Let that go: Ber. Well, what would you say? Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Ber. What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much: nothing, I would not tell you what I would, my lord: Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. Par. Bravely, coragio ! ACT III. SCENE I. Florence. The DUKE's palace. Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, attended; the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers. [Exeunt. Duke. So that from point to point now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war, 84. owe, own. 90 Whose great decision hath much blood let forth First Lord. On the opposer. Duke. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Sec. Lord. The reasons of our state I cannot yield, Duke. Be it his pleasure. First Lord. But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Good my lord, Duke. And all the honours that can fly from us well; Welcome shall they be ; II. outward, having no access to the counsels of government, an 'outsider.' When better fall, for your avails they fell: 12, 13. That the great figure of a council frames by self-unable You know your places [Flourish. Exeunt. 10 20 motion, that forms an idea of state council with his rude unaided intelligence. 22. avails, advantage. SCENE II. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. 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, with no stomach. Count. What have we here? Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. me. Count. [Reads] I have sent you a daughter-inlaw she hath recovered the king, and undone 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, 14. ling, i.e. Lenten food. To fly the favours of so good a king; 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 killed? 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, 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. [Exit. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. First Gent. Save you, good madam. Count. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentle men, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, We met him thitherward; for thence we came, 34. To merit an emperor's disdain. 40 50 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 show me 60 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? First Gent. Ay, madam; And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. Count. I prithee, 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? Sec. Gent. Ay, madam. Sec. Gent. Such is his And to be a soldier? believe 't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. Count. Return you thither? First 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. First 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! 69. moiety, share. 70 80 |