[Reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, 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 Gen. 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 thine,* 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 Gen. Ay, madam. Count. And to be a soldier? 2 Gen. 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 Gen. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. 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! 3 When thou canst get the ring upon my finger,] i. e. When thou canst get the ring, which is on my finger, into thy possession. If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, &c.] This sentiment is elliptically expressed, If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself, i. e. "all the griefs that are thine," &c. There's nothing here, that is too good for him, 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 wicked. ness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. Indeed, good lady, 1 Gen. Count. You are welcome, gentlemen, Written to bear along. 2 Gen. you 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, a deal of that, too much, Which holds him much to have.] That is, his vices stand him in stead. Not so, &c.] The gentlemen declare that they are servants to the Countess; she replies,-No otherwise than as she returns the same offices of civility. JOHNSON. Those tender limbs of thine to the event That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rousíllon, 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: 7 move the still-piecing air, [Exit. That sings with piercing,] Warburton says the words are here oddly shuffled into nonsense; but the commentators have not succeeded in making sense of them. 8 the ravin lion] i. e. the ravenous or ravening lion. To ravin is to swallow voraciously. 9 Whence honour but of danger, &c.] The sense is, from that abode, where all the advantages that honour usually reaps from the danger it rushes upon, is only a scar in testimony of its bravery, as, on the other hand, it often is the cause of losing all, even life itself. HEATH. 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 credence, Upon thy promising fortune. Ber. Duke. Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! Ber. 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. SCENE IV. [Exeunt. Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess and Steward. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know, she would do as she has done, Stew. I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, hie; Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war, I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice' so much, Which thus she hath prevented. Stew. 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 in vain. Count. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief, 9 1 Juno,] Alluding to the story of Hercules. lack advice - Advice is discretion or thought. 2 That he does weigh too light:] To weigh here means to value or esteem. |