If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you.

Your unfortunate Son,

Bertram.

This is not well; rafh and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of fo good a King,
To pluck his indignation on thy head;
By the mifprizing of a maid, too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.

Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O Madam, yonder is heavy news within between two foldiers and my young lady.

Count. What is the matter?

Clo. Nay, there is fome comfort in the news, fome comfort; your fon will not be kill'd fo foon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd?

Clo. So fay I, Madam, if he run away, as I hear he does; the danger is in ftanding to't; that's the lofs of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more. For my part, I only hear, your fon was run away.

SCENE III.

Enter Helena, and two Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Save you, good Madam.

Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gen. Do not fay fo.

Count. Think upon patience-'Pray you, gentlemen, I've felt fo many quirks of joy and grief,

That the firft face of neither, on the start,

Can woman me unto't. Where is my fon?

2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to ferve the Duke of

Florence.

We met him thitherward, for thence we came ;
And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on this letter, Madam; here's my passport.

When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off; and flew me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me bufband: but in fuch a Then I write a Never.

This is a dreadful fentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?

1 Gen. Ay, Madam, and, for the contents' fake are forry for our pains.

Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer.
If thou engroffeft all the griefs as thine,

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 Gent. Ay, Madam.

Count. And to be a foldier?

2 Gen. Such is his noble purpofe; 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 fwifteft wing of fpeed. Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter. [Reading.

Count. Find you that there?

When thou can't get the ring, upon my finger,] i. e. When thou canft get the ring, which is on my finger, into thy poffeffion. The Oxford Editor, who took it the other way, to fignify, when thou canst get it on upon my finger, very fagaciously alters it

to, when thou canst get the ring from my finger. WARBURTON.

I think Dr. Warburton's explanation fufficient, but I once read it thus, When thou canst get the ring upon thy finger, which never shall come off mine.

Z 2

Hel.

Hel. Yes, Madam.

1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not confenting to.

Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife?
There's nothing here, that is too good for him,
But only fhe; and fhe deferves a lord,

That twenty fuch rude boys might tend upon,
And call her hourly miftrefs. Who was with him?
1 Gen. A fervant only, and a gentleman
Which I have fome time known.
Count. Parolles, was't not?

1 Gen. Ay, my good lady, he.

Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness: Ny fon corrupts a well-derived nature

With his inducement.

1 Gen. 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, when you fee my fon, to tell him, that his sword can never win the honour that he lofes: more I'll intreat you written to bear along.

2 Gen. We ferve you, Madam, in that and all your worthieft affairs '.

Count. Not fo, but as we change our courtefies. Will you draw near?

9

[Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen.

a deal of that too much, which holds him much to have.] That is, his vices fland him in ftead. Helen had before deliver'd this thought in all the beauty of expreffion.

That they take place, while vir-
tue's freely bones

Look bleak in the cold wind
But the Oxford Editor reads,
Which 'hoves him not much to
bave.
WARBURTON.

The gentlemen declare that they are fervants to the Countefs; the replies, No otherwife than as fhe returns the fame offices of civility.

SCENE

SCENE IV.

Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Nothing in France, until he has no wife!

Thou shalt have none, Roufillon, none in France;
Then haft thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
That chafe thee from thy country, and expofe
Thofe tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-fparing war? and is it I,

That drive thee from the fportive court, where thou
Waft shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of Smoaky mufkets? O you leaden meffengers,]
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Fly with falfe aim; move the ftill-piercing air 2,
That fings with piercing, do not touch my lord:
Whoever fhoots 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 fo effected. Better 'twere,
I met the rav'ning lion when he roar'd

With fharp constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miferies, which nature owes,

Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Roufillon ;
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar;

As oft it lofes 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 paradife did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all; I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,

To confolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! For with the dark, poor thief, I'll fteal away. [Exit.

SCENE V.

Changes to the Duke's Court at Florence.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Drum and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles.

Duke.

HE General of our Horfe thou art, and

TH

we,

Great in our hope, lay our beft love and credence
Upon thy promifing fortune.

Ber. Sir, it is

A charge too heavy for my ftrength; but yet
We'll ftrive to bear it for your worthy fake,
To th' extream edge of hazard.

Duke. Then go forth,

And fortune play upon thy profp'rous helm,
As thy aufpicious mistress!

Ber. This very day,

Great Mars, I put myself into thy file;
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall
A lover of thy drum; hater of love.

Count.

A

Enter Countess and Steward.

prove
[Exeunt.

Las! and would you take the letter of her; Might you not know, fhe would do, as fhe has done,

By fending me a letter? Read it again.

LET