Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on this letter, madam; here's my Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark

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.
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) i. 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
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing 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 ravin' 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:
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 Jagues' pilgrim, thither gone;
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

His name with zealouse, whilst I from far,
fervour sanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;
I, his despiteful Juno, sent 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 set him free.

Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest
words!-

Rinaldo, you did never lack advice 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'ertaken; 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 Flo-
rence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other citi-

zens.

But till the troops come by,

I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd;
The rather, for, I think, I know your hostess,
As ample as myself.

Hel.

Is it yourself?
Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim.

Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think, from France?
Hel.
I did so.
Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours,
That has done worthy service.

Hel.
His name, I pray you?
Dia. The count Rousillon: Know you such a one?
Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
His face I know not.

Dia.

Whatsoe'er he is,
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?

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 of the great count himself, she is too mean honourable service. To have her name repeated; all her deserving Wid. It is reported, that he has taken their Is a reserved honesty, and that greatest commander; and that with his own hand I have not heard examin'd. he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our la

O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth

Dia.

Alas, poor lady!

bour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you of a detesting lord.
'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife
may know by their trumpets.

Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice our- Wid. A right good creature: wheresoe'er she is, selves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do

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.

her

A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

Hel.
How do you mean?
May be, the amorous count solicits her

Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Pa- In the unlawful purpose.
Wid.

rolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions?

He does, indeed;

for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their And brokes" with all that can in such a suit promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: engines of lust, are not the things they go under: But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard many a maid hath been seduced by them; and In honestest defence.

rentine army, Bertram, and Parolles.

the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Flothe 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 Wid. will keep you where you are, though there were That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; no further danger known, but the modesty which That, Escalus. 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 pilgrim: 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 palmers1 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.

I

Mar. The gods forbid else!

So, now they come :

Which is the Frenchman?

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow; would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honester, He were much goodlier:-Is't not a handsome gentleman?

Hel. I like him well.

Dia. 'Tis pity he is not honest: Yond's that same knave,

That leads him to these places; were I his lady,

(4) Pilgrims; so called from a staff or bough of palm they were wont to carry.

(5) Because. (6) The exact, the entire truth. (7) Deals with panders.

the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so

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. We'll take your offer kindly.
SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence.
Bertram, and the two French Lords.

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 truc and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.

Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur [Exe. if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native Enter quarter, be inagnanimous 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 greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.

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

? Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding,' hold me no more in your respect.

1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble.

Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will pre knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him sently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an in- in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparafinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, tion, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordBer. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you ship's entertainment. are gone about it?

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.

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 possi bility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

Par. I love not many words.

[Exit.

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows

to do.

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 better be damned than to do't.

sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind 2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a other but that he is carried into the leaguer2 of the man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal adversaries, when we bring him to our tents: Be of discoveries; but when you find him out, you but your lordship present at his examination; if he have him ever after.

do not, for the promise of his life, and in the high- Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed est compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, at all of this, that so seriously he does address himand deliver all the intelligence in his power against self unto? you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul oath, never trust my judgment in any thing.

upon

1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three proba 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch ble lics. but we have almost embossed him, you his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, your lordship's respect.

and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, be melted, if you give him not John Drum's enter-ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here 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.

be comes.

Enter Parolles.

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

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

(4) I will pen down my plans, and the probable (5) Hunted him down.

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

(6) Strip him naked

Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, 1 Lord. As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, [Exit. And lawful meaning in a lawful act;

Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:

[Aside. I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows: '
enemy's; I was compell'd to her: but I love thee
By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.
Ay, so you serve us,
Till we serve you: but when you have our roses,
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,
And mock us with our bareness.
Ber.
How have I sworn?
Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the
truth;

Dia. Will you not, my lord? Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Acordo linta.-Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world In me to lose. Mine honour's such a ring: My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world In me to lose: Thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion honour on my part, Against your vain assault.