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.

Dia. Monsieur Parolles.

Hel.

What's his name?

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. Ay, right; good creature, wheresoe'er she is,

Her heart weighs sadly this young maid might do her
A shrewd 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.

Mar. The gods forbid else!

Wid.

So, now they come.

Enter, with drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army, Bertram,

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 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 lady,

I would poison that vile rascal.

Hel.

Which is he?

Dia. That jackanapes 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

Hel.

Both.

There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
Already at my house.

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 farther,

will bestow some precepts of this virgin,
Worthy the note.

We'll take your offer kindly.

SCENE VI.-Camp before FLORENCE.

Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords.

[Exeunt.

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?

I 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 promisebreaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment.

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.

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 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 own 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 judgment in any thing.

2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch off 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.

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

Enter PAROLLES.

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 a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost!-There was 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 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.

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 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 farther 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 farther 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.

[Exit.

1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done, damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do 't?

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 sinoked 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.
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: I spoke 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.

Will you go see her?

2 Lord.

SCENE VII.-FLORENCE.

She's a fair creature :

[Exit.

With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt.

A Room in the Widow's House.

Enter HELENA and Widow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,

I know not how I shall assure you farther,
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.
Wid. Though my estate be fall'n, I was well born,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
And would not put my reputation now

Hel.

In any staining act.

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 :

For you have show'd me that, which well approves

You're great in fortune.

Take this purse of gold,

Hel. 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 woos your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolv'd to carry her: let her, in fine, consent, As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it, Now his important blood will naught 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.

The bottom of your purpose.

Hel. You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter ;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,

Herself most chastely absent: after this,
To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is past already.

I have yielded:

Wid.
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 ;