Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell,

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.

Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my
lord.

Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?— ||
Farewell.
[Exit Helena.
Go thou toward home; where I will never come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum :-
Away, and for our flight.
Par.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our na- Can woman6 me unto't ::-Where is my son, I pray

Thither we bend again.

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

[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,2
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?

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!
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 wick-
edness.

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 our courtesies.3
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

(1) 1. e. When you can get the ring, which is on my finger, into your possession.

(2) If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself. (3) In reply to the gentlemen's declaration, that they are her servants, the countess answers-no

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-piecing 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, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 'twere,
I met the ravin1 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 sear,
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 flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[Exit.

Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake,
To the extreme edge of hazard.
Duke.

Then go thou forth;
And fortune play upon thy prosperous 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.
SCENE IV.-Rousillon. A room in the Coun-
tess's 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.

Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gones
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war,
My dearest master, your dear son may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far,
His name with zealous fervour sanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

From courtly friends, with camping foes to live,
I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
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 advices so much, otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility.

(4) Ravenous.

(5) Alluding to the story of Hercules.
(6) Discretion or thought.

As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus she hath prevented.

Stew.

Pardon me, madam :
If I had given you this at over-night,
She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes,
Pursuit would be in vain.

Count.
What angels shall
Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to hear,||
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Despatch the most convenient messenger :-
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love: which of them both,
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
To make distinction :-Provide this messenger:-
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
[Exeunt.

SCENE V-Without the walls of Florence.
A tucket afar off Enter an old Widow of
Florence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other
citizens.

Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight.

Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable service.

Wid. It is reported, that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets.

Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion.

Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions2 for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their|| promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under :3 many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which

is so lost.

Dia. You shall not need to fear me.

Enter Helena, in the dress of a pilgrim.
Wid. I hope so.-
-Look, here comes a pil-
grim: I know she will lie at my house: thither
they send one another: I'll question her.---
God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?
Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand.
Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?

(1) Weigh, here means to value or esteem.
(2) Temptations.

(3) They are not the things for which their names would make them pass.

Dia.
He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
Against his liking: Think you it is so?

Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his
lady.

Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count, Reports but coarsely of her.

Hel.

Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
Hel.

What's his name?

O, I believe with him,
In argument of praise, or to the worth
of the great count himself, she is too mean
To have her name repeated; all her deserving
Is a reserved honesty, and that
I have not heard examin'd.
Dia.

Alas, poor lady!
'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife
Of a detesting lord.

Wid. A right good creature: wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do

her

A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.
Hel.
How do you mean?
May be, the amorous count solicits her
In the unlawful purpose.

Wid.
He does, indeed;
And brokes with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard
In honestest defence.

Enter with drum and colours, a party of the
Florentine army, Bertram, and Parolles.
Mar. The gods forbid else!
Wid.
So, now they come :-
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That, Escalus.
Which is the Frenchman?

Hel.
Dia.

He;

Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something: Look, lost?-There was an excellent command! to he has spied us.

Wid. Marry, hang you!

Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!
[Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, officers, and
soldiers.

Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will
bring you

Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
Already at my house.

Hel.
I humbly thank you :
Please it this matron, and this gentle maid,
To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking,
Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts on this virgin,
Worthy the note.
Both.
SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence. Enter
Bertram, and the two French Lords.

We'll take your offer kindly. [Exe.

charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.

Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.

Par. It might have been recovered.
Ber. It might, but it is not now.

Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.3

Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his hild-greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.

1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way.

2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a ing, hold me no more in your respect.

Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas,4 encourage myself my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it?

1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. Ber. Dayou think I am so far deceived in him? 1 Lor Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infi-in nite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment.

2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you.

Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.

Ber. I know thou art valiant; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

Par. I love not many words.

better be damned than to do't."

[Exit.

2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after.

1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will sud-is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares denly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer2 of the adversaries, when we bring him to our tents: Be but your lordship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing.

2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here

he comes.

Enter Parolles.

1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not

(1) A paltry fellow, a coward. (2) The camp. (3) I would recover the lost drum or another, or die in the attempt.

Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto?

1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three proba. ble lies: but we have almost embossed him, you shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect.

2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.

1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.

(4) I will pen down my plans, and the probable obstructions.

(5) Hunted him down. (6) Strip him naked.