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.

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

Ber. How now, Monfieur? this drum sticks forely in your difpofition.

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 horfe 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 fuccefs: fome 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 fervice is feldom 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 ftratagem can bring this inftrument 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 fhall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost fyllable of your worthinefs.

Par. By the hand of a foldier, I will undertake it.
Ber. But you must not now flumber in it.

Par. I'll about it this evening; and I will presently pen down my dilemma's, encourage myself in my cer


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 fuccefs will be, my Lord; but the attempt I vow.

Ber. I know, th'art valiant; and to the poffiblity of thy foldiership, will iubscribe for thee; farewel. Par. I love not many words.

[Exit. Is not

1 Lord No more than a fifh loves waterthis a ftrange fellow, my Lord, that fo confidently feems to undertake this bufinefs, 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 difcoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever


Ber Why, do you think, he will make no deed at all of this, that fo seriously he does addrefs 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 almoft imbofs'd him, you fhall fee 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 firft fmoak'd by the old lord Lafeu; when his difguife and he is parted, tell me what a fprat you shall find him; which you shall fee, this very night.

2 Lord. I must go and look my twigs; he fhall be caught.

Ber. Your brother, he fhall go along with me.
2 Lord. As't pleafe your lordship. I'll leave you.

[Exit. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and fhew you

The lafs I fpoke of.

Lord. But you fay, she's honeft.


Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I fent to her, By this fame coxcomb that we have i'th' wind, Tokens and letters, which the did re-fend; And this is all I've done : fhe's a fair creature, Will you go fee her?


1 Lord. With all my heart, my lord.


SCENE changes to the Widow's Houfe.

Enter Helena, and Widow.

F you misdoubt me that I am not she,


I know not, how I fhall affure you further;
But I fhall lofe the grounds I work_upon.

Wid. Tho' my eftate be fallen, I was well born,
Nothing acquainted with these bufineffes;
And would not put my reputation now
In any ftaining act.

Hel. Nor would I wish you.

First give me truft, the Count he is my husband;
And what to your fworn counsel I have spoken,
Is fo, from word to word; and then you cannot,
By the good aid that I of you fhall borrow,
Err in beltowing it.

Wid. I fhould believe you,

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

Hel. Take this purfe 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 fiege before her beauty,

Refolves to carry her; let her confent,

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 fucceeded in his houfe

From fon to fon, fome 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 feem too dear,
Howe'er repented after.

Wid. Now I fee the bottom of your purpose.
Hel. You fee it lawful then. It is no more,
But that your daughter, ere fhe feems as won,
Defires this ring; appoints him an encounter ;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,

Herself most chaftly absent: after this,

To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is past already.

Wid. I have yielded:

Inftruct my daughter how fhe fhall persevere,
That time and place, with this deceit fo lawful,
May prove coherent. Every night he comes
With mufick of all forts, and fongs compos'd
To her unworthinefs: it nothing fteads us
To chide him from our eaves, for he perfifts,
As if his life lay on't.

Hel. Why then, to night

Let us affay our plot; which if it fpeed,
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



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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.

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E can come no other way but by this hedge-corner; when you fally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not your felves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless fome one amongst us, whom we muft 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 fuch as you speak to me.

Lord. He must think us fome band of ftrangers i'th' adverfaries' entertainment. Now he hath a fmack 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, fo we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: chough's language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must feem 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 fay, I have


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