Enter Helena and two Gentlemen. 1 Gen. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, 2 Gen. Do not say so. for ever gone. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gentle men, I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, Can woman me unto't:-Where is my son, I pray you? 2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: We met him thitherward; for thence we came, Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my pass port. [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 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 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? 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 thither? 1 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. 1 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, And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him? 1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have some time known. Count. 1 Gen. Ay, my good lady, he. Parolles, was't not? Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wicked ness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. 1 Gen. 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, 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? [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, Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rou sillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, My being here it is, that holds thee hence: To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! SCENE III. [Exit. 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. Then go thou forth; Duke. 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 COUNTESS'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, Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, Which thus she hath prevented. Stew. Pardon me, madam: |