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to what metal this counterfeit lump of Oar will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.

Enter Parolles.

I 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, Monfieur? this drum sticks forely 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 loft! there was an excellent command ! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own foldiers.

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cafar himfelf 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 recover'd.

Par. It might have been recover'd.

Ber. It might, but it is not now.

Par. It is to be recover'd; 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, Monfieur; 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 fyllable of your worthiness.

Par. By the hand of a foldier, 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 dilemma's, encourage myself in my cer

tainty,

tainty, 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, th'art valiant; and to the possiblity of thy foldiership, will subscribe for thee; farewel. 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 it, and dares better be damn'd 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?

2 Lord None in the world, but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies; but we have almost imboss'd him, you shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect.

I Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we cafe him. He was first smoak'd by the old lord Lafeu; when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall fee, this very night.

2 Lord. I must go and look my twigs, he shall be caught. Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. 2 Lord. As't please your lordship. I'll leave you.

[Exit.

Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and shew you

The lass I spoke of.

1 Lord. But you say, she's honest.

Ber.

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'th' wind,
Tokens and letters, which she did re-send;
And this is all I've done she's a fair creature,
Will you go see her?

I Lord. With all my heart, my lord.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Widow's House.

Hel. I

Enter Helena, and Widow.

F 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. Tho' my estate be fallen, I was well born,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
And would not put my reputation now
In any ftaining 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 beltowing it.

Wid. I should believe you,

For you have shew'd me that, which well approves
Y'are great in fortune.

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 wooes your daughter,
Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
Resolves to carry her; let her 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 Count does wear,
That downward hath succeeded in his house
From fon to son, some four or five descents,
Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds

In

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,
Defires this ring; appoints him an encounter;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
Herself most chastly absent: after this,
To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is paft already.

Wid. I have yielded:

Instruct my daughter how she shall persevere,
That time and place, with this deceit so lawful,
May prove coherent. Every night he comes
With mufick of all forts, 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 affay our plot; which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed;
And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
Where both not fin, and yet a finful fact.
But let's about it -

[Exeunt.

ACT

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SCENE, Part of the French Camp in Florence.

Enter one of the French Lords, with five or fix Soldiers in ambush.

H

LORDS.

E can come no other way but by this hedge-corner; when you fally upon him, speak what ter

rible language you will; though you understand it not your selves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one amongst us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

Sol. Good captain, let me be th' interpreter. Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice ?

Sol. No, Sir, I warrant you.

Lord. But what linfie-woolfie haft thou to speak to us again?

Sol. Ev'n such as you speak to me.

Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i'th' adversaries' 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 politick. But couch, hoa! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a fleep, 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?

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