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FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam; And for the contents’ sake, are sorry for our pains.

COUNTESS. 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?

SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam.

COUNTESS. And to be a soldier?

SECOND GENTLEMAN. Such is his noble purpose, and, believe’t, 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.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. ’Tis bitter.

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! 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?

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