Clown.
Count.
It hath happen'd 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, pray you?
Clo.
Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing;
mend his ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing;
pick his teeth, and sing. I knew 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.
Exit Clown.
Countess reads a letter.
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,
To fly the favours of so good a king;
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
By the misprizing of a maid, too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.
Re-enter Clown.
Clo.
O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between
a gentleman and my young lady,
Count.
What is the matter?
-- 264 --
Clo.
Nay, there is some comfort in the news; some
comfort; your son will not be kill'd so soon as I
thought he would.
Count.
Why?
Clo.
Because he's run away; but they come will
tell you more.
[Exit Clown.
Enter Helena, and two Gentlemen.
1. Gent.
Save you, good madam.
Hel.
Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.—
Count.
Do not say so.
Think upon patience: 'pray you, gentlemen,
I've felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,
Can woman me unto't.
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 shew me a child of thine,
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 as 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.
Hel.
'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.
[Reading.
Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Thou shalt have none.
Poor lord! is't I
That chace thee from thy country, and expose thee
To the event of the none-sparing war?
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
-- 265 --
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that doth hold him to it;
And tho' I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected.
I will be gone:
My being here, it is, that holds thee hence.
Come, night; end day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.* note
[Exit.
Count.
Gone to serve the duke of Florence!
Who was with him?
1 Gent.
One Parolles.
Count.
A very tainted fellow.
My son corrupts a well inclining nature,
With his inducements.
1 Gent.
Indeed, good lady, report speaks
Strangely of him.
Count.
I will intreat you, when you see
My son, tell him, his sword can never
Win the honour that he loses. Let's in,
And comfort my despairing daughter;
Her sorrow is my own.
Both.
We attend you, lady.
[Exeunt.† note
End of the Second Act.
-- 266 --
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
