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Whilst I
can shake

my sword, or hear the drum:
Away, and for our flight.
Par.

Bravely, coragio!

[Exeunt

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

Florence. A Room in the Duke's Palace.

On the opposer.

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 mpre

thirsts after.
1 Lord.

Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part ; black and fearful
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,
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.

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2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our' na

ture,
That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day,
Come here for physick.
Duke.

Welcome shall they be;
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, stomach.

Count. What have we here?
Clo. E'en that you have there.

[Exit.

with no

? The folding at the top of the boot.

Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-inlaw: 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,

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.

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 ?

Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does. Here they come, will tell you more : for my part, I only hear, your son was run away.

[Exit Clown.

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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,
Can woman me unto't: Where is my son, I pray

you?
VOL. III.

U

2 Gent. 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 his letter, madam; here's

my passa
port.
[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 ?
1 Gent.

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 Gent. Ay, madam.
Count.

And to be a soldier ?
2 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?
I 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. 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!

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ness.

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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 wicked-
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 3 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
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air,

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3 Exchange.

no wife!

U 2

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