Ber. Come, come, no more of that. Hel. And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that, Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd To equal my great fortune. Ber. Let that go: My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home. Hel. Pray, Sir, your pardon. Ber. Well, what would you say? Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ;* Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. Ber. What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much:-nothing indeed.— Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. [Exit HELENA. Go thou toward home; where I will never come, Par. Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-Florence. A Room in the DUKE's Palace. Flourish.-Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two French LORDS, and others. Duke. So that, from point to point, now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war; Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after. 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and feaful On the opposer. Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. 2 Lord. Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield,† * Own. + Explain. Not in the secret. Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail Duke. Be it his pleasure. 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature,* That surfeit on their ease, will day by day, Come here for physic. Duke. Welcome shall they be; And all the honours that can fly from us, Shall on them settle. You know your places well; [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS'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 melancholy 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; píck his teeth, and sing: I know 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 come. [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. 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. duty to you. My Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To pluck his indignation on thy head, Re-enter CLOWN. Clo. O Madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. * Our young fellows. †The fold at the top of the boot. 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? 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. [Exit CLOWN. Enter HELENA and two GENTLEMEN. 1 Gen. Save you, good Madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gen. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gentlemen,— 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? 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 too, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a never. 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; If thou engrossest all the griefs* are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety. He was my son; 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 soldier ? 2 Gen. 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? 1 Gen. 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. 1 Gen. 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, *(That are.) But only she; and she deserves a lord, That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him?" 1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have some time known. Count. Parolles, was't not? 1 Gen. Ay, my good lady, he. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. 1 Gen. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, 2 Gen. We serve you, Madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. Count. Not so, but as we changet our courtesies. 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, Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air, I met the ravint 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 keeps thee hence: Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although *Too much vice, which yet stands him in stead. + Ravenous. § Only from. That pitiful rumour may report my flight, [Exit. To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! SCENE III.-Florence. Before the DUKE's Palace. Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, LORDS, Officers, Soldiers, and others. Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence, Upon thy promising fortune. Ber. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet Duke. Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! Ber. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. SCENE IV-Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS's Palace. Enter COUNTESS and STEWARD. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!- As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. Stew. Pardon me, Madam: If I had given you this at over-night, *Discretion. |