Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army, Bertram and Parolles.-Act III. Sc. 5. ACT III. Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two French Duke. So that, from point to point, now have you heard Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after. First 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. Second 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 As often as I guess'd. Duke. Be it his pleasure. Second 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; To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the house of the Countess. 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,1 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 D out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. Count. What have we here? Clo. E'en that you have there. [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. My duty to you. 'Your unfortunate Son, This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, Re-enter Clown. 'BERTRAM.' 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: the danger is in standing to 't; that's the loss of men. 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. First Gen. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Second 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? Second Gen. 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 passport. [Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and shew 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? Ay, madam; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,2 And thou art all my child.-Towards Florence is he? Count. And to be a soldier? Second 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? First 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. First 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, Count. First Gen. Ay, my good lady, he. Parolles, was 't not? Count. A very tainted fellow and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. First Gen. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that—too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen, The honour that he loses : more I'll entreat you Written to bear along. Second 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. 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 |