Act III, Scene 2

Rousillon. The COUNT’s palace.

[Enter COUNTESS and Clown]

• Countess. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save
  that he comes not along with her.

• Clown. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very 1400
  melancholy man.

• Countess. By what observance, I pray you?

• Clown. Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the
  ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his
  teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of 1405
  melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song.

• Countess. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.

[Opening a letter]

• Clown. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our
  old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing 1410
  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.

• Countess. What have we here?

• Clown. E'en that you have there. 1415

[Exit]

• Countess. [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 1420
  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. 1425
  To fly the favours of so good a king;
  To pluck his indignation on thy head
  By the misprising of a maid too virtuous
  For the contempt of empire.

[Re-enter Clown]

• Clown. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two
  soldiers and my young lady!

• Countess. What is the matter?

• Clown. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some
  comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I 1435
  thought he would.

• Countess. Why should he be killed?

• Clown. 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 1440
  they come will tell you more: for my part, I only
  hear your son was run away.

[Exit]

[Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen]

• First Gentleman. Save you, good madam. 1445

• Helena. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.

• Second Gentleman. Do not say so.

• Countess. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen,
  I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
  That the first face of neither, on the start, 1450
  Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you?

• Second Gentleman. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence:
  We met him thitherward; for thence we came,
  And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
  Thither we bend again. 1455

• Helena. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport.
  [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 1460
  husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.'
  This is a dreadful sentence.

• Countess. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?

• First Gentleman. Ay, madam;
  And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain. 1465

• Countess. I prithee, 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? 1470

• Second Gentleman. Ay, madam.

• Countess. And to be a soldier?

• Second Gentleman. Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't,
  The duke will lay upon him all the honour
  That good convenience claims. 1475

• Countess. Return you thither?

• First Gentleman. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

• Helena. [Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.
  'Tis bitter.

• Countess. Find you that there? 1480

• Helena. Ay, madam.

• First Gentleman. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his
  heart was not consenting to.

• Countess. Nothing in France, until he have no wife!
  There's nothing here that is too good for him 1485
  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?

• First Gentleman. A servant only, and a gentleman
  Which I have sometime known. 1490

• Countess. Parolles, was it not?

• First Gentleman. Ay, my good lady, he.

• Countess. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
  My son corrupts a well-derived nature
  With his inducement. 1495

• First Gentleman. Indeed, good lady,
  The fellow has a deal of that too much,
  Which holds him much to have.

• Countess. You're welcome, gentlemen.
  I will entreat you, when you see my son, 1500
  To tell him that his sword can never win
  The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you
  Written to bear along.

• Second Gentleman. We serve you, madam,
  In that and all your worthiest affairs. 1505

• Countess. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
  Will you draw near!

[Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen]

• Helena. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
  Nothing in France, until he has no wife! 1510
  Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France;
  Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
  That chase thee from thy country and expose
  Those tender limbs of thine to the event
  Of the none-sparing war? and is it I 1515
  That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
  Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
  Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
  That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
  Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air, 1520
  That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
  Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
  Whoever charges on his forward breast,
  I am the caitiff that do hold him to't;
  And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 1525
  His death was so effected: better 'twere
  I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
  With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
  That all the miseries which nature owes
  Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, 1530
  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:
  Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
  The air of paradise did fan the house 1535
  And angels officed all: I will be gone,
  That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
  To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
  For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[Exit]