Page 805 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

ACT II IT

Scene I IT

Enter the King with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war;
Bertram and Parolles; attendants. Flourish of cornets.

KING
Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles
Do not throw from you; and you, my lords, farewell.

Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as ’tis received,
And is enough for both.

FIRST LORD
’Tis our hope, sir, [5]
After well-entered soldiers, to return

And find your grace in health.

KING
No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confess he owes the malady
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords. [10]

Whether I live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy Frenchmen. Let higher Italy −
Those bated that inherit but the fall
Of the last monarchy − see that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it. When [15]

The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek,
That fame may cry you loud. I say farewell.

FIRST LORD
Health at your bidding serve your majesty!