Puslapio vaizdai

SCENE changes to Roufillon, in France.


Enter Countefs, and Clown.

Count.TT hath happen'd, all as I would have had it ; fave, that he comes not along with her.

Clo. By my troth, I take my young Lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what obfervance, I pray you?

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and fing mend his ruff, and fing; afk queftions, and fing; pick his teeth, and fing. I knew a man that had this trick of melancholy, fold a goodly manor for a fong.

to come.

Count. Let me fee what he writes, and when he means [Reads the Letter. Clo. I have no mind to bel, fince I was at court, Our old ling, and our bels o'th' country, are nothing like your old ling, and your Ibels o'th' court: the brain of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no ftomach.

Count. What have we here?

Clo. E'en that you have there.

Countess reads a Letter.


I have fent you a daughter-in-law: fhe hath recovered the King, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and fworn to make the not eternal. You shall bear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you.

Your unfortunate fon,

This is not well, rafh and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of fo good a king,
To pluck his indignation on thy head;
By the mifprizing of a maid, too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.



Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O Madam, yonder is heavy news within be tween two foldiers and my young Lady.

Count. What is the matter?

Clo. Nay, there is fome comfort in the news, fome comfort; your fon will not be kill'd fo foon as I thought he would.

Count. Why fhould he be kill'd ?

Clo. So fay I, Madain, if he run away, as I hear he does; the danger is in ftanding to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children.

they come, will tell you more.

hear, your fon was run away.


For my part, I only

Enter Helena and two Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Save you, good Madam.

Hel. Madam, my Lord, is gone, for ever gone.2 Gen. Do not fay fo.

Count. Think upon patience: 'pray you, Gentlemen, I've felt fo many quirks of joy and grief,

That the first face of neither, on the start,

Can woman me unto't. Where is my son ?

2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to ferve the Duke of Florence? We met him thitherward, from thence we came; And after fome dispatch in hand at court,

Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on his letter, Madam; here's my paffport.

When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never fhall come off; and fhew me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me bufband: but in fuch a then I write a never.

This is a dreadful fentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, Gentlemen?

1 Gen. Ay, Madam, and, for the contents fake, are forry for our pains.

Count. I pr'ytkee, Lady, have a better cheer. If thou engroffeft all the griefs as thine,

C 2


Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my fon,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,

And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?
2 Gen. Ay, Madam.

Count. And to be a foldier ?

2 Gen. Such is his noble purpofe; and, believe't, The Duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims."

Count. Return you thither?

1 Gen. Ay, Madam, with the fwifteft wing of speed. Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter.

Count. Find you that there?

Hel. Yes, Madam.


1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldnefs of his hand, happ'ly, which his heart was not confenting to.

Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife?
There's nothing here, that is too good for him,
But only fhe; and the deferves a Lord,
That twenty fuch rude boys might tend upon,
And call her hourly miftrefs. Who was with him?
1 Gen. A fervant only, and a gentleman
Which I have fome time known.

Count. Parolles, was't not?

1 Gen. Ay, my good Lady, he.

Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness : My fon corrupts a well-derived nature

With his inducement.

1 Gen. (27) Indeed, good Lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which holds him much to have.

Count. Y'are welcome, Gentlemen; I will intreat you, when you fee my fon, to tell him, that his fword

(27) Indeed good Lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which bold's bim much to bave.] This is fomewhat obfcure in the expreffion; but the meaning must be this, The fellow, indeed, has a deal too much vanity, lying, boasting; but it holds him much to have fuch qualities; i. e. it fands him in great ftead, is of great fervice to him, and what he cannot do without. Fer thefe were the arts that Parolles ufed to get into Bertram's favour; and when once they were discover'd, he was fet a-drift, and undone.

can never win the honour that he lofes : more I'll intreat you written to bear along.

2 Gen. We ferve you, Madam, in that and all your worthieft affairs.

Count. Not fo, but as we change our courtefies.

Will you draw near?

[Exeunt Count, and Gentlemen. Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Nothing in France, until he has no wife!

Thou shalt have none, Roufillon, none in France;
Then haft thou all again. Poor Lord! is't l
That chafe thee from thy country, and expofe
Thofe tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-fparing war? and is it I,

That drive thee from the fportive court, where thou
Waft shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of fmoaky mufkets? O you leaden meffengers,
That ride upon the violent fpeed of fire,
Fly with falle aim; move the ftill piercing air,
That fings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
Whoever shoots at him, I fet him there.
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;
And tho' I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was fo effected. Better 'twere,
I met the rav'ning lion when he roar'd

With fharp constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miferies, which Nature owes,

Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon,
Whence honour but of danger wins a fcar;

As oft it lofes all. I will be gone :

My being here it is, that holds thee hence.
Shall I ftay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of Paradife did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all; I will be gone:
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,

To confolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

C 3



SCENE changes to the Duke's Court in Florence.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Drum and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles.



HE general of our horfe thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and Upon thy promising, fortune. [credence

Ber. Sir, it is

A charge too heavy for my ftrength; but yet
We'll ftrive to hear it for your worthy fake,
To th' extreme edge of hazard.

Duke. Then go forth,

And fortune play upon thy profp'rous helm,
As thy aufpicious mistress!

Ber. This very day,

Great Mars, I put myself into thy file;

Make me but like my thoughts, and I fhall prove
A lover of thy drum; hater of love.

[Exeunts SCENE changes to Roufillon in France.



Enter Countefs and Steward.

Las! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know, fhe would do, as fhe has done,

By fending me a letter ? Read it again.


I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath fo in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With fainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that from the bloody courfe of war
My dearest mafter, your dear fon, may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far
His name with zealous fervour fanctify.

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