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature;
Will you go see her?

[Exeunt. Florence. A room in the Widow's house.

2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord.
Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely SCENE VII.
in your disposition.

2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.
Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! -
There was an excellent command! to charge in with
our horse upon our own 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 Caesar 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.

Enter HELENA and Widow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
I know not, how I shall assure you further,
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.
Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses,
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act.

Hel. Nor would I wish you.
First, give me trust, the count he is my husband;
And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken,
Is so,
from word to word; and then you cannot,
By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
Err in bestowing it.

Wid. I should believe you;

You are great in fortune.

Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact perform-For you have show'd me that, which well approves, er, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet. Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, 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. Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage 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 will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.

Ber. I know, thou art valiant ; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. Par. I love not many words.

Hel. Take this purse of gold,
And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
Which I will over-pay, and pay again,
When I have found it. The count he wooes your
daughter,

Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
Resolves to carry her; let her, in fine, consent,
As we'll direct her, how 'tis best to bear it,
Now his important blood will nought deny,
That she'll demand. A ring the county wears,
That downward hath succeeded in his house,
From son to son, some four or five descents,
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 seem too dear,
Howe'er repented after.

Wid. Now I see

The bottom of your purpose.

Hel. You see it lawful then. It is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, [Exit. Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not this In fine, delivers me to fill the time, a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to Herself most chastely absent: after this, undertake this business, which he knows is not to be To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns doue; damns himself to do, and dares better be dam-To what is past already. ned than to do't? Wid. I have yielded.

Instruct my daughter, how she shall perséver,
That time and place, with this deceit so lawful,
May prove coherent. Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd
To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves; for he persists,
As if his life lay on't.

Hel. Why then, to-night

Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,

And lawful meaning in a lawful act;

Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact!
But let's about it.

SCENE I.

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Par. A drum now of the enemy's! [Alarum within. 1 Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Cargo, cargo, villianda, par corbo, cargo. [Exeunt. Par. O! ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes! [They seize him and blindfold him.

Without the Florentine camp.

1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos.
Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment,
And I shall lose my life for want of language:
If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,

The Florentine.

Enter first Lord, with five or six soldiers in ambush.
1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge-Italian, or French, let him speak to me,
corner: when you sally upon him, speak what terrible will discover that, which shall undo
language you will; though you understand it not your-
selves, no matter: for we must not seem to understand
him; unless some one among us, whom we must pro-
duce for an interpreter.

1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter!
1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not
thy voice?

1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you.

1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak to us again?

1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me.

Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i'the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: chough's language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But, couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

Enter PAROLLES.

Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find, my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.

1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. [Aside.

I

1 Sold. Boskos vauvado:
Kerelybonto:- Sir,
understand thee, and can speak thy tongue:

Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards
Are at thy bosom.

Par. Oh!

1 Sold. O, pray, pray, pray.—
Manka revania dulche.

1 Lord. Oscorbi dulchos volivorca.
1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet,
And, hood-wink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee; haply, thou may'st inform
Something to save thy life.
And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,
Par. 0, let me live,
Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that,
Which
1 Sold. But wilt thou faithfully?
you will wonder at.

Par. IfI do not, damn me!
1 Sold. Acordo linta. ·
Come on, thou art granted space.

[Exit, with Parolles guarded. 1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled,

Till we do hear from them.

2 Sold. Captain, I will.

1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves; Inform'em that.

2 Sold. So I will, sir.

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1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely
lock'd.
[Exeunt.

Enter BERTRAM and DIANA.
Ber. They told me, that your name was Fontibell.
Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber. Titled goddess;

Par. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum; being not ignorant of the SCENE II. - Florence. A room in the Widow's house. impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say, I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it. They will say, Came you off with so little? and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore? what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

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1 Lord. 'Twould not do.

And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love, no quality?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument:
When you are dead, you should be such a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet self was got.
Dia. She then was honest.
Ber. So should you be.

Dia. No:

[Aside. My mother did but duty; such, my lord,

Par. Orto drown my clothes, and say, I was stripped. As you owe to your wife.

1 Lord. Hardly serve.

[Aside. Ber. No more of that!

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