ACT III. SCENE I. Florence. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attended; two French O that, from point to point, now have you The fundamental reasons of this war; Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. 2 Lord. Duke. Be it his pleasure. I cannot yield, i. e. I cannot inform you of the reasons. 2 An outward man, i. e. one not in the secret of affairs: so inard in a contrary sense. By self-unable motion. Warburton and Upton are of opinion we should read, "By self-unable notion," and the context s to favour this correction. 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physick. Duke. Welcome shall they be; And all the honours, that can fly from us, Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell. To-morrow to the field. SCENE II. Rousillon. [Flourish. Exeunt. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that he comes not along with her. Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. Count. By what observance, I pray you? Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff1, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song. Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. [Opening a Letter. Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court; our old ling and our Isbels o'the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o'the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. Count. What have we here? The younger of our nature. This may mean, as we say at present, our young fellows; but it is most probably a misprint for nation. The tops of the boots in Shakespeare's time turned down, and hung loosely over the leg. The folding part or top was the ruff. It was of softer leather than the boot, and often fringed. 2 The old copy has hold. This is the reading of the third folio. Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. 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; rash and unbridled boy, Re-enter Clown. Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter? Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be killed? Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gent. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gentle men,― I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Flo rence: We met him thitherward; for, thence we came, Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. [Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my fingera, 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 ! Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? 1 Gent. Ay, madam; And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains. Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine1, Thou robb'st 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 soldier? 2 Gent. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. Count. Return you thither? 1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. Hel. [Reads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 3 Can woman me, i. e. affect me suddenly and deeply, as our sex are usually affected. a i, e. obtain or get the ring which is upon my finger. All the griefs are thine, i. e. if thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself: an elliptical expression for "all the griefs that are thine." 1 Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which His heart was not consenting to. Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, Count. 1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. Parolles, was't not? Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. 1 Gent. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. Y'are welcome, gentlemen, I will entreat you, when you see my son, The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you 2 Gent. We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. 5 This passage as it stands is very obscure; perhaps something is omitted after much. Warburton interprets it, "That his vices stand him in stead of virtues." And Heath thought the meaning was :-" This fellow hath a deal too much of that which alone can hold or judge that he has much in him;" i. e. folly and ignorance. But possibly we should read: "Which soils him much to have." In reply to the gentlemen's declaration that they are h servants, the Countess answers-no otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility. |