End ere I do begin.
Aside
LAFEW A good traveller is something27 at the latter
end of a dinner, but one that lies three thirds28 and uses a
known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be
once heard and thrice beaten.-- God save you, captain.
To Parolles
BERTRAM Is there any unkindness31 between my lord
and you, monsieur?
PAROLLES I know not how I have deserved to run into my
lord's displeasure.
LAFEW You have made shift35 to run into't, boots and spurs
and all, like him that leapt into the custard.36 And out of it
you'll run again, rather than suffer question37 for your
residence.38
BERTRAM It may be you have mistaken39 him, my lord.
LAFEW And shall do so ever, though I took him at's prayers.
Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be
no kernel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes.
Trust him not in matter of heavy43 consequence. I have kept of
them tame44, and know their natures.-- Farewell, monsieur. I
have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve45 at
my hand, but we must do good against evil.
[Exit]
PAROLLES An idle47 lord, I swear.
BERTRAM I think so.
PAROLLES Why, do you not know49 him?
BERTRAM Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.51
Enter Helena [with an attendant]
HELEN I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king and have procured his leave
For present parting54, only he desires
Some private speech with you.
BERTRAM I shall obey his will.
You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time58, nor does
The ministration and required office59
On my particular. Prepared I was not
For such a business: therefore am I found
So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse64 than ask why I entreat you,
For my respects65 are better than they seem
And my appointments66 have in them a need
Greater than shows itself at the first view
To you that know them not. This to my mother.
Gives a letter
'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so
I leave you to your wisdom.
HELEN Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
BERTRAM Come, come, no more of that.
HELEN And ever shall
With true observance seek to eke out75 that
Wherein toward me my homely stars76 have failed
To equal my great fortune.77
BERTRAM Let that go.
My haste is very great. Farewell. Hie79 home.
HELEN Pray, sir, your pardon.
BERTRAM Well, what would you say?
HELEN I am not worthy of the wealth I owe82,
Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is.
But, like a timorous thief, most fain84 would steal
What law does vouch85 mine own.
BERTRAM What would you have?
HELEN Something, and scarce so much: nothing, indeed.
I would88 not tell you what I would, my lord.
Faith yes:
Strangers and foes do sunder90, and not kiss.
BERTRAM I pray you stay91 not, but in haste to horse.
HELEN I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.--
To Attendant
Where are my other men?--
Monsieur, farewell.
Exit
BERTRAM Go thou toward home, where I will never come
Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.
Away, and for our flight.
PAROLLES Bravely, corragio98!
[Exeunt]
Act 3 [Scene 1]
running scene 7
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen [First and Second Lords Dumaine] with a troop of Soldiers
DUKE So that from point to point1 now have you heard
The fundamental reasons of this war,
Whose great decision3 hath much blood let forth
And more thirsts after.
FIRST LORD Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part, black6 and fearful
On the opposer.7
Would in so just a business shut his bosom9
Against our borrowing prayers.10
SECOND LORD Good my lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yield12,
But like a common and an outward man13
That the great figure of a council frames14
By self-unable motion15: therefore dare not
Say what I think of it, since I have found
Myself in my incertain grounds to fail
As often as I guessed.
DUKE Be it his pleasure.19
FIRST LORD But I am sure the younger of our nature20,
That surfeit on their ease21, will day by day
Come here for physic.22
DUKE Welcome shall they be,
And all the honours that can fly from24 us
Shall on them settle. You know your places well.
When better fall, for your avails26 they fell.
Tomorrow to th'field.
Flourish [Exeunt]
[Act 3 Scene 2]
running scene 8
Enter Countess and Clown [Lavatch]
COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save
that he comes not along with her.
LAVATCH By my troth3, I take my young lord to be a very
melancholy man.
COUNTESS By what observance5, I pray you?
LAVATCH Why, he will look upon his boot and sing: mend6 the
ruff and sing: ask questions and sing: pick his teeth and sing.
I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold8 a goodly
manor for a song.
Opens a letter
COUNTESS Let me see what he writes, and when
he means to come.
LAVATCH I have no mind to12 Isbel since I was at court. Our old
lings13 and our Isbels o'th'country are nothing like your old
ling and your Isbels o'th'court. The brains14 of my Cupid's
knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money,
with no stomach.16
COUNTESS What have we here?
LAVATCH E'en18 that you have there.
Exit
COUNTESS
[Reads] a letter
'I have sent you a daughter-in-law. She hath recovered19 the
king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her,
and sworn to make the "not"21 eternal. You shall hear I am
run away: know it before the report come. If there be
breadth enough in the world, I will hold23 a long distance. My
duty to you. Your unfortunate son, Bertram.'
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy.
To fly26 the favours of so good a king,
To pluck his indignation on thy head
By the misprizing28 of a maid too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.29
Enter Clown [Lavatch]
LAVATCH O, madam, yonder is heavy news within30, between
two soldiers and my young lady!
COUNTESS What is the matter?
LAVATCH Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some
comfort. Your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he
would.
COUNTESS Why should he be killed?
LAVATCH So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does.
The danger is in standing to't.38 That's the loss of men, though
it be the getting39 of children. Here they come will tell you
more. For my part, I only hear your son was run away.
[He may exit]
Enter Helen and two Gentlemen [First and Second Lords Dumaine]
SECOND LORD Save41 you, good madam.
HELEN Madam, my lord is gone, forever gone.
FIRST LORD Do not say so.
COUNTESS Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen,
I have felt so many quirks45 of joy and grief
That the first face of neither, on the start46
Can woman47 me unto't. Where is my son, I pray you?
