That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, Count. 1 Gent. 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. 1 Gent. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen. 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 Of the none-sparing war? And is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 1 This passage as it stands is very obscure; something appears to be omitted after much. Warburton interprets it, "That his vices stand him in stead of virtues." 2 The countess answers-no otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; I met the ravin1 lion when he roared With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, As oft it loses all. I will be gone: My being here it is that holds thee hence. To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! [Exit. SCENE III. Florence. Before the Duke's Palace Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, BERTRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others. Duke. The 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 To the extreme edge of hazard. Duke. Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, 1 That is, the ravenous or ravening lion. 2 The sense is, "From that place, where all the advantages that honor usually reaps from the danger it rushes upon, is only a scar in testimony of its bravery, as, on the other hand, it often is the cause of losing all, even life itself." Ber. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall prove [Exeunt! SCENE IV. Rousillon. 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. 1 Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; 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, 1 At Orleans was a church dedicated to St. Jaques, to which pilgrims formerly used to resort, to adore a part of the cross pretended to be found there. See Heylin's France Painted to the Life, 1656, p. 270—6. 2 Alluding to the story of Hercules. 3 i. e. discretion or thought. |