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If there be breadth enough in the world, I will bolde long distance. My duty to you.

Your unfortunate Son,

Bertram.

This is not well; rash and unbridled boy,
To Ay 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.

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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, fome confort; your son will not be killd fo foon 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 lofs 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.

SCENE III.

Enter Helena, and two Gentlemen.

i 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've felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the ftart,
Can woman me unto't. Where is my son ?

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2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of

Florence.
We met him thitherward, for thence we came ;
And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on this letter, Madam ; here's my passport.

8 When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which

never shall come off ; and jew me a child begotten
of thy body that I am father to, then call me buil-

band: but in such a Then I write a Never. This is a dreadful fentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ?

i Gen. Ay, Madam, and, for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains.

Count. I prythee, lady, have a better cheer.
If thou engrossest all the griefs as chine,
Thou robb’ft 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 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? i Gen. Ay, Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter.

[Reading Count. Find you that there?

* When thou can I get the ring, to, when there can get the ring upon my finger,] i.e. When thou from my finger. WARBURTON. canst get the ring, which is on I think Dr. Warburton's exmy finger, into ihy posseffion. planation fufficient, but I once The Oxford Editor, who took it read it thus, When theu conft get the other way, to signify, when the ring upon thy finger, which thou canst get it on upon my

never jhall come of mine. foger, very fagaciously alters it

Z 2

Hel.

Hel. Yes, Madam.

I 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, 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 ?

i 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 wickednefs :
Ny son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.

i Gen. Indeed, good lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which holds him much to have

Count. Y'are welcome, gentlemen; I will intreat you, when you see my son, to tell him, that his sword can never win the honour that he loses : more I'll intreat 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? [Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen.

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- a deal of that too much, That they take place, while vir. which holds him much 10 bave. ] tue's steely benes That is, his vices fland him in Look bleak in the cold wind stead. Helen had before deliver'd But the Oxford Editor reads, this thought in all the beauty of Which 'hoves him not much to expression.

have.

WARBURTON, I know him a notorious The gentlemen declare that lyar;

they are servants to the Courtifs ; Think bim a great way fool, solely the replies, No o herwise than as a coword;

she returns the same offices of Yet tbele fixt evils fit fo fit in him, civility.

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SCENE

S S CE N E IV.

Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Nothing in France, until he has no wife! Thou shall have none, Rousillon, none in France ; Then haft 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 Waft shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoaky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with falle 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 tho' I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected. Better 'twere, I met the rav’ning 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 fight,

move the ftill-piercing pierce the still-moving air, air,

That fings with piercing, That fings with piercing, -] i.e. pierce the air, which is in The words are here odly shuffled perpetual motion, and suffers no into nonsense. We should read, injury by piercing. WARB.

To confolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day! For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. (Exit.

SCENE V.

Changes to the Duke's Court at Florence.

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Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Drum

and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles. Duke. HE 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
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy fake,
To th' extream edge of hazard.

Duke. Then go forth,
And fortune play upon thy prosp?rous 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.

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Count. Las! and would you take the letter of her;

Might you not know, the would do, as

she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again.

A A

L T.

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