Marseilles. A street.
[Enter HELENA, Widow, and
DIANA, with two Attendants]
Gentleman What’s your will?
HELENA That it will please you
To give this poor petition to the king,
And aid me with that store of power you have
To come into his presence.
Gentleman The king’s not here.
HELENA Not here, sir!
Gentleman Not, indeed:
He hence removed last night and with more haste
Than is his use.
Widow Lord, how we lose our pains!
HELENA ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet,
Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gentleman Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.
HELENA I do beseech you, sir,
Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
Which I presume shall render you no blame
But rather make you thank your pains for it.
I will come after you with what good speed
Our means will make us means.
Gentleman This I’ll do for you.
HELENA And you shall find yourself to be well thank’d,
Whate’er falls more. We must to horse again.
Go, go, provide.