Imatges de pÓgina

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 thither? 1 Gen. Ay, Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed,

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

(Reading Count. Find


that there? Hel. Yes, Madam.

i Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, happ'ly, 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 fhe; 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 some time known.

Count. Parolles, was't not?
1 Gen. Ay, my good Lady, he.

Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness :
My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.

i Gen. (27) Indeed, good Lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which holds him much to have. Count. Y'are welcome, Gentlemen ; I will intreat

you see my son, to tell him, that his sword

you, when

(27) Indeed, gsod Lady, the fellow bas a deal of that too much, qubich bolds him much to bave.] This is somewhat obscure in the expreflion; but the meaning must be this, The fellow, indeed, has à deal too much vanity, lying, boasting ; but it holds him much to have such qualities; i. c. it stands him in great stead, is of great service to him, and what he cannot do without. For these were the arts that Parolles used to get into Bertram's favour; and when once they were discover’d, he was set a-drift, and undone.

can )

can never win the honour that he loses : more ll intreat 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.

draw near? [Exeunt Count, and Gentlemen.
Hel. 'Till I have no wifi, I have nicthing in France,
Nothing in France, until he has no wife !
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France ;
Then halt 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-fparing war? and is it T,
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Waft shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoaky muskets? O you leaden meslengers,
That ride upon the violent fpeed of fire,
Fly with falle aim ; move the still-piercing air,
That fings with piercing, do not touch my Lord :
Whoever shoots at him, I fet him there.
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;
And tho' 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, Roufillor,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar ;
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 fight,
To confolate thine ear. 'Come, night; end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll Iteal away' [Exit.

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Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Drum

and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles."
Duke. HE general of our horse thou art, and we,
Upon thy promising, fortune.

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

Duke. Then go forth,
And fortune play upon thy prosp'rous 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. [Exeunta

SCENE changes to Roufillon in France.


Enter Countess and Steward:
Las! and would you take the letter of her ?


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has done,
By sending me a letter Read it again,

I am St. Jaques pilgrim, thither gone;

Ambitious love hath fo in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upor.,

With sainted vow my faults to have amended, Write, write, that from the bloody course of war

My deareft master, your dear fon, may hie; Bless hi at home

peace, whilft 1 from far His name with zealous fervour fan&tify.

His taken labours bid him me forgive ;

I, his despightful Juno, fent 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 fet him free.
Ah, what sharp ftings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, you did never lack advice fo much,
As letting her pass fo; had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus the hath prevented

Stew. Pardon, Madam,
If I had given you this at over-night
She might have been o'er ta'en ; and yet me writes,
Pursuit would be but vain..

Count. What angel fall
Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heav'n delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rynaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light : my greatest grief,
Tho' little he do feel it, let down Tharply.
Dispatch the most convenient messenger;
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing fo much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love. Which of them both
Is dearest to be, I've no skill in sense
To make diftin&tion; provide this messenger ;.
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and forrow bids me speak.

[Exeunti SCENE changes to a publick place in Florence.

: اور؟ ي م

214. S. CE N E (28) Their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of luft, are not the things they go under ;] i, e. They are not in reality so true and fincere, as in appearance they seem to be. This will be hest explain'd by another passage in Hamlet, where Polonius is counselling his daughter.

A Tucket afar off
Enter an old widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and

Mariana, with other citizens,
AY, come. For if they do approach the

Wid. N4Xy, we shall lose all the fight

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

Wid. It is reported, that he has ta'en 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 folliciced by a gentleman his companion.

Mar. I know that knave, (hang him !) one Parolles ; a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young Earl ; beware of them, Diana ; (28) their promises,

I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows. These blaxes, oh, my daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both
Ev’n in their promise as it is a making,
You must not take for fire.

In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers
Not of that dye which their investments fhew,
But mere implorers of unholy suits,
Breathing, like fanctified and hoiy bawds,
The better to beguile. -



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