COUNT.

Return you thither?

I GEN. Ay, madam, with the swifteft wing of speed. HEL. [Reads.] 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.

'Tis bitter.

Ay, madam.

I GEN. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply,

which

His heart was not confenting to.

COUNT. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! There's nothing here, that is too good for him, But only fhe; and the deferves a lord,

That twenty fuch rude boys might tend upon,
And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him?
I GEN. A fervant only, and a gentleman
Which I have fome time known.

COUNT.

Parolles, was't not?

I GEN. Ay, my good lady, he.

COUNT. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick

edness.

My fon corrupts a well-derived nature

With his inducement.

I GEN.

Indeed, good lady,

The fellow has a deal of that, too much,

Which holds him much to have.3

3

—a deal of that, too much,

Which holds him much to have.] That is, his vices stand him in ftead. Helen had before delivered this thought in all the beauty of expreffion :

I know him a notorious liar;

"Think him a great way fool, folely a coward;
"Yet these fix'd evils fit fo fit in him,

"That they take place, while virtue's steely bones

"Look bleak in the cold wind," WARBURTON.

COUNT. You are welcome, gentlemen,

I will entreat you, when you fee my fon,
To tell him, that his fword can never win

The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you
Written to bear along.

2 GEN.

We ferve you, madam, In that and all your worthieft affairs.

COUNT. Not fo, but as we change our courtefies.* 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,
Then haft 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-fparing war? and is it I

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 meffengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with falfe aim; move the still-piecing air,
That fings with piercing, do not touch my lord!

Mr. Heath thinks that the meaning is, this fellow hath a deal too much of that which alone can hold or judge that he has much in him; i. e. folly and ignorance. MALONE.

4 Not fo, &c.] The gentlemen declare that they are fervants to the Countefs; the replies,-No otherwife than as the returns the fame offices of civility. JOHNSON.

S -move the ftill-piecing air,

That fings with piercing,] The words are here oddly shuffled into nonfenfe. We fhould read:

pierce the ftill-moving air,

That fings with piercing,

i. e. pierce the air, which is in perpetual motion, and fuffets no injury by piercing. WARBURTON.

The old copy reads the ftill-peering air.

Perhaps we might better read:

the ftill-piecing air.

Whoever fhoots at him, I fet 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 fo effected: better 'twere,

6

I met the ravin lion when he roar'd

With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That all the miferies, which nature owes,

Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rousillon,

Whence honour but of danger wins a fcar,'
As oft it lofes 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 paradife did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,

i. e. the air that clofes immediately. This has been propofed already, but I forget by whom. STEEVENS.

Piece was formerly fpelt-peece: fo that there is but the change of one letter. See Twelfth Night, firft folio, p. 262:

"Now, good Cefario, but that peece of fong-." MALONE. I have no doubt that fill-piecing was Shakspeare's word. But the paffage is not yet quite found. We should read, I believe, rove the fill-piecing air.

i. e. fly at random through. The allufion is to shooting at rovers in archery, which was shooting without any particular aim.

TYRWHITT.

Mr. Tyrwhitt's reading deftroys the defigned antithefis between move and ftill; nor is he correct in his definition of roving, which is not fhooting without a particular aim, but at marks of uncertain lengths. DOUCE.

6 the ravin lion-] i. e. the ravenous or ravening lion. To ravin is to swallow voraciously. MALONE.

1 Whence honour but of danger, &c.] The fenfe is, from that abode, where all the advantages that honour ufually reaps from the danger it rushes upon, is only a fcar in teftimony of its bravery, as on the other hand, it often is the cause of lofing all, even life itfelf. HEATH.

To confolate thine ear.

Come, night; end, day!

For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[Exit.

Florence. Before the Duke's Palace.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, BERTRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and Others.

DUKE. The general of our horfe thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence, Upon thy promising fortune.

BER.

Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
We'll ftrive to bear it for your worthy fake,
To the extreme edge of hazard."

DUKE.

And fortune play upon thy
As thy aufpicious mistress!

Then go thou forth; profperous helm,

This very day,

BER.
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file:
Make me but like my thoughts; and I fhall
A lover of thy drum, hater of love.

"We'll ftrive to bear it for your worthy fake,

8

prove

[Exeunt.

To the extreme edge of hazard.] So, in our author's 116th Sonnet:

"But bears it out even to the edge of doom." MALONE. Milton has borrowed this expreffion; Par. Reg. B. I:

"You fee our danger on the utmost edge

"Of hazard." STEEVENS.

And fortune play upon thy profperous helm,] So, in King Richard III:

"Fortune and victory fit on thy helm !”

Again, in King John:

"And victory with little lofs doth play

Upon the dancing banners of the French." STEEVENS.

SCENE

IV.

Roufillon. A Room in the Countefs's Palace.

Enter Countefs and Steward.

COUNT. Alas! and would you take the letter of her?

Might you not know, fhe would do as fhe has done, By fending me a letter? Read it again.

STEW. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath fo in me offended,

That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With fainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody courfe of war,
My dearest mafter, your dear fon may bie;
Blefs him at home in peace, whilst I from far,
His name with zealous fervour fanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, bis defpiteful Juno, fent 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 fet him free.

9

Saint Jaques' pilgrim,] I do not remember any place famous for pilgrimages confecrated in Italy to St. James, but it is common to vifit St. James of Compoftella, in Spain. Another faint might eafily have been found, Florence being somewhat out of the road from Roufillon to Compoftella. JOHNSON.

From Dr. Heylin's France painted to the Life, 8vo. 1656, p. 270, 276, we learn that at Orleans was a church dedicated to St. Jacques, to which Pilgrims formerly used to refort, to adore a part of the crofs pretended to be found there. REED.

2-Juno,] Alluding to the ftory of Hercules. JOHNSON. VOL. VI.

U