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Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, two French Lords,
i Lord. Holy seems the quarrel
Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France
2 Lord. Good my lord,
my incertain grounds to fail
Duke. Be it his pleasure.
2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nation,
Duke. Welcome shall they be:
Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
Enter Countess, and Clown.
he comes not along with her.
Count. By what observance, I pray you?
Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and fing; mend his ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing. I knew a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song.
Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to
Clo. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our old ling, and our Isbels o'th'country, are nothing like your old ling, and your Ifbels 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?
Your unfortunate fon,
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
Enter Clown. 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, fome comfort; your son will not be killd so soon as I thought he would.
Count. Why should he be kill'd?
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 heard, your son was run away.
Enter Helena, and two Gentlemen.
Count. Think upon patience, 'pray you: gentlemen,
fon? 2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence. We met him thitherward, from thence we came; And, after some despatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again.
Hel. Look on this letter, madam, here's my passport.
IV ben thou canst get the ring from my finger, which never mall come off, and how me a child begotten of thy body that I
am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a
This is a dreadful sentence.
Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ?
1 Gen. Ay, madam; and, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains.
Count. I pr’ythee, lady, have a better cheer.
2 Gen. Ay, madam.
2 Gen. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe’t,
Count. Return you thither?
Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. [reading. 'Tis bitter.
Count. Find you that there?
I Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, happily, which his heart was not consenting to.
Count. Nothing in France until he have no wife?
1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known.
Count. Parolles, was’t not?
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness: my fon corrupts a well-deriv’d nature with his inducement.
i Gen. Indeed, good lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which ’hoves him not much to have.
Count. Y'are welcome, gentlemen; I will enţreat you, when you see my son, to tell him, that his sword can never win the honour that he loses : more I'll entreat you written to bear along.
2 Gen. We serve you, madam, in that and all your worthiest affairs.
Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near ?
[Ex. Count, and Gentlemen.