Ber. What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much: nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord: Faith, yes; Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. 9€ [Exit Helena. Go thou toward home; where I will never come Par. Bravely, coragio! ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Florence. The DUKE's palace Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, attended; the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers. Duke. So that from point to point now have you Whose great decision hath much blood let forth First Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. Duke. heard Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Sec. Lord. Good my lord, 10 The reasons of our state I cannot yield, First Lord. But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Shall on them settle. You know your places well; SCENE II. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN. Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very mel· ancholy man. Count. By what observance, I pray you? Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. come. 10 Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to [Opening a letter. Clo. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. Count. What have we here? [Exit. 20 Count. [Reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the "not" eternal. You shall hear 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 son, This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, Re-enter CLOWN. BERTRAM. 30 Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady! Count. What is the matter? Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be killed? 40 Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does : the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more for my part, I only hear your son was run away. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. First Gent. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. [Exit. Count. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, 50 I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, That the first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto 't: where is my son, I pray you? ence: We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. [Reads] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a "then" I write a "never." This is a dreadful sentence. Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? Ay, madam: And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? Count. And to be a soldier? Sec. Gent. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. Count. Return you thither? 70 First Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. Hel. [Reads] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Tis bitter. Count. Find you that there? Hel. Ay, madam. First Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not consenting to. Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! There's nothing here that is too good for him But only she; and she deserves a lord 80 That twenty such rude boys might tend upon And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? Count. First Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. Parolles, was it not? 90 Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. First Gent. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much, Count. You're welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, The honour that he loses more I'll entreat you Sec. Gent. We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. 100 Will you draw near? [Exeunt Countess 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, Rousillon, none in France; Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is 't I That chase thee from thy country and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 110 Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-piecing air, That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the catiff that do hold him to't; And, though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: better 'twere I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon As oft it loses all: I will be gone; My being here it is that holds thee hence: 120 The air of paradise did fan the house To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! 130 [Exit. SCENE III. Florence. Before the DUKE's palace. Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets. Duke. The general of our horse thou art and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. Sir, it is Ber. Then go thou forth; This very day, And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file : Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove SCENE IV. Rousillon. 10 [Exeunt. The COUNT's palace. Enter COUNTESS and Steward. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Stew. [Reads] I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone: With sainted vow my faults to have amended. His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth: He is too good and fair for death and me; Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! 10 |