| ACT III SCENE II | 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 | |
| | melancholy man. | 5 |
| 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 | |
| | melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. | 10 |
| 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 | |
| | like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: | |
| | the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to | 15 |
| | love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. | |
| COUNTESS | What have we here? | |
| Clown | E'en that you have there. | |
| | Exit | |
| COUNTESS | Reads | |
| | recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded | |
| | her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not' | 20 |
| | 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. | 25 |
| | 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 misprising of a maid too virtuous | |
| | For the contempt of empire. | 30 |
| | 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 | 35 |
| | 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 | 40 |
| | 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. | |
| HELENA | Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. | |
| Second Gentleman | Do not say so. | 45 |
| 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, | |
| | Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you? | |
| Second Gentleman | Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: | 50 |
| | We met him thitherward; for thence we came, | |
| | And, after some dispatch in hand at court, | |
| | Thither we bend again. | |
| HELENA | Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. | |
| | Reads | |
| | When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which | 55 |
| | 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. | |
| COUNTESS | Brought you this letter, gentlemen? | 60 |
| First Gentleman | Ay, madam; | |
| | And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain. | |
| 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; | 65 |
| | But I do wash his name out of my blood, | |
| | And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? | |
| Second Gentleman | Ay, madam. | |
| COUNTESS | And to be a soldier? | |
| Second Gentleman | Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't, | 70 |
| | The duke will lay upon him all the honour | |
| | That good convenience claims. | |
| COUNTESS | Return you thither? | |
| First Gentleman | Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. | |
| HELENA | Reads | |
| | 'Tis bitter. | 75 |
| COUNTESS | Find you that there? | |
| 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! | 80 |
| | 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? | |
| First Gentleman | A servant only, and a gentleman | 85 |
| | Which I have sometime known. | |
| 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 | 90 |
| | With his inducement. | |
| 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. | 95 |
| | I will entreat you, when you see my son, | |
| | 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, | 100 |
| | In that and all your worthiest affairs. | |
| 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! | 105 |
| | 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 | 110 |
| | 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, | 115 |
| | 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 | 120 |
| | 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, | 125 |
| | 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 | 130 |
| | 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 | |