But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? 2 Gen Ay, Madam. Count. And to be a soldier?. ↑ Gen. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe't, The Duke will lay upon him all the honour Count. Return you hither? 1 Gen. Ay, Madam, with the swiftest wing of Hel. [Reads.] 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. "Tis bitter. Count. Find you that there? Hel. Ay, Madam. 1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which His heart was not consenting to. Count. 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? 1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have some time known. Count. Parolles, was't not? 1 Gen. Ay, my good Lady, he. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son 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 You are welcome, Gentlemen, 2 I will entreat you, when you see my son, 2 Gen. 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, Of the uone sparing war? and is it I . That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at by fair eyes, to be the mark I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rou sillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, My being here it is, that holds thee hence: To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! [Exit. SCENE. III. Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, BERTRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and Others. Duke. The General of our horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and cre dence, Upon thy promising fortune. Ber. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet Duke. Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous heim, Ber. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy files Make me but like my thoughts; and shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. 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 Jaques' 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 peace, whilst I from for His name with zealous fervour sanctify; 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; Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, Stew. Pardon me, Madam: ་་་་ If I had given you this at overnight, She might have been o'eria'en; and yet she Of greatest justice.o Write, write, Rinaldo, 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. ger Provide this messen My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. [Exeunt. |