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HELENA. Ay, madam, knowingly. |
COUNTESS. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, |
Means and attendants, and my loving greetings |
To those of mine in court. I'll stay at home, |
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt. |
Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, |
What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. Exeunt |
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ACT II. SCENE 1. |
Paris. The KING'S palace |
Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING with divers young LORDS taking leave |
for the Florentine war; BERTRAM and PAROLLES; ATTENDANTS |
KING. Farewell, young lords; these war-like principles |
Do not throw from you. And you, my lords, farewell; |
Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, |
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, |
And is enough for both. |
FIRST LORD. 'Tis our hope, sir, |
After well-ent'red soldiers, to return |
And find your Grace in health. |
KING. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart |
Will not confess he owes the malady |
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; |
Whether I live or die, be you the sons |
Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy- |
Those bated that inherit but the fall |
Of the last monarchy-see that you come |
Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when |
The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, |
That fame may cry you aloud. I say farewell. |
SECOND LORD. Health, at your bidding, serve your Majesty! |
KING. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; |
They say our French lack language to deny, |
If they demand; beware of being captives |
Before you serve. |
BOTH. Our hearts receive your warnings. |
KING. Farewell. [To ATTENDANTS] Come hither to me. |
The KING retires attended |
FIRST LORD. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! |
PAROLLES. 'Tis not his fault, the spark. |
SECOND LORD. O, 'tis brave wars! |
PAROLLES. Most admirable! I have seen those wars. |
BERTRAM. I am commanded here and kept a coil with |
'Too young' and next year' and "Tis too early.' |
PAROLLES. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. |
BERTRAM. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, |
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, |
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn |
But one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away. |
FIRST LORD. There's honour in the theft. |
PAROLLES. Commit it, Count. |
SECOND LORD. I am your accessary; and so farewell. |
BERTRAM. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body. |
FIRST LORD. Farewell, Captain. |
SECOND LORD. Sweet Monsieur Parolles! |
PAROLLES. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and |
lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment of |
the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of |
war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword |
entrench'd it. Say to him I live; and observe his reports for me. |
FIRST LORD. We shall, noble Captain. |
PAROLLES. Mars dote on you for his novices! Exeunt LORDS |
What will ye do? |
Re-enter the KING |
BERTRAM. Stay; the King! |
PAROLLES. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have |
restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more |
expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the |
time; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under the |
influence of the most receiv'd star; and though the devil lead |
the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more |
dilated farewell. |
BERTRAM. And I will do so. |
PAROLLES. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. |
Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES |
Enter LAFEU |
LAFEU. [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. |
KING. I'll fee thee to stand up. |
LAFEU. Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon. |
I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; |
And that at my bidding you could so stand up. |
KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, |
And ask'd thee mercy for't. |
LAFEU. Good faith, across! |
But, my good lord, 'tis thus: will you be cur'd |
Of your infirmity? |
KING. No. |
LAFEU. O, will you eat |
No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will |
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox |
Could reach them: I have seen a medicine |
That's able to breathe life into a stone, |
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary |
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