_Hel._ Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love: doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive 20 And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts Defiles the pitchy night: so lust doth play With what it loathes for that which is away. 25 But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf. _Dia._ Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to suffer. _Hel._ Yet, I pray you: 30 But with the word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our waggon is prepared, and time revives us: ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL: still the fine's the crown; 35 Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [_Exeunt._ LINENOTES: SCENE IV.] SCENE VII. Pope. [3] _'fore_] _for_ F1. [6] _which_] _for which_ Hanmer. [9] _is at_] _it_ F2. _Marseilles_] Rowe (ed. 2). _Marcellæ_ F1. _Marsellis_ F2 F3. _Marselis_ F4. [16] _you_] F4. _your_ F1 F2 F3. [23] _saucy trusting of_] Ff. _fancy trusting in_ Hanmer. _fancy trusting of_ Warburton. [30, 31] _I pray you: But with the word_] Ff. _I pray you, Bear with the word:_ Hanmer. _I pray you, But with the word:_ Capell. _I pray you,--But with the word,_ Steevens (Henley conj.). _I fray you But with the word:_ Collier (Blackstone conj.). _I play you But with the word:_ Jackson conj. _I pray you: But with the world_ Collier MS. _I pay you But with the word;_ Grant White. _I pay you But with the word,_ Staunton conj. [31-33] _But ... away_] _But--with the word 'The time ... sharp,'--we must away_ Anon. conj. [34] _revives_] Ff. _reviles_ Hanmer. _revyes_ Warburton. _invites_ Johnson and Heath conj. [35] _the fine's_] Theobald. _the fines_ F1. _that fines_ F2 F3. _that finds_ F4. [36] _course_] _curse_ Rowe (ed. 2). SCENE V. _Rousillon. The_ COUNT'S _palace._ _Enter_ COUNTESS, LAFEU, _and_ Clown. _Laf._ No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king 5 than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.