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.

[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

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.

3

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?
[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

(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

Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing 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 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 ravin4 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.

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 far,
His name with zealous fervour sanctify:
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 dog 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!-

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,
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,

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
To make distinction:-Provide this messenger:-
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.-Without the walls of Florence. A
tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Flo-
rence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other citi-

zens.

honourable service.

But till the troops come by,

will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; The rather, for, I think, I know your hostess, As ample as myself.

Hel.

Is it yourself?
Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim.
Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think, from France?

Пel.
I did so.
Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours,
That has done worthy service.
Hel.
His name, I pray you?
Dia. The count Rousillon: Know you such a one?
Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
His face I know not.
Dia.

Whatsoe'er he is,
He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
Against his liking: Think you it is so?
Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his
lady.

Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count,
Reports but coarsely of her.
What's his name?

Hel.

Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
Hel..

Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. 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.

O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth

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. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion.

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

her

A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.
Hel.

How do you mean?
May be, the amorous count solicits her

Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Pa- In the unlawful purpose.
Wid.

rolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions?

He does, indeed;

for the young earl.-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 :3 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 That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; no further danger known, but the modesty which That, Escalus. is so lost.

Dia. You shall not need to fear me.

Enter Helena, in the dress of a pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.--Look, here comes a pilgrim: 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.

I

Hel.

Dia.

So, now they come :-

Which is the Frenchman?

He;

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

Hel. I like him well.

the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so

Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something: Look, lost?-There was an excellent command! to he has spied us.

Wid. Marry, hang you!

Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!
[Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, officers, and
soldiers.

Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will
bring you

Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
Already at my house.

Hel.
I humbly thank you:
Please it this matron, and this gentle maid,
To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking,
Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts on this virgin,
Worthy the note.

Both. We'll take your offer kindly.
SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence.

charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.

Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.

Par. It might have been recovered.
Ber. It might, but it is not now.

Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.

Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, [Exe. if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native Enter quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.

Bertram, and the two French Lords. 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way.

2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.

4

1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. I Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will preknowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him sently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an in- in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparafinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, tion, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordBer. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you ship's entertainment. are gone about it?

2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you.

Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.

Ber. I know thou art valiant; and, to the possi bility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

Par. I love not many words.

[Exit.

1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will sud- is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares denly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am better be damned than to do't.

sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind 2 Lord.. You do not know him, my lord, as we and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal adversaries, when we bring him to our tents: Be of discoveries; but when you find him out, you but your lordship present at his examination; if he have him ever after.

do not, for the promise of his life, and in the high- Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed est compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, at all of this, that so seriously he does address himand deliver all the intelligence in his power against self unto?

you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon 1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. invention, and clap upon you two or three proba 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch ble lies: but we have almost embossed him,' you his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, your lordship's respect.

and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, be melted, if you give him not John Drum's enter-ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, he comes. tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.

Enter Parolles.

1 Lard. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not

1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.

(4) I will pen down my plans, and the probable (5) Hunted him down.

(1) A paltry fellow, a coward. (2) The camp. (3) I would recover the lost drum or another, or obstructions. die in the attempt.

(6) Strip him naked.

Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
1 Lord. As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,
[Exit. And lawful meaning in a lawful act;

Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:

SCENE I-Without the Florentine camp. Enter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in ambush.

1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge's corner: When you sally upon him, speak Exeunt. what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter: for we must not seem to understand him; unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

[Aside. [Alarum within.

1 Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
All. Cargo, cargo, villianda par carbo, cargo.
Par. O! ransome, ransome:-Do not hide mine
eyes.
[They seize him and blindfold him.
1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos.

Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment,
And I shall lose my life for want of language:
If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speak to me,
I will discover that which shall undo
The Florentine.

O, pray, pray, pray.-
Oscorbi dulchos volivorca.
1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet;
And, hood-wink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee: haply, thou may'st inform
Something to save thy life.

Par.
O, let me live,
And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,
Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that
Which you will wonder at.

1 Sold.

But wilt thou faithfully?|

Par. If I do not, damn me. 1 Sold.

Come on, thou art granted space.

[Exit, with Parolles guarded. 1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my brother,

Ay, so you serve us, Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness.

How have I sworn?

Ber.
Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the
truth;

But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.
What is not holy, that we swear not by,

But take the Highest to witness:2 Then, pray you,
tell me,

If I should swear by Jove's great attributes,
I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ill? this has no holding,
To swear by him whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him: Therefore, your oaths
Are words, and poor conditions; but unseal'd;
At least, in my opinion.

Ber.

Change it, change it;
Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy;
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts,
That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
But give thyself unto my sick desires,
Who then recover: Say, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so perséver.

Dia. I see that men make hopes in such affairs,
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.

Dia.

Dia.
Will you not, my lord?
Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Acordo linta.-Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
In me to lose.
Mine honour's such a ring:
My chastity's the jewel of our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
In me to lose: Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part,
Against your vain assault.
Ber.
Here, take my ring:
My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,"
And I'll be bid by thee.

We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled,

Till we do hear from them.

Captain, I will.

2 Sold. 1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves;Inform 'em that. 2 Sold.

So I will, sir.

1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd. [Exeunt. SCENE IL-Florence. A room in the Widow's house. Enter Bertram and Diana.

Ber. They told me, that your name was Fon-
tibell.

Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber.

Titled goddess;
And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument:
When you are dead, you should be such a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet self was got.

Dia. She then was honest.

(1) i. e. Against his determined resolution never to cohabit with Helena.

Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my cham-
ber window;

I'll order take, my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
My reasons are most strong; and you shall know
them,

When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that, what in time proceeds,
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, till then; then, fail not; you have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won, by wooing
thee.
[Exit.
Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven
and me!

(2) The sense is-we never swear by what is not holy, but take to witness the Highest, the Divinity.