صور الصفحة
النشر الإلكتروني
[blocks in formation]

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, two French Lords,

with Soldiers.


that from point to point now have you

The fundamental reasons of this war,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth,
And more thirsts after.

i Lord. Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part; but black and fearful
On the opposer's.

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France
Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.

2 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
By self-unable motion; therefore dare not
Say what I think of it, since I have found

my incertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess’d.

Duke. Be it his pleasure.

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nation,
That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day,
Come here for physick.

Duke. Welcome shall they be:
And all the honours that can fly from us,

Myself in



Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fall :
To-morrow to the field.


[ocr errors]


[ocr errors]

Changes to Rousillon in France.

Enter Countess, and Clown.
T hath happen'd all as I would have had it, fave 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?

I Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and fing; mend his ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing. I knew 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


Clo. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our old ling, and our Isbels o'th'country, are nothing like your old ling, and your Ifbels o’th'court: the brain of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no ftomach.

Count. What have we here?
Clo. E'en that you have there. .

Countess reads a letter.
I have sent you a daughter-in-law : he hath recovered the king,
and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn
to make the not eternal. You sall 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 fon,




This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a king,
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
By the misprising of a maid, too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.

Enter Clown. Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two foldiers 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 kill'd 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, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell For my part, I only heard, your son was run away.

you more.


Enter Helena, and two Gentlemen.
1 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 start,
Can woman me unto't. Where is


fon? 2 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 this letter, madam, here's my passport.

TV hen thou canst get the ring from my finger, which never shall come off, and how me a child begotten of thy body that I


am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a


This is a dreadful sentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ?

1 Gen. 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 as thine,
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 Gen. 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

1 Gen. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

Hel. Till' I have no wife, I have nothing in France. [reading. 'Tis bitter.

Count. Find you that there ?
Hel. Yes, madam.

I Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, happily, 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 fervant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known.

Count. Parolles, was't not?
i Gen. Ay, my good lady, he.

Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness: my fon corrupts a well-deriv’d nature with his inducement.

I Gen.

i Gen. Indeed, good lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which ’hoves him not much to have.

Count. Y'are welcome, gentlemen; I will enţreat 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 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 ?

[Ex. Count, 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 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
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky musquets? O you leaden messengers, ,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim, pierce the still-moving air
That fings 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 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 :



« السابقةمتابعة »