Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home; will not bate thee a scruple.

Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis- I'll grace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: him with any convenience, an he were double and Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, The king has done you wrong; but, hush! 'tis so. than I would have of-I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will.
Par. I shall report it so.
Hel.
I pray you.-Come, sirrah.
I shall obey his will.
[Exeunt. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Enter Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required slice
On my particular: prepar'd I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled : This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse,3 than ask, why I entreat you:
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.

And all the honours, that can fly from us,
Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field.

[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; pick 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?

[Erit.

Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. Clo. E'en that you have there. Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my Count. [Reads. I have sent you a daughter-inlord. |law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?—I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to Farewell. [Exit Helena.make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run Go thou toward home; where I will never come, away; know it, before the report come. If there Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum:-be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long Away, and for our flight. distance. My duty to you. Par. Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king; To pluck his indignation on thy head, By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire.

Bravely, coragio! [Exe.

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 fearful
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,❜
But like a common and an outward man,3
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
Say what I think of it; since I have found
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.

Duke.

Be it his pleasure.

Re-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, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd?

he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear 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 Gent. Save you, good madam.

Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gent. Do not say so.

Count. Think upon patience.-Pray you, gen

tlemen,

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our na- Can woman me unto't :-Where is my son, I pray

Thither we bend again. That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Hel. Look on this letter, madam; here's my Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark passport. Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, [Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my That ride upon the violent speed of fire, finger, which never shall come off, and show me Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air, a child begotten of thy body, that I am father to, That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord! then call me husband: but in such a then I write Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;

a never.

Count. Find you that there?
Hel.

Ay, madam.

1 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,
That twenty such rude boys might tend upon,
And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him?
1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I have some time known.
Count.

Parolles, was't not?
1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he.
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick-
edness.

My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.

1 Gent.

Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Which holds him much to have.

Count. You are welcome, gentlemen.

I will entreat 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 Gent.
We serve you, madam,
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
Will you draw near?

Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;
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,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all; I will be gone:
My being here it is, that holds thee hence:
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of Paradise did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[Exit.

Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake,
To the extreme edge of hazard.
Duke.

Ber.

Then go thou forth;
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
As thy auspicious mistress!
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 Coun-
tess's Palace. Enter Countess and Steward.
Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of
her?

Might you not know, she would do as she has done,
By sending me a letter? Read it again.
Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,

With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war.
My dearest master, your dear son may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from fur,
His name with zealous fervour sanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;
in, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping foes to live,
Where death and danger dog the heels of worth:
He is too good and fair for death and me;
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

[Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing

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

(1) i. e. When you can get the ring, which is on my finger, into your possession.

(2) If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself. (3) In reply to the gentlemen's declaration, that they are her servants, the countess answers-no

Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!

Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,

otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility.

(4) Ravenous.

(5) Alluding to the story of Hercules,
(6) Discretion or thought,

As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, 1 could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented.

Stew.

Pardon me, madam:
If I had given you this at over-night,

She might have been o'ertaken; and yet she writes,
Pursuit would be in vain.

Count.
What angels shall
Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Despatch the most convenient messenger:-
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love: which of them both,
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense

Whatsoe'er he is,

To make distinction:-Provide this messenger:-He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. Against his liking: Think you it is so?
Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Without the walls of Florence. A tucket afar off Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other citi

zens.

honourable service.

lady.

Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count, Reports but coarsely of her.

Hel.

Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
Hel.

What's his name?

Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the O, I believe with him, city, we shall lose all the sight. In argument of praise, or to the worth Dia. They say, the French count has done most of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated; all her deserving Wid. It is reported, that he has taken their Is a reserved honesty, and that greatest commander; and that with his own hand I have not heard examin'd. he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our la- Dia. Alas, poor lady! bour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you of a detesting lord." 'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife may know by their trumpets.

Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed

of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

Wid.

right good creature: wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do

her

A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have Ilel. How do you mean? been solicited by a gentleman, his companion. May be, the amorous count solicits her Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Pa- In the unlawful purpose. rolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions?

Wid.

He does, indeed;

for the young carl.-Beware of them, Diana; their And brokes with all that can in such a suit promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: engines of lust, are not the things they go under: But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard many a maid hath been seduced by them; and In honestest defence.

rentine army, Bertram, and Parolles.
Mar. The gods forbid else!
Wid.

the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Flothe wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is so lost.

Dia. You shall not need to fear me.

So, now they come :-
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That, Escalus.
Hel.
Which is the Frenchman?
Dia.

He;

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow; I would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honester, pil-He were much goodlier:-Is't not a handsome gentleman?

Enter Helena, in the dress of a pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.--Look, here comes a grim: I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another: I'll question her.God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound? Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand.

Where do the palmers' lodge, I do beseech you?

(1) Weigh, here means to value or esteem. (2) Temptations.

(3) They are not the things for which their names] would make them pass.

Hel. I like him well.

Dia. 'Tis pity he is not honest: Yond's that same knave,

That leads him to these places; were I his lady,

(4) Pilgrims; so called from a staff or bough of palm they were wont to carry.

(5) Because. (6) The exact, the entire truth, (7) Deals with panders,