Clo. 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. means to come. Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he [Opening a letter. Clo. 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 love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. Count. What have we here? [Exit. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-inlaw: 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, This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To pluck his indignation on thy head, BERTRAM. mend the ruff,] The tops of the boots, in our author's time, turned down, and hung loosely over the leg. The folding is what the Clown means by the ruff. Ben Jonson calls it ruffle; and perhaps it should be so here. Re-enter Clown. Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter? Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. Count. Why should he be kill'd? Clo. 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 they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen. 1 Gen. Save you, good madam. Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gen. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gentle men,— I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, I pray 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: We met him thitherward; from thence we came, And, after some despatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. Can woman me-] i. e. affect me suddenly and deeply, as my sex are usually affected. [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, 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. 1 Gen. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Count. You are welcome, gentlemen, 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. Nothing in France, until he has no wife! Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France, Which holds him much to have.] That is, his vices stand him in stead. 6 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 I met the ravin lions when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rou sillon, 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: To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! 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. 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. |