The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
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you
Written to bear along.
FIRST 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 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.]
SCENE 3. Florence. Before the DUKE’s palace.
[Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Lords,
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.
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 4. Rousillon. A room in the COUNTESS’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 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.’
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’er ta’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 5. Without the walls of Florence.
[Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, MARIANA, and 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