FIRST LORD Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence:
We met him thitherward, for thence49 we came,
And after some dispatch in hand50 at court,
Thither we bend51 again.
Shows a letter
HELEN Look on his letter, madam, here's my passport.52
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.56
COUNTESS Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
FIRST LORD Ay, madam, and for the contents' sake are sorry for
our pains.
COUNTESS I prithee, lady, have a better cheer.60
If thou engrossest all the griefs are61 thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety62: he was my son,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,
And thou art all my64 child. Towards Florence is he?
FIRST LORD Ay, madam.
COUNTESS And to be a soldier?
FIRST LORD Such is his noble purpose, and believe't,
The duke will lay upon him all the honour
That good convenience69 claims.
COUNTESS Return you thither?
SECOND LORD Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
Reads
HELEN 'Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.'
'Tis bitter.
COUNTESS Find you that there?
HELEN Ay, madam.
SECOND LORD 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply76, which his
heart was not consenting to.
COUNTESS 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 rude81 boys might tend upon
And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him?
SECOND LORD A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I have sometime known.
COUNTESS Parolles, was it not?
SECOND LORD Ay, my good lady, he.
COUNTESS A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
My son corrupts a well-derived88 nature
With his inducement.89
SECOND LORD Indeed, good lady,
The fellow has a deal of that91 too much,
Which holds him much to have.92
COUNTESS You're 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
Written97 to bear along.
FIRST LORD We serve you, madam,
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
COUNTESS Not so, but as we change100 our courtesies.
Will you draw near?101
Exeunt [all but Helen]
HELEN 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Thou shalt have none, Rossillion104, 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 event107
Of the none-sparing war? And is it I
That drive thee from the sportive109 court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark110
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers111
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim, move the still-peering113 air
That sings114 with piercing. Do not touch my lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there.115
Whoever charges on his forward116 breast,
I am the caitiff117 that do hold him to't,
And though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected. Better 'twere
I met the ravin120 lion when he roared
With sharp constraint121 of hunger: better 'twere
That all the miseries which nature owes122
Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rossillion,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar124,
As oft it loses all.125 I will be gone:
My being here it is that holds thee hence.
Shall I stay here to do't? No, no, although127
The air of paradise did fan the house
And angels officed all.129 I will be gone,
That pitiful130 rumour may report my flight,
To consolate131 thine ear. Come night, end day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal132 away.
Exit
[Act 3 Scene 3]
running scene 9
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion [Bertram], Drum and Trumpets, soldiers, Parolles
DUKE The general of our horse thou art, and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence2
Upon thy promising fortune.
BERTRAM Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake
To th'extreme edge7 of hazard.
DUKE Then go thou forth,
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm9
As thy auspicious mistress!
BERTRAM This very day,
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file.12
Make me but like my thoughts13, and I shall prove
A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
Exeunt
[Act 3 Scene 4]
running scene 10
Enter Countess and Steward [Reynaldo]
COUNTESS Alas! And would you take the letter of1 her?
Might you not know she would do as she has done,
By sending me a letter? Read it again.
REYNALDO
[Reads the] letter
'I am Saint Jaques4' pilgrim, thither gone.
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted7 vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that from the bloody course of war
My dearest master, your dear son, may hie.9
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far
His name with zealous fervour sanctify.
His taken12 labours bid him me forgive.
I, his despiteful Juno13, sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping14 foes to live
Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth.
He is too good and fair for death and me,
Whom17 I myself embrace, to set him free.'
COUNTESS Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!
Reynaldo, you did never lack advice19 so much,
As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus she hath prevented.22
REYNALDO Pardon me, madam.
If I had given you this at overnig
ht24,
She might have been o'erta'en, and yet she writes
Pursuit would be but vain.
COUNTESS What angel shall
Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom29 heaven delights to hear
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice. Write, write, Reynaldo,
To this unworthy husband32 of his wife.
Let every word weigh heavy of33 her worth
That he does weigh too light. My greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Dispatch the most convenient messenger.
When haply37 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 sense41
To make distinction. Provide42 this messenger.
My heart is heavy and mine age is weak.
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
Exeunt
[Act 3 Scene 5]
running scene 11
A tucket afar off. Enter old Widow of Florence, her daughter [Diana], and Mariana with other Citizens
WIDOW Nay, come, for if they do approach the city, we shall
lose all2 the sight.
DIANA They say the French count has done most
honourable service.
WIDOW It is reported that he has taken their5 greatest
commander, and that with his own hand he slew the duke's
brother.
Tucket
We have lost our labour. They are gone a contrary way.
Hark! You may know by their trumpets.
MARIANA Come, let's return again, and suffice10 ourselves with
the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl.11
The honour of a maid is her name12, and no legacy is so rich as
honesty.13
WIDOW I have told my neighbour how you have been
solicited15 by a gentleman his companion.
MARIANA I know that knave, hang him! One Parolles: a filthy
officer he is in those suggestions for17 the young earl. Beware
of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens
and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go19
under. Many a maid hath been seduced by them, and the
misery is example that so terrible shows in the wreck of21
maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession22, but
that they are limed23 with the twigs that threatens them. I
hope I need not to advise you further, but I hope your own
grace will keep you where you are, though25 there were no
further danger known but the modesty which is so lost.26
DIANA You shall not need to fear27 me.
Enter Helen [disguised as a pilgrim]
WIDOW I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will
lie29 at my house: thither they send one another. I'll question
her.-- God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?