Which holds him much to have.

COUNT. You are welcome, gentlemen.

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.

2 GEN. 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.

[thou

Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
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
That drive thee from the sportive court, where
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-piecing air,b
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 it;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected. Better 't were
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd

With sharp constraint of hunger; better 't were
That all the miseries, which nature owes, [sillon,
Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rou-
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,
And angels offic'd 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.

The fellow has a deal of that, too much,
Which holds him much to have.]

Of this passage no one has yet succeeded in making sense. It is, we fear, irremediably corrupt.

b-More the still-piecing air,-] The old text has "still peering." Still-piecing, that is, ever closing, was proposed by Malone. Tyr

STEW. [Reads.]

I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone:

Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,

With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war, My dearest master, your dear son, may hie; Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far, His name with zealous fervour sanctify: His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dog the heels of worth: He is too good and fair for death and me; Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

COUNT. Ah, what sharp stings are in her
mildest words!-

Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,
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 but vain. COUNT.

What angel shall

Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife:
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Despatch the most convenient messenger:-
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love: which of them both
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
To make distinction:-Provide this messenger:-
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Without the Walls of Florence.

A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, MARIANA, and other Citizens.

WID. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight.

DIA. They say, the French count has done

most honourable service.

WID. It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets.

MAR. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. WID. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion.

:

MAR. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were

a Are not the things they go under:] "They are not the things for which their names would make them pass."-JOHNSON.

no further danger known, but the modesty which is so lost.

DIA. You shall not need to fear me.

WID. I hope so.- -Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another; I'll question her.—

Enter HELENA, in the dress of a Pilgrim.

God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?
HEL. To Saint Jaques le grand.
Where do the palmers(1) lodge, I do beseech you?
WID. At the Saint Francis here, beside the
port.

a Mere the truth;] Quite the truth. Honesty,-] That is, chastity.

e I write good creature;] So the first folio, but which the editor of the second, not perhaps understanding, altered to,— "I right, good creature." The phrase to write, in the sense of to proclaim, &c. was not at all uncommon formerly. It occurs, indeed, three or four times in Shakespeare: thus, in the present play, Act II. Sc. 3, Lafeu says,

"Sirrah, I write man," &c.

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow; I would, he lov'd his wife: if he were honester, He were much goodlier.-Is't not a handsome gentleman?

2 LORD. If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.

1 LORD. On my life, my lord, a bubble. BER. Do you think, I am so far deceived in him?

1 LORD. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promisebreaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment.

2 LORD. It were fit you knew him, lest reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger fail you.

BER. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

2 LORD. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

1 LORD. I, with a troop of Florentines, will

D

suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when we bring him to our own tents: be but your lordship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing.

success

2 LORD. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem for 't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his * in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of oret will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment,(2) your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.

1 LORD. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

Enter PAROLLES.

BER. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

2 LORD. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.

PAR. But a drum! Is't but a drum ? A drum so lost! There was an excellent command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

2 LORD. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.

BER. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success; some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.

PAR. It might have been recovered.
BER. It might, but it is not now.

PAR. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.

BER. Why, if you have a stomach to 't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit; if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak

BER. But you must not now slumber in it. PAR. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me.

BER. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it?

PAR. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.

BER. I know thou art valiant; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

PAR. I love not many words.

[Exit.

1 LORD. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done: damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do't.

2 LORD. You do not know him, my lord, as we do certain it is, that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after.

BER. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto?

1 LORD. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him; you shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect.

2 LORD. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night.

1 LORD. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.

BER. Your brother, he shall go along with me. 1 LORD. As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. [Exit. BER. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you the lass I spoke of.

2 LORD. But, you say, she's honest.
BER. That's all the fault: I spoke with her

but once,

And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind,

was said to be embossed, when, exhausted and outrun, he foamed and frothed at the mouth. The meaning is, we have hunted him almost to his fall.