Return you thither?
First Gentleman
Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
Helena
[Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.
’Tis bitter.
Countess
Find you that there?
Helena
Ay, madam.
First Gentleman
’Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, 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 rude boys might tend upon
And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him?
First Gentleman
A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I have sometime known.
Countess
Parolles, was it not?
First Gentleman
Ay, my good lady, he.
Countess
A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.
First Gentleman
Indeed, good lady,
The fellow has a deal of that too much,
Which holds him much to have.
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
Written to bear along.
Second Gentleman
We serve you, madam,
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
Countess
Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
Will you draw near!
Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen
Helena
‘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
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-peering 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’t;
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 officed 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
SCENE III. FLORENCE. BEFORE THE DUKE’S PALACE.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Parolles, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets
Duke
The general of our horse thou art; and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
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 the extreme edge of hazard.
Duke
Then go thou forth;
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
As thy auspicious mistress!
Bertram
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. THE COUNT’S PALACE.
Enter Countess and Steward
Countess
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.
Steward
[Reads] I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone:
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That barefoot 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 peace, whilst I from far
His name with zealous fervor 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 dogs the heels of worth:
He is too good and fair for death and me:
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
Countess
Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!
Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus she hath prevented.
Steward
Pardon me, madam:
If I had given you this at over-night,
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, 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.
Dispatch 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. FLORENCE. WITHOUT THE WALLS. A TUCKET AFAR OFF.
Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and Mariana, with other Citizens
Widow
Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight.
Diana
They say the French count has done most honourable service.
Widow
It is reported that he has taken their 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 suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of t
his French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.
Widow
I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion.
Mariana
I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the 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 will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost.
Diana
You shall not need to fear me.
Widow
I hope so.
Enter Helena, disguised like a Pilgrim
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?
Helena
To Saint Jaques le Grand.
Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
Widow
At the Saint Francis here beside the port.
Helena
Is this the way?
Widow
Ay, marry, is’t.
A march afar
Hark you! they come this way.
If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,
But till the troops come by,
I will conduct you where you shall be lodged;
The rather, for I think I know your hostess
As ample as myself.
Helena
Is it yourself?
Widow
If you shall please so, pilgrim.
Helena
I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Widow
You came, I think, from France?
Helena
I did so.
Widow
Here you shall see a countryman of yours
That has done worthy service.
Helena
His name, I pray you.
Diana
The Count Rousillon: know you such a one?
Helena
But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
His face I know not.
Diana
Whatsome’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?
Helena
Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady.
Diana
There is a gentleman that serves the count
Reports but coarsely of her.
Helena
What’s his name?
Diana
Monsieur Parolles.
Helena
O, I believe with him,
In argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the great count himself, she is too mean
To have her name repeated: all her deserving
Is a reserved honesty, and that
I have not heard examined.
Diana
Alas, poor lady!
’Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a detesting lord.
Widow
I warrant, good creature, wheresoe’er she is,
Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
A shrewd turn, if she pleased.
Helena
How do you mean?
May be the amorous count solicits her
In the unlawful purpose.
Widow
He does indeed;
And brokes with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
But she is arm’d for him and keeps her guard
In honestest defence.
Mariana
The gods forbid else!
Widow
So, now they come:
Drum and Colours
Enter Bertram, Parolles, and the whole army
That is Antonio, the duke’s eldest son;
That, Escalus.
Helena
Which is the Frenchman?
Diana
He;
That with the plume: ’tis a most gallant fellow.
I would he loved his wife: if he were honester
He were much goodlier: is’t not a handsome gentleman?
Helena
I like him well.
Diana
’Tis pity he is not honest: yond’s that same knave
That leads him to these places: were I his lady,
I would Poison that vile rascal.
Helena
Which is he?
Diana
That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?
Helena
Perchance he’s hurt i’ the battle.
Parolles
Lose our drum! well.
Mariana
He’s shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us.
Widow
Marry, hang you!
Mariana
And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!
Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, and army
Widow
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.
Helena
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 of this virgin
Worthy the note.
Both
We’ll take your offer kindly.
Exeunt
SCENE VI. CAMP BEFORE FLORENCE.
Enter Bertram and the two French Lords
Second Lord
Nay, good my lord, put him to’t; let him have his way.
First Lord
If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.
Second Lord
On my life, my lord, a bubble.
Bertram
Do you think I am so far deceived in him?
Second Lord
Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he’s a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship’s entertainment.
First 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.
Bertram
I would I knew in what particular action to try him.
First Lord
None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.
Second Lord
I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing.
First Lord
O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for’t: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in’t, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum’s
entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.
Enter Parolles
Second Lord
[Aside to Bertram] O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand.
Bertram
How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.
First Lord
A pox on’t, let it go; ’tis but a drum.
Parolles
‘But a drum’! is’t ‘but a drum’? A drum so lost! There was excellent command,— to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers!
First Lord
That was not to be blamed in the command of the service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.
Bertram
Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.
Parolles
It might have been recovered.
Bertram
It might; but it is not now.
Parolles
It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or ’hic jacet.’
Bertram
Why, if you have a stomach, to’t, monsieur: if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise 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.
Parolles
By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.
Bertram
But you must not now slumber in it.
Parolles
I’ll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me.
Bertram
May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?
Parolles
I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.
Bertram
I know thou’rt valiant; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
Parolles
I love not many words.
Exit
Second Lord
No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do and dares better be damned than to do’t?
First Lord
You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is that he will steal himself into a man’s favour and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after.
Bertram
